Page 64 of Lady for a Season
“Radcliffe,” drawled the man. He took her fan from her hand and inspected it, raising one languorous eyebrow. “Frampton? Surely not. Man’s a bore. You’d do much better with me. Don’t you think, Frampton?”
Maggie followed his eyeline and saw that Robert Sinclair, the Earl of Frampton, had joined them in time to hear Lord Radcliffe both insult him and try to steal his dance partner.
“I am afraid my fan says otherwise, Lord Radcliffe,” she said sharply. “I have already given my word to Lord Frampton, and I do like to keep my word.” She turned away from him and gave her best curtsey to the Earl. “Lord Frampton. I believe you were about to escort me to the dance floor?”
The Earl offered her his arm and she took it readily, moving
away from Lord Radcliffe.
“I am sorry Lord Radcliffe was so rude,” she said gently, aware
of the tightness in the Earl’s body.
The Earl softened as they turned to face one another, and the dance began.
“He is not… as gentlemanly as he should be,” he managed, no doubt skimming over a variety of words he might have liked to use but considered inappropriate in front of a woman.
“He is not,” agreed Maggie with a smile. “We shall try to forget about him.”
The Earl smiled back and nodded, and when the dance was finished, he kissed her hand. “I hope to see more of you now that you are returned to London,” he said.
Maggie smiled, but had no chance to leave the floor, immediately being claimed by her next partner.
The girl with whom Edward was dancing was a slip of a thing, he could barely feel her, but he could hardly breathe, as though there was a great weight pressing against him. All around the edge of the ballroom were not just glittering jewels but the glittering eyes of theton, the young women watching his every move, their experienced mamas calculating the odds of ensnaring him, their fathers mulling over his worth, so that the whole of the ballroom was like a net closing in on him, forcing him into something which felt wrong, though everyone around him insisted it was right and even he himself could not put his finger on what was wrong. Whatwaswrong with choosing an amiable, suitable bride and growing to love her? Whatwaswrong with following what everyone else had done for generations? It had worked well enough for everyone to continue along this path and yet there was a growing unease in him that had nothing to do with the clothing or the dance steps or the manners, all of which he was now accustomed to and even Maggie was managing well enough…
Maggie. He saw her dancing with Lord Frampton, a bright smile on her face which enhanced his feeling of unease, rather than calming him as the sight of her usually did.
The music ended and he barely managed a short bow to his partner before leaving her.
Air.
He needed air, he could not breathe, each breath in was astruggle, he… usually he would have wanted Maggie but now, he did not want to see her, only wanted to get out of this accursed place and find somewhere to be alone, regardless that his name was down for the next four dances and that he would be leaving his partners stranded. The music began again and now it seemed as though it were being played out of tune, the door to the street below seemed very far away…
Maggie scanned the room. Where was Edward?
“May I be so bold as to claim a second dance this evening?” began Lord Frampton, bowing low before her.
“No!” said Maggie too quickly. Edward. She must find Edward.
Lord Frampton looked startled.
“I mean – I do beg your pardon,” Maggie said, her voice cracking. “I am not quite feeling myself. The heat… I beg you will excuse me.”
“Allow me to accompany you to a quieter part of the room,” said Lord Frampton at once, holding out his arm.
She could not refuse, so she followed unwillingly, still craning her head, searching for Edward.
He led her to a quieter part of the room, where Miss Belmont and Lady Honora were standing.
“Ah, Lady Honora,” he said with relief. “May I leave Miss Seton with you for a few moments while I fetch her something to drink and an ice? The room is very warm.”
“Thank you,” managed Maggie, taking the seat he had indicated for her, still looking about her for a glimpse of Edward.
“You’re doing well,” said Lady Honora, watching him depart. “Known him since he was a baby. Make a decent husband, Frampton. Good heart.”
“I need to go outside,” gasped Maggie, struggling to her feet. She felt dizzy.
“You can’t go out there without a chaperone,” said Lady Honora. “That’s where the men are smoking.”
