“Has my cousin, Captain Bellingham, been enlisted as your guard for protection throughout the Season?”
Sophie placed her empty cup on the tray of a passing footman and searched her brain for a reply to the man’s rude question.
Lady Howick smoothly interjected. “Since I am limited in my capacity to accompany Miss Brancelli to all the Season’s entertainments, Mrs. Bellingham and her son have graciously consented to assist us.”
As if suddenly realizing his social blunder, Bellingham said in a low voice, “I so beg your pardon, Miss Brancelli. I apologize if my question upset you in any way. If you can forgive me, would you do me the honor of granting me the next dance?”
“With pleasure,” she answered with a broad smile, and allowed herself to be swept up into the next set.
While they moved up the line of dancers, Sophie had a chance to study Arnaud’s cousin without being obvious. He had a ready smile for each of his consecutive partners and seemed comfortable in the glittering world of theton.
Sophie envied his ease in threading his way among the crowd of dancers. She kept thinking through the figures of the dance and hoping she would not make a mistake. She’d practiced relentlessly with Lydia and her dance master for the last several weeks, pulling Dr. MacCloud and Arnaud into duty as partners whenever they came by to check on them. But this was different. Everyone was watching, and also judging, she feared.
Madame Bonheur’s ball gown creation was a vision in white. Gossamer light rose silk medallions danced along the bottom half of the skirt. Lady Howick had given her the simple pearls at her throat just before the guests had arrived. However, her ornamental feather headdress was another story. The longer the evening wore on, the heavier the elaborate decoration became until now her head pounded as if demon elves pummeled her with tiny hammers.
She’d lost track of the music and found herself at the top of the set again facing Mr. Bellingham. When she turned to head back to Lady Howick’s side, he touched her on the shoulder. When she whirled back to face him, he had a sheepish look on his face.
“Please stay with me for just one more set?”
She couldn’t remember how many dances they’d shared and hesitated for a moment when Lydia joined them and apologized to Sophie’s partner. “I’m so sorry, but I must have Miss Brancelli’s assistance,” and she pointed to the train on her blue silk dress.
She was holding it at an odd angle, Sophie thought, but excused herself to Mr. Bellingham. “I am so sorry about the misunderstanding. I seem to have forgotten the order of dances promised on my card.”
Once they’d entered the retiring room, Lydia launched into a tirade. “La, but I never should have left your side. That Captain Neville can be such a trial, asking so many questions about all the doors and where they lead. I saved you just in time. Dancing more than two dances with one gentleman is just not done. Everyone would have had you paired off with Captain Bellingham’s boring cousin.” She paused a few seconds for a breath before continuing. “More to the point. What washethinking? Maybe he wants to get his hands on your inheritance more than he lets on.” Lydia placed her finger against her lips. “Hmm. Maybe that side of the family is not as well off as they would like everyone to believe. But then again, he’s just the third son.”
When Lydia stopped talking long enough for another breath, Sophie entered the breach by placing her hand over Lydia’s. “It’s my fault. This headdress has my head pounding and I lost count of the dances. With all the candlelight reflected off the crystal chandeliers, I feel like I’m in a trance.”
“I know just the thing.” Lydia took a pitcher of cold water from a stand behind a screen and poured a bit onto a soft cloth. She wrung out the excess liquid onto a folded bit of flannel. “Here. Lie down on the sofa for a moment. I’ll put this on your forehead. A woman has to hang onto her wits at a ball like this. We’re like soldiers on a battlefield. One false move and…” She made a motion like pulling a knife across her throat.
Sophie frowned at Lydia’s exaggeration and then giggled. “You’re right. There’s nothing more at stake here than the rest of our lives.”
A few minutes later they moved cautiously out of the retiring room before returning to the ballroom. Lord Howick gave them a questioning look while Lydia pulled Sophie toward where Arnaud stood guard duty near the ballroom entrance.
“Sophie has a spare dance before the last dance before supper,” Lydia said. “And it looks like you are the one listed on the dance card.”
“Lydia…” Sophie said, her tone sharp. “I never…”
“Yes, that’s what it says right here.” She flashed the card in front of both of their faces without pausing for the tiny hand-lettered list to register.
After a brief frown, Arnaud took Sophie’s hand and bowed low. “My pleasure.” And he led her out onto the floor.
Arnaud had spent many an hour, at his mother’s behest, with a dance tutor before he went to sea. Tonight, he was grateful for what he’d hated as a boy. The few times he and Cullen had been ordered to fill in as partners for Lydia and Sophie had been a much-needed refresher. The times he’d been called on to dance during his naval career he probably could count on the fingers of one hand.
The form of the current dance he shared with Sophie had her whirling in his arms several times as they worked their way up the line, exchanging partners occasionally with the other couples. Once or twice he swung close enough for a whiff of the lavender and lemon in her dark hair piled high with a few tendrils escaping to tease down her neck. He could tell the elaborate feathered headdress she wore was a trial. Once, when he caught her frowning, he gave her a slow wink and a smile. The next time she turned to face him and come across to touch through their gloved hands, she grinned at his clumsy attempt to make her feel better.
When the dance was over, he walked her back to Lady Howick. His heart lifted a bit at the flush and look of pleasure on Sophie’s face when he left her to return to his guard post. Captain Neville waited at the entrance where he’d come to fill in while Arnaud shared the dance with Sophie. The accusing stare from his marine captain reflected what Arnaud already feared his face betrayed. He’d begun to care deeply for his charge.
Lydia stared after Arnaud’s retreating back before turning to Sophie, her eyes wide. “Well? How was your turn on the floor with Captain Bellingham?”
“Honestly,” Sophie fired back. “I’ve danced with a veritable battalion of gentlemen tonight. And you haven’t asked me what I thought of any of my other partners.”
“She’s right, Lydia. Your question is impertinent.” Lady Howick took a delicate sip of lemonade and shook her head.
“But I want to know. I’m sure they each care about the other, but they’re both too stubborn to admit their affections.” Lydia fixed her lips into a pout.
“Sometimes,” Lydia’s grandmother began. “Sometimes we have to let nature take its course.”
“Indeed,” Sophie added. “He’s made his intentions clear. There is no room for an impoverished orphan in his grand plans for his naval career. He cares not at all for me.”
