Page 39 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
Scudamore nodded. “I do. Have you seen the way Morsley looks at her? Like he wants to eat her. I’ve got to get in there before he does.”
The throng before them shifted, and they made their way through the ballroom doors. Gladstone and Scudamore drifted away, unaware they’d been overheard.
God. He’d told himself he was being absurd, worrying someone would propose to Anne in the next hour, but here was confirmation that not one but two men were planning on doing precisely that!
He felt his throat constrict. He’d lost her once to Wynters. If he lost her again…
Darkness rose up and threatened to consume him. Suddenly his heart was racing, and the back of his neck felt sticky with sweat. He couldn’t lose her again. He just… couldn’t.
He gazed across the room and was annoyed to see Alexander Fitzroy kissing her hand as they took up places near the top of the set.
His jaw clenched. He was going to have to watch Anne like a hawk.
He needed to formulate a plan. That, and find some way to pass the next hour without losing his bloody mind.
Chapter 14
Stalking across the ballroom, Michael spied an old friend. Cecilia Chenoweth was the daughter of the local rector back in Gloucestershire, and he had known her his whole life. She was of an age with Caro, and the two of them had always been thick as thieves. Michael and Ceci were both only children and had always joked that they were honorary Astley siblings, so much did they run with the Astley brood growing up.
Now there was someone with whom he would genuinely like to dance.
He crossed the room and bowed over her hand. “Miss Chenoweth, how wonderful to see you.”
Ceci smiled. “Lord Morsley, it has been far too long.”
“Indeed. Might you be free for the first—”
He was cut off by the sound of a woman clearing her throat. He turned and saw a dark-haired girl eyeing him up and down. She looked vaguely familiar, but Michael couldn’t place her. “Miss Chenoweth,” the girl said, her eyes fixed on Michael, “perhaps you might be so good as to introduce me to your friend.”
“I believe you are already acquainted,” Ceci said. “Lord Morsley, do you recall Miss Araminta Grenwood? She’s attended a number of Lady Cheltenham’s house parties over the years. Miss Grenwood, this is Lord Morsley.”
Araminta Grenwood. Michael hadn’t thought of her in years, but he remembered her well enough. He’d once asked her to dance at one of Lady Cheltenham’s gatherings, trying to be courteous to a young girl who knew few people in the room. He’d been about ten inches shorter at the time, and that was the year his face had tended toward spots. Although Miss Grenwood had danced with him, she had made it abundantly clear that she would prefer he not ask her again. She wanted to keep her dance card open so that the handsome Viscount Fauconbridge, whom the girls were already starting to call “Prince Charming,” could ask her instead.
“Lord Morsley, I cannot believe I have forgotten,” Miss Grenwood purred. “Were you planning on dancing this evening, my lord?”
Not with you. “I was just asking Miss Chenoweth if she would grant me the pleasure of a dance.”
“Of course I would,” Ceci replied.
“I would wager Miss Chenoweth has a number of dances free,” Miss Grenwood said. “I, on the other hand, am available for only the supper dance and the Sir Roger de Coverley.”
He turned to Ceci, ignoring Miss Grenwood’s rather pointed invitation. “Are you available for the first dance?”
“I am,” Ceci replied.
Michael extended his arm. “Excellent.”
Ceci’s grin was a bit wicked. “They’re still tuning up. There’s no need for us to depart quite so hastily.”
Michael cast her a glare. “Yes, but I find that I am parched. Perhaps you would be so good, Miss Chenoweth, as to accompany me to the refreshment table.” He grabbed Ceci’s hand, placed it on his arm, nodded to Miss Grenwood, and beat a hasty retreat.
He could hear Ceci chuckling beside him as they crossed the room.
“I suppose you think that was funny,” he said.
“Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” Ceci replied. “Well, perhaps a bit—I couldn’t resist teasing you. But mostly I’m laughing at Miss Grenwood.”
“Why is that?” He collected two cups of lemonade and handed one to Ceci.
