Being keen to set eyes on Lady Bracknell was a wish he’d never thought to entertain.
He was fending off the advances of a pair of determined matrons with daughters in tow—luckily, they appeared to be competitors, which allowed him to maintain the upper hand—when a stunning figure in a pale-turquoise gown walked into the room and effortlessly captured his attention.
She captured his awareness and every one of his senses.
With real effort, he forced his gaze back to the besieging matrons and smiled his most charming smile, causing the one who was speaking to break off and regard him hopefully. He seized the moment. “Ladies, thank you for making a newcomer to your lovely town so welcome. However, I’ve just seen someone to whom I must pay my respects. Please excuse me.” Giving them no chance to protest, he half bowed, stepped around them, and made for the gathering of hostesses just inside the door.
He was loitering with intent when Lady Bracknell, with Julia and Sophy trailing behind, parted from the last of the hostesses. He stepped into her ladyship’s path and bowed. “Lady Bracknell, I’m delighted to see you. It’s been far too long since we met.”
Her ladyship leveled a disbelieving look on him. “Martin Cynster, please don’t think I’m anything but immune to such flummery. I understand you’ve already found your way to Portobello Street.”
“I have, indeed, and Mrs. Canterbury and your granddaughter have been nothing but kind.”
“I daresay. So”—her ladyship’s gimlet gaze locked on his face—“how are your parents?”
Martin readily surrendered to the inquisition he’d known would come. In between her inevitable questions about his siblings and their families and his own recent doings, her ladyship appropriated his arm and commanded him to steer her to a sofa by the wall. Julia and Sophy followed, Julia looking anxious while Sophy appeared amused.
After seating her ladyship on one corner of the sofa and assisting Julia to the spot alongside, Martin stood patiently before her ladyship and consented to be interrogated as to why he was there.
His candid admission that he’d come to Sheffield with a view to acquiring Carmichael Steelworks had her ladyship’s gaze sharpening and swinging to Sophy, who had halted beside him.
“And what reply did you give to Martin’s offer, my dear?” Lady Bracknell inquired.
Sophy smiled sweetly. “Exactly what you would expect, Grandmama. I told him I wasn’t interested in selling.”
“I see.” Lady Bracknell regarded her granddaughter for a long moment.
As far as Martin could tell, the prolonged and intense scrutiny had no effect whatsoever on Sophy.
Eventually, her ladyship looked back at Martin. “And yet, here you are.”
Sophy quickly explained, “Mr. Cynster—Martin—has been helping me resolve some issues at the steelworks. There’ve been a spate of accidents, and we’re attempting to get to the bottom of them.”
Her ladyship’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”
Before she could demand further enlightenment, the musicians, stationed in a gallery above the main floor, set bow to string, and the strains of a waltz wafted over the heads of the now-considerable crowd.
Martin turned to Sophy and half bowed. “Miss Carmichael, will you grant me the honor of this dance?”
Sophy smiled, partly, he felt sure, in relief. “Thank you, sir. I would be delighted.” When he extended his hand, she clutched it and smiled at her grandmother and aunt. “If you’ll excuse us?”
Lady Bracknell looked to be fighting a grin. Lips prim, she waved dismissively. “By all means. Go, go!”
With a brief bow to the older ladies, Martin turned and, much relieved himself, led Sophy into the crowd.
“Phew!” She met his eyes. “That was considerably more detailed than her usual inquisitions.”
He shrugged. “She knows my family root and branch. I assumed she would want to know everything I could tell her so came suitably prepared.”
“Just as well.” Sophy had been quietly fascinated by all he’d let fall; his revelations had painted an intriguing picture of his plainly extensive family and their current exploits. Her own family was limited, and that Martin knew so much of not just his siblings’ but also his cousins’ lives proved that he was in contact with many of them, that they were all close in a family way, and she’d found that alluring. While growing up, she’d often fantasized about being a part of a large, affectionate, and supportive family.
The sensation of his hand wrapped around her fingers slowly permeated her brain and refocused her thoughts. They were about to dance. She was about to step into his arms for the first time since landing in them within the first hour of meeting him. The realization had her girding her senses, steeling them against the inevitable jolt.
They reached the area being cleared for the dancers.
In truth, she didn’t enjoy dancing and had no fond memories of any waltz; her previous experiences had left her bored and strangely dissatisfied, feeling as if she’d missed out on something that her conscious mind couldn’t define. However, consenting to waltz with Martin had been the fastest way to escape her grandmother, and after her earlier experience of being in his arms, some wanton part of her wanted to discover whether waltzing with him would be different.
Whether the activity would satisfy that part of her that waltzing with others had left unfulfilled.
