“Where are you, Henry?” she whispered, just as she heard the orchestra fading out their instruments to signal the end of the current set.
Searching the hallways one more time, willing Henry to appear, she could not see him anywhere. So, turning reluctantly, she headed toward the ballroom, praying that Henry would stay away until the set was over, for nothing would dampen the thrill of her confession like a grave misunderstanding.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nerves jangled within Henry’s chest as the carriage made its way up the drive he cherished so much. The subtle scent of the hedges, cooled by the night, filtered through the mahogany and velvet of the carriage interior, calming him somewhat.
“I blame you for this,” he grumbled, looking at Seth who sat opposite.
“Me? I can hardly be held responsible for a carriage wheel coming loose, Haskett.”
Henry adjusted his cravat and ran a hand through his hair, hoping the oil he had used would keep the most wayward strands from sticking upright. “If you had not persuaded me to delay a visit with your sister, I would be here already. And do not entice me to mention your trove of unopened letters again.”
“I really am sorry, Haskett.” Seth smiled, looking a touch sheepish. “I promise, once we are inside, I will get on my knees and plead with my sister to forgive you. That, Iwilltake the blame for.”
The carriage trundled and bounced across the gravel, coming to a standstill beside the porticoed porch. There were no other carriages waiting to dispense their passengers, increasing Henry’s nerves. He had not thought to bring his pocket watch, so had no notion of just how late they were.
Not wasting another moment, he swung the door open and leaped out, hurtling up the steps and barreling through the main entrance without so much as a, “How do you do?” to the startled footmen. Fortunately, he was known to them, or he might have found himself removed from the property.
A few guests tried to snatch his attention with words of welcome and inane questions about his family, but he fielded with them a repetition of, “I will find you later. First, I must see to my betrothed and apologize for my belated arrival.” The words drew some fond smiles and amused chuckles, but the addition of stifled whispers and furtive looks, hidden behind fans and palms, brought a jarring worry to his mind.
Something is amiss…
Indeed, as he looked ahead and raced down the main hallway, out of the way of servants carrying trays of champagne and oblivious guests, he saw an unusual sight. Aside from the stray clusters who remained in the hall, it seemed every other guest in attendance was crowded around the imposing double doors of the ballroom. Many young gentlemen were even shoving young ladies out of the way to get a better look at what was happening within.
Henry swallowed thickly as he forced his way through. “If you would be so kind, I must get by.”
At first, the guests he passed cast him sour glances, but the moment they realized who he was, they hurriedly stepped aside to make way. As Henry reached the end of the cleared path to the ballroom, he froze.
No, no, this cannot be happening. If she has chosen this… I will never forgive Seth for his carelessness.
In the center of the ballroom, a lone pair were dancing a waltz—not the Viennese, but one would not have known that from the way Lord Powell was holding Arabella. Other dancers had paused, becoming spectators to the magical scene.
“My goodness…” Henry breathed, for Arabella looked like an angel who had come down to the mortal realm for just this night. Or an ancient goddess, seeking the worship of a bygone era. Aphrodite incarnate.
Her gown shimmered like liquid as she whirled around the parquet floor, shifting from pink to gold to silver and back again. In her hair, fashioned like royalty, she appeared to be wearing live butterflies in her elaborate locks. At least, that was the impression given by the adornments, for the wings moved with the sway and swirl of her body.
“Mercy!” Seth appeared at Henry’s side. “That cannot be my sister, can it?”
Henry nodded slowly. “She is… astonishing.”
Her cheeks were flushed with the exertion of the dance, her eyes shining brightly, her pearly teeth flashing in radiant smile after radiant smile. Even from where he stood, Henry thought he could hear the soft rush of her laughter, spiking at the jealousy in his chest.
“This is your fault,” Henry muttered, casting a bitter look at his friend.
Seth furrowed his brow, visibly confused. “How so? It is not my fault you decided to postpone your engagement to the summer’s end. As such, she is notexactlyprohibited from dancing with others. Need I remind you thatyoudanced with—”
“No, you do not need to remind me,” Henry interrupted, somewhat chastened. “You are right. There is no fault here but my own. I apologize, Milford.”
He did not like to argue with his friend, and as Seth did not know about the scheme for Arabella to find a different husband, it did not seem fair to judge him harshly.
Seth gave him a nudge. “You ought to cut in and cause a stir.”
“Do you think?” The very idea made Henry sick with anxiety, considering the number of guests who would be watching.
Seth nodded. “Steal your bride back, Haskett. I dare you.”
“Yes… I rather think I should,” Henry replied, bolstered by his friend’s encouragement. Usually, such a thing spelled disaster, but the greater disaster would be losing Arabella to this ingrate, Lord Powell.
