“Mercy,” Juliet said as her latest dance partner returned her to Thomas’ side in lieu of the baroness, who had gone off toward the refreshment table, “you’ve not danced at all this evening. Are you quite well?”
“I am, thank you.” Happily, no one had asked. No one but Thomas, who had scrawled his name upon the dance card that dangled from a ribbon on her wrist, for a waltz that had yet to come up. Those gentlemen who had seen fit to call upon her only when they had learned of her dowry had, it seemed, at last received the message that their suits, such as they were, would not be entertained. “But you’ve danced a great deal, I see.”
“Oh, yes.” Juliet smiled. “It’s been just lovely.”
“You’ll have callers aplenty tomorrow, no doubt,” Mercy said. “I counted at least three I would not hesitate to describe asutterly smitten.” One gentleman in particular had all but stumbled over his own feet in order to reach her side for the dance he had claimed. But then, Juliet was a lovely girl, bright and bubbly and with an effortless manner of making a body feel comfortable.
“Oh,” Juliet said, with a tiny frown. “I hope not.”
Beside Mercy, Thomas shifted. “You hopenot?”
Juliet let loose a light, trilling laugh. “Thomas,” she said. “It’s my first Season. Besides, I have no particular plans to marry until I am twenty at the very earliest.”
Mercy choked on a laugh at the brief consternation that flickered across Thomas’ face. “Youareaware that the purpose of the Season is to find a husband,” he said.
“And I will,” Juliet said lightly. “When I count myself ready for one. But I shouldn’t like to break any hearts in the meantime, you understand.” She smoothed at her skirts and glanced down at the card upon her wrist to see with whom she was next to dance. “I’ve had quite a pleasant Season thus far. I shouldn’t like to muddle it all up with an engagement.” With a flutter of her fingers, she was gone again, on the arm of her next dance partner.
“Hell,” Thomas muttered beneath his breath. “Just how many suitors do you expect I shall have to refuse on her behalf?”
“Truly? None,” Mercy said. “Unless they are particularly persistent. Juliet will let them down gently herself.” With such grace and tact that she suspected there would be few, if any, hurt feelings or pride to be salvaged. “She’s quite diplomatic, you know, when she wishes to be. Confident enough to state her wishes plainly, but charming enough to make even a refusal not quite so painful as it might otherwise be.”
“Do you know,” Thomas said reflectively, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “I think that must be your influence upon her.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Because she doesn’t wish to marry her first Season out? No,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t care if she’s out five Seasons—ten, even. I don’t care if she chooses to never marry. The choice of a spouse is the most important decision a person can make. It should not be undertaken lightly, without due consideration.”
By the grace of God alone, Mercy managed not to flinch at the words. Instead she let her eyes drift across the ballroom, where they landed upon Marina there at the refreshment table beside the baroness. She, too, had danced little this evening, but Mercy expected that was because the one gentleman with whom she would most have liked to dance would not be found within the ballroom. Nor would he be likely to receive an invitation to any of the other society events at which Marina would be present.
Mercy swallowed a sigh with the last of her champagne.Oh, Marina,she thought.We shall both be heartbroken this Season, you and I.
∞∞∞
At last, the waltz. Thomas had selected this one specifically for where it had appeared in the schedule of dances. Roughly halfway through the evening, when the vast majority of the invited guests—even those known to be habitually late—would have already arrived, while still far too early for much of anyone to have decided that they had had done with the evening’s entertainment.
A perfect opportunity, he thought, to slip away once the dance had concluded.
Soon enough there would be no need to slip away, to exercise any subterfuge such as this. They would be married, and no one ever batted an eye at a married couple strolling off in one another’s company.
Probably, he thought, they’d still slip away anyway. For the very thrill of it, the excitement of the clandestine. And with a houseful of his relations, there was bound to be a certain rarity in true privacy which they would enjoy.
He pulled Mercy through a turn and bent to her ear. “I’m sure you’ve been warned,” he said, “of the dangers of going wandering during an event such as this one.”
Her slender fingers clutched his a little tighter. “Of course,” she said, blinking those dark eyes up at him in all innocence through the fan of silky black lashes.
“You’re meant to stay within the company of your chaperone,” he said. “And to avoid deserted corridors, any private areas of the residence, gardens—”
“Terraces as well,” she suggested mildly. “And, in general, to eschew the company of known rakes and gentlemen of impure intentions.”
“Just so,” he said. “They’re firm rules, set in stone. Sacrosanct, as it were.” And then, on the next turn: “I thought perhaps you might be interested in breaking a few of them.”
She laughed, full-throated and melodious, attracting a few curious glances from other dancers. With some effort, she managed to restrain her amusement until the interest she had inadvertently drawn had waned once again. “Which?” she inquired, a smile still caught in that merry dimple etched into one cheek.
“Lady’s choice,” he said, pitching his voice low. “But I would be remiss if I did not point out to you that the door to the garden is just past the refreshment table, and this particular residence features a rather large hedge maze.” Or so he had heard.
“I’m sure it would be, in daylight,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “How are we to see it in the darkness?”
“Counterpoint,” he said. “How is anyone to see us?”
