“He ought to be on his way,” Phoebe rasped in reply. “He had to wait for his mother and Caro.”
Albion nodded. “HowisCaro? Has she yet debuted?”
“Not yet.” Phoebe gulped another mouthful of punch.
“I look forward to seeing her,” Albion said. “She used to ride on my shoulders when she was little. I imagine she’s too big now. Anyway, the music will be ending soon—join me in the next set, Lady Matilda.” It was not a request any longer.
Matilda had to wonder if, perhaps,hewas the one worried about being embarrassed in front of so many people. From all the insufferable whispering she had been overhearing, no one seemed to know him. They all spoke of a wonderful brother but not him.
“Refer to me properly, and I will consider it,” she replied.
He put on a cold smile. “Iamreferring to you properly.”
“Very well. Refer to me as I prefer, and I will consider it.”
“Miss Elkins,” he stretched out his hand, “will you dance the next set with me?”
She had not expected him to oblige her, and to refuse now would make her seem petulant. Furious with his cleverness, she took that outstretched hand and said, “Just one set. I will not be dancing two. I never dance two. Indeed, I never dance one, so consider yourself a rarity.”
“Who don’t you dance if you say youcandance?” he asked, leading her away from the safety of her friends.
“I find it very dull and artificial,” she explained. “In addition, as it is intended as a means for ladies and gentlemen to become acquainted and, eventually, to court and marry, I have never needed to indulge. But you saw fit to jump past the usual procedures and practices, so here we are.”
Albion cast her a sideways glance. “Are the Duchess of Lisbret and Bergfield like you and the Countess of Westyork?”
“We are all alike, aside from Anna. She is a hopeless romantic,” Matilda replied, confused by the question.
Albion returned his attention to the dance floor. “Then, it’s a wonder to me that any of you are married. I must speak with the Dukes and ask how on earth it happened. Or were they ‘trapped’ as you claim to be?”
“You are rude.”
“Then you should content yourself that we have one less difference between us.”
Matilda sniffed. “I hear you intend to let me live my life as I please. I was glad to hear it though I do not appreciate being told how I may live my life. After we are married, I shall never be told what to do again. This is the first, last, and only time, and you know why I am not insisting upon a severance. My father’s home is worth just a tiny bit more than my pride, but do not mistake that my agreement had anything to do with our meeting in the gardens.”
She took a breath, relieved that she had managed to unburden herself of that, so there would be no confusion on their wedding day.
“Within reason,” he said curtly.
She frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”
“You can live your life as you please within reason,” he answered. “But our lives will not be separate if that is your misinterpretation. After our wedding, you will reside at Whitecliff Manor where I hope you will be a diversion for my mother. If not, I at least hope you will be able to divertyourselfthere, for I will be very busy.”
So…notfree to live my life as I see fit.The disappointment was a vast boulder, crushing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Is it far?” she asked, her nerves fraying.
“At least half a day’s ride from Westyork. A few hours more from this fair house,” he replied.
Matilda almost ran, there and then. It was already a juggling act, trying to get her friends in the same room together, but if she was the farthest from them, it would be near impossible. She would be isolated. She would be in a foreign place, far from the only home she had ever known, and she could not bear it, not even the prospect of it.
But the music for the next set began before she could flee, and his strong hand tugged her into place, setting her in position among the line of slyly glancing women while he joined the line of gentlemen opposite. He stood out like a sore thumb. It was not just his attire but his height, his roughness, his short hair, his brutish demeanor, his otherworldly eyes, his permanent frown—as if he did not belong with these people at all.
Looking at the women who flanked her, she wondered if she was the same: out of place.
As the leading couple called for a country dance, memory overtook Matilda’s brain, guiding her movements with ease. She skipped toward her partner, and as he raised his hand, she pressed her palm to his, turning in a jaunty circle.
“Your dress isn’t drab,” Albion said, leaning in closer than was appropriate.
