Page 13 of An Offer for a Spinster
“May I remind you that I live in your parents’ house at the good-will of my sister and her husband? Not everybody longs for freedom as you do, Timothy.”
“Did,” he corrected. “I have my freedom, now.”
Amelia said nothing. “Well, you’ve successfully avoided my question. Why are you not dancing?”
“I don’t feel much like it.”
“No? I had it on good authority that you were going to ask Lady Katherine to dance.”
Timothy flushed, biting his lip. He should have known better than to try and keep a secret from his aunt. She was famous for knowing everything that went on in Society, and had a knack for excising and keeping secrets.
“I was,” he said, as neutrally as he could, “but her dance card was all but full already.”
“Hm. Which was it, then? Full, or all but full? There is a difference, you know.”
“There were spaces,” he clarified, “but she’ll be exhausted if she dances every dance. I would be unkind to insist. It’s not as if a lady can refuse to dance with a gentleman.”
Amelia gave a snort. That, at least, was true. For a lady to refuse to dance with a gentleman was quite a shocking event. It generally happened a few times every Season, with some over-confident debutante or desperate young woman finding herself in an unbearable situation. A lady refusing an offer to dance would find herself obliged to refrain from dancing for the rest of the night, regardless of how full her dance card might be. It was a tremendous humiliation for everybody involved.
“You are too kind, Timothy. Do you think Lord Barwood over there refrained from asking her to dance to save her feet getting too sore? No, I think not.”
Timothy pursed his lips. “I’m sure I’m more thoughtful than Lord Barwood. How do you know him?”
“Oh, the whole town is talking of him. He’s recently returned from the Americas. He’s tremendously wealthy, naturally, and excessively charming and handsome into the bargain. Half a dozen mammas at least have their sights set on him for theirgirls. It seems to me, though, that he has his mind set on his own prize.”
She nodded towards the dance floor, where Lord Barwood and Lady Katherine were promenading together. As Timothy watched, Lord Barwood said something to make his partner laugh.
Something tightened in Timothy’s chest, something sharp and a little painful.
“I’m glad she’s having a good time,” he said firmly. “I imagine there hasn’t been much to make her laugh since they lost the Duke.”
“Hm, if you say so. I don’t believe he was a remarkably good father. But let’s not speak ill of the dead. Do you know, the Willoughby boys have all danced every dance tonight? That’s unusual. I know for a fact that Henry hates dancing, and William avoids it when he can.”
Timothy bit his lower lip until he tasted copper. He knew, of course, why the boys were all dancing. They needed to find marriage mates within the next year or go through life penniless.
“I daresay they want to make a good impression,” he said lightly, careful not to look at his aunt. “It is their first ball for a while, after all.”
The music ended with a flourish, and the dancers stopped, laughing and clapping. Couples bowed and curtsied to each other, all smiles, subtly mopping sweat from brows and necks.
No new song began, as there would be a break now for supper. The dancing would resume afterward, when everybody’s supper had settled a little.
Timothy spotted William taking his leave of his partner, a pink-faced debutante whose mother was already coming to claim her back. He made a beeline straight for Timothy and Amelia.
“Hello, you two,” he said, out of breath and smiling faintly. Not a real smile, Timothy noticed. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Timothy, you’re sitting next to Katherine at supper. I hope you don’t mind, we just wanted friends around us. Miss Spencer, you’re beside him. Would you mind escorting Katherine in to dinner, Timothy?”
That tight feeling returned to Timothy’s chest. Would she be disappointed? Was she hoping that the handsome and charming Lord Barwood, who was dripping in confidence and never at a loss for something to say, was the one who’d escort her in?
It didn’t matter. His friend was asking him.
“Of course,” Timothy responded. “I’ll find her at once.”
The guests formed into pairs and loose trios, snaking lazily through the emptying ballroom towards the dining room.
For his part, Timothy had been here many times. The long, imposing, highly polished dinner table was an acquisition of the late Duke’s. Often, instead of clustering his family around one end as a normal family would do, he insisted on everybody spreading out. The Duchess would sit at one end, he at the other, the four children spread halfway down each side. It successfully killed all but the most vital conversation and left each person feeling alone and entirely cut off.
That, of course, was likely the intention.
Glancing down at the woman on his arm, Timothy wondered whether Lady Katherine remembered these meals. He had no doubt that she did.
