Page 69 of An Earl Like You
Or are too kind to say otherwise, she thought, but did not say. Even so, his words brought a warm glow to her skin unrelated to the exertion of dancing. “But you didn’t know me then,” she pointed out. “You still asked me to dance, not once but twice.”
“And that won your heart?” He asked it almost warily.
“Well.” Eliza averted her eyes, knowing her face was red. “You also kissed me...”
Hugh said nothing. When she finally glanced up, wondering if she’d said something wrong, he was watching her with shadowed, almost brooding eyes. “I did kiss you. That was the moment I knew I would marry you.”
Her lips parted in astonished delight.
His expression eased. A sensual smile curved his lips. “Subject to your agreement, of course. I was inexpressibly relieved when you said yes.”
As if she would have said no. As if a girl like her might have turned down an earl like him, even if she hadn’t been madly in love and scandalously attracted to him. “Did you ever doubt I would accept?”
His smile faded. “I don’t want to take you for granted.”
Her throat felt tight. She had always been the quiet girl at the side of the room, the one who giggled from nerves and never said anything witty. No other man had ever complimented her beauty or her charm, or even suggested she had any. But Hugh—oh, Hugh had caught her by surprise, taking the time to really look at her and see her heart, flattening her defenses before she had time to raise them. She could not have dreamed of a more perfect husband.
The waltz ended. Hugh’s hands lingered on her. “Who else have you promised a dance to?” he murmured.
“Oh—Mr. Jennings, and Lord Edward Rivers, and... someone else,” she said, flustered. “Why?”
“I feel very jealous tonight.” He winked and finally released her, retaining her hand to walk from the floor with her by his side. “Would you like some champagne?” He led her to a quieter spot at the back of the room.
She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Do you know, I think I shall visit the ladies’ retiring room first.”
He grinned. “Of course. I’ll fetch the champagne and find you when you return.”
Chapter 26
Eliza made her way through the crowded assembly rooms in search of the retiring room. She meant to apply a cool cloth to her forehead and let her rioting emotions calm down. If she had been raised as a lady of theton, surely she would be able to feel this much and not let it make her knees weak and her heart race. Plain, shy Eliza Cross wanted to have a cup of tea in some quiet corner and marvel at what her life had become, but the Countess of Hastings needed to compose herself and glide back into the ballroom, ready for her husband’s hot, passionate glances and still able to dance and converse with aplomb.
But the retiring room was as crowded as the ballroom. One young lady had torn her gown, and was sobbing in dismay as two maids fussed over it. In the back of the room, three matrons sat together chatting comfortably; one of them had her foot elevated on a hassock. Several other ladies were occupied with maids fixing their hair and blotting their brows, and there was almost as much noise as in the ballroom. Eliza got her own cool cloth and dabbed at her face. Her eyes were bright and her color was high, and her lips were set in a permanent happy curve. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like what she was: a woman in love.
When she went back into the ballroom, it was even more crowded. Jostled from the left by a group of dandies, squeezing past a clutch of giggling young girls in white, she tried to find Hugh. There were so many tall, dark-haired men in black jackets and breeches, it was not easy to spot him. But there he was, all the way across the room, on the other side of the dancers. He was talking to a beaming Henrietta and a handsome young man who held her hand on his arm. The dowager countess stood beside her daughter, smiling graciously. It looked for all the world as though the young man was asking Hugh’s permission to call on Henrietta. Eliza almost gasped aloud in delight at the thought.
She was halfway to his side when someone said her name. She turned to see a man she did not know, bowing low.
“I hope you’ll grant me pardon for introducing myself, Lady Hastings,” he said. “Sir Richard Nesbit, at your service. I wanted to offer my congratulations.”
Eliza felt very self-conscious. “For what, sir?”
“On your marriage. I knew your husband’s late father very well, and I’ve watched Hastings grow from a small boy.” He winked at her, with a roguish smile.
“Oh.” Eliza relaxed and even smiled back at him. An old friend of the family. “How kind of you, Sir Richard. Thank you.”
“Old Hastings—your father-in-law, as would have been—was a great man, a capital fellow. He’d be pleased as anything to see his son married so advantageously.”
Eliza hesitated, suddenly uneasy. No one would have called her a splendid catch; she was not eligible or beautiful or any of the things that made girls advantageous matches... except for one thing... Remembering Georgiana’s advice, she straightened her spine and replied formally, “I’m sure I don’t understand, sir.”
He laughed. “You do, you do. Your father was set upon it, wasn’t he? He must be pleased to see his plans come to such fruition.”
The smile was completely gone from her lips. Eliza stared at him, stony-faced, and said nothing.
Sir Richard was not deterred. He leaned closer. “You understand now—yes, you do! He made a great match for you, and I can’t say I blame him. Hastings would have been the catch of the Season, if he hadn’t been drowning in debt—almost one foot in the Fleet. I’ll grant Edward Cross this—he never misses an opportunity. An old title, a decent young man, and all for a mere six percent premium.” He shook his head, still grinning broadly.
“What do you mean?” Eliza heard her own voice, and it sounded alien and loud. “What are you accusing my father of?”
“Accusing!” Sir Richard snorted. “He did it! I know, I sold him an old debt myself. Never thought I’d see a farthing of it, after young Hastings told me he hadn’t a feather to fly with and wouldn’t pay any but the most pressing of his father’s notes. Well, of course I sold it to Cross! Everyone did. He bought up every promissory note and debt of honor Hastings owed. What other choice did the boy have then, but to wed the man’s only daughter?” He chuckled again. “Cross bought him for you, and a fine bargain he made, eh? A countess!”
