Page 52 of Lady for a Season
“Lady Honora?” Maggie thought back to the Duchess’ list and wondered if this was the woman she had mentioned. What was it she had said about her?
“Lady Honora Fortescue, daughter of Lord and Lady Halesworth, heiress to the Fortescue Hall and estate,” said the woman. “If you want the whole of it. Lady Honora will do.”
“Are you – are you looking forward to the dancing?” stumbled Maggie, appalled to discover that she was speaking with the host’s daughter and mindful of all the lessons in polite conversation she had received. This one was not going quite as she had expected.
“Oh, don’t feel the need to prattle to me,” said Lady Honora, examining her fan. “There’s no need. Tiring enough being on the marriage mart and making small talk with the men without having to try and be polite to other ladies as well. Who’s on yours?
“My?”
“Fan.”
Maggie mutely held it out.
“Ah, Bambers for the first, is it? He’s all right. Bit of a dripbut means well. Once helped me climb through a window when my Pa was coming and wouldn’t have been best pleased to see me standing around outside with the menfolk when I was supposed to be dancing inside. Lord Seymour, he’s a bore. Earl of Radcliffe, make sure he keeps his hands to himself, he’s a rake and doesn’t care who knows it. Mowbray – he’s going to be a count one day, not a bad sort, might be worth a try I suppose. Pembroke’s a bit of a dish, afraid you don’t stand a chance, he’ll get to choose the pick of the bunch this year. Lymington. Decent. Montgomery.” She shrugged. “Passable. Only a second son, no title, but they’ve got pots of money, so you’d hardly go short. Mowatt. One to keep an eye on, he’s due to inherit a pretty big pile and become a viscount as soon as his uncle Lord Barrington dies, which can’t be long now. He’s an invalid, always at the seaside in Margate with Mowatt dancing attendance on him.” She sighed and handed back the fan. “First half are the usual crew. How’s His Grace, is he a good one or shouldn’t I bother? His brother wasn’t worth the trouble, even if he was going to be a duke. Bit of a bore and crass with it. Sorry for your loss, by the way,” she added as an afterthought. “My condolences and all that sort of thing.”
Maggie found herself liking the woman, even though she was not at all what she had been expecting. “His Grace is a good man,” she said, unsure of what else to say about Edward.
“Looks a bit more refined than his father and brother. Not your hunting fishing shooting type?”
“He rides,” said Maggie tentatively. “But he prefers books, and he is looking forward to attending the theatre.”
“Oh, that sort,” said the girl. “Not my type, but no harm done. I should think Buckingham will have his choice this season, even Pembroke won’t be able to outdo him. He’s only a viscount, though he is rich as Croesus. But girls love a duke, don’t they? Fall over themselves for the chance of being a Duchess andoutranking everyone for the rest of their lives. Scarcity value, I expect. As for the mamas, they’ll be chasing him down like hounds to a fox. Hope he’s got a strong constitution; he’s going to need it. Anyway, we’d better get started. The first dance is coming up and Bambers is looking about for you, poor chap. You’d better go and rescue him. I’m with Mowatt. I’ll check on how that uncle of his is doing.”
And she was gone, striding rather than gliding across the floor, tapping sharply with her fan on the arm of a young man with brown hair, who turned and bowed to her, then led her to the dance floor, where couples were forming up into a set.
Another man was making his way towards Maggie when she heard a welcome voice.
“I think I should add my name to your dance card, Cousin Margaret. I cannot forsake you all evening, it seems neglectful on my part, even if you do seem busy.”
Maggie’s shoulders dropped with relief at the sight of Edward, who gave her a small bow, his body turned to edge the other man away.
“Oh, yes, of course, the…” Maggie glanced down at her fan “…the waltz is free, Cousin Edward.”
“Then I will claim it,” he said, taking her fan and adding the name Buckingham to it.
The man behind him managed to rally.
“I hope you have a dance left for me, Miss Seton?”
“I do,” said Maggie politely. Edward turned away from her as the man added his name. She had a sudden desire to catch Edward’s arm and ask him to take him with her, but of course he was headed towards his first dance partner, Miss Elizabeth Belmont, the tiny mouse of a girl who was firmly stuck to a wall and seemed unwilling to dance at all, her cheeks blushing scarlet at his approach.
Maggie endured the first four dances, stepping neatly throughher paces while counting in her head or making repetitive small talk with her partners, who were attentive enough. By the sixth dance she was beginning to wish she could stop all this nonsense and rest somewhere quietly, perhaps with Edward, where they could laugh at all this formality and not feel constantly watched. The level of scrutiny she was under was nothing compared to how the room watched Edward’s every move, the mamas edging forward their daughters to try and get into his eyeline, the young women simpering and flirting with him if they got the chance. But at last it was the turn of the waltz and she saw more than one woman’s face turn disappointed when Edward headed towards her for this more intimate dance.
“At last, someone with whom I am not obliged to make small talk,” he said.
“Shall we dance in silence?”
His smile grew broader. “We can try. We will look most odd compared to all the other couples, I’m sure. People will think you are offended with me in some way.”
“We can try to look taciturn with one another, then they will be unsure who is displeased with whom.”
He chuckled. “Very well. No smiling. You have my word.”
The music began and they lifted their arms, creating once again the circle through which they would gaze at one another, and took their first steps.
Gazing without smiling or speaking at Edward was a strange experience. At first, Maggie found it uncomfortable, knowing that they were being observed by all, but as the music lent her grace, she forgot about the onlookers all around them. Because she could see only Edward, as though they were alone, she could lose the tightness she had felt all evening, instead relaxing, as their arms changed position into the more intimate hold, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist. For a shocking moment she imagined his hands on her bare skin, only a fewlayers of fabric away. Her cheeks grew warm, but the music kept her movements fluid, allowing him to guide her about the room. Her face stayed solemn, not because of their teasing agreement to seem taciturn, but because of the intensity of feeling that was building in her, the music and the sway of the dance. Edward’s eyes.
Edward gazed down at Maggie. He had thought to claim the waltz only to rescue Maggie from the tedious looking man bowing over her hand, but he knew that was not true, she had danced with plenty of tedious looking men all evening and he had not claimed her for himself. Only when he had glanced at his partner’s fan and seen the waltz coming up soon, had he made his way to Maggie. He remembered how it had felt to dance the waltz together, none of the boring steps and turns, the exchange of partners required in other dances, this dance had felt different to him and it felt different again now. Her body soft under his hands, her warm brown eyes steady on his, her hands on his shoulders. He felt, suddenly, manly, in a way he had never felt before, having been told year after year that he was not as much of a man as his father, his brother. But there was something so feminine and graceful about Maggie, so trusting in how she let herself be guided about the dance floor, that he felt himself grow in confidence, in the pleasure of holding her, being responsible for her movements, for steering her smoothly past other couples without even looking at them, maintaining the gaze between them. Their silence, which he would have found awkward with another woman, he found strangely intimate, as though the two of them were entirely alone together and comfortable in one another’s presence, no false chatter or artificial attempts at flirtation, only a true connection, a sincere union.
