Page 40 of Her Wicked Marquess

“I expect we’ll see who’s the next to fall soon enoug

h.” Edmund taunted, but Drake didn’t deign to answer that.

He sighted Hester chatting animatedly with the other ladies, glad that she didn’t become isolated. Their friends deserved the highest regards for being there.

The women saw him coming and opened the circle. With mischief in his eyes, he bowed deeply to Lady Millicent. “My lady, how fortuitous to see you here.”

“My lord,” she replied with a brief smile, her voice soft and cultured. “I’m enjoying myself in the company of these progressive ladies.” Needless to mention that the tableau was being closely watched by the surrounding guests, a fact none of the ladies or him cared to acknowledge.

He nodded at her approval. “I wonder if I might steal you, Miss Green, for a dance,” he asked, eyes on his woman.

Despite the magnificent dress and the emeralds on her, nothing would ever compare to the brilliance of her eyes. And when those irises clasped on him, the world faded away. Her gloved hand rested on his sleeve with poise before he guided her into the dance.

He hadn't even asked her if she could dance the waltz. But as they stood in front of each other, her perfect posture showed she did. Not a strange thing, as actors learned several skills to compose their characters. And she proved to be an elegant dancer while they swirled around the floor. The couples who also danced gave them a wide berth, but neither he nor his woman gave any indication that they noticed, so immersed in their world they were.

"Well, here's something I hadn't imagined I'd do in my life," she said in a light tone. "Dance the waltz in a duke's ballroom."

“How are you finding it so far?” His head bent down to read her gaze.

But she made it a point to take countless heartbeats to answer. “Unique.” She breathed at last, raising her head to him.

“Yes, unique,” he repeated, but his focus directed at her lips.

When she realised it, she blushed, and they fell silent, just revelling in this moment. They whirled at the sound of the music, under the glittering chandeliers, in a precious moment in which their worlds interconnected, and they were here together. The pride that welled in him for her poise and resilience defied description. Gratefulness for her having accepted to accompany him nearly made him forget himself and kiss her senseless. The woman had the penchant to extort the most extraordinary reactions from him. At this instant, he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to commit this dance to memory so he would bring it up to savour it until the day he died.

Too soon it ended, and he followed her to her group of friends.

Drake insisted on dancing all the waltzes with her and she didn't seem to mind it. The feat went against every etiquette for the ballroom. More than one with the same partner listed as impolite, more than two was positively scandalous. And he revelled in what must appear as a shocking behaviour to everyone here.

After the second waltz, Hester said she needed the privy, and he went in search of something to drink.

At a corner, his dear mother sat talking with the Marchioness of Mandeville, grandmother to Edwina and Philippa. Catching sight of him, she excused herself and marched to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed irritably.

Drake had known she was at the ball, but they hadn’t happened on each other yet. “Right now, I’m looking for something to drink.” He explained, understanding very well his parent referred to the person he’d brought with him.

“You scandalised the entire London with your recklessness.” Those eyes he’d inherited flamed with aggravation.

“I do think Miss Green has enlightened you as to what our town comprises.” Much bigger and much more complex than Honora’s narrow concept of it belonging to the aristocracy.

“You have shamed me beyond repair!” She said hotly.

If her animated talk with the Marchioness of Mandeville was anything to go by, this was a blatant exaggeration. “You’ll survive.” He dismissed.

That caused her to vent fire through her nostrils. “I’ll cut ties with you. I don’t want my peers to associate me with the scum you parade so inappropriately.”

Her snobbery took him out of his light mood. “Hester isn’t scum.” His voice hardened. “And if she is, we all are, because we’re humans. And equals.” Evidently, the English deeply despised these revolutionary ideas from the continent. They even went to war with Napoleon in defence of their mediaeval notions of royalty, nobility, and peasantry. Not that he was disloyal to king and country, but some things needed scaling down.

“This woman’s nefarious influence is turning you into a vulgar pamphleteer.” She jabbed.

Drake inhaled deeply to store patience in him. “Mother, it’s been a while now that we don’t agree about a few matters.” His tone aired with evenness. “I don’t begrudge you your traditional views, but times are changing, and I prefer to change with them.”

“And you probably don’t care I’ll be the social casualty in this.” She rebutted.

“You won’t be. You’re too prestigious for that.” She remained in the ball despite his and Hester’s presence, and in good company on top of it.

She eyed him from the top of her haughty nose. “Still, you tempt fate.” And turned her back to him to resume her conversation with the Marchioness of Mandeville.

---