Caroline was also peering at the dancers, specifically Elliot. Her sister-in-law’s regard volleyed to Nina and a worried expression settled on Caroline’s face.
Even Caroline, sweet Caroline, who thought the best of nearly everyone, worried Elliot would break Nina’s heart.
His Grace’s regard shifted back to her. “May I call on you tomorrow, Lady Nina, at three o’clock?”
Her mouth went dry. Did he intend to ask for her hand? She searched her mind for some excuse. Finding none plausible enough, she said, “Of course, Your Grace.”
“Will you be home as well, Huntington?” Fernbridge asked James.
There would be only one reason he would wish to speak to both her and James. The sudden queasiness in her stomach edged up her throat.
“We will see you then.” James appeared beyond pleased. Of course. This was the type of man he wanted her to marry.
The duke nodded and walked away.
Nina felt like burying her face in her hands.
The visible pleasure on her brother’s face dissolved when he glanced at her. “Nina? I thought this was what you wanted.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Caroline touched her arm. “James, will you excuse us? I wish Nina to accompany me to the retiring room.”
Her brother opened his mouth as if he wished to say something, but then closed it and nodded.
Caroline looped her arm through Nina’s, and they made their way through the crush as the strains to the waltz ended. Nina heard a laugh and glanced sideways to see Lady Montgomery and Elliot making their way through the crowd as well.
Nina’s gaze met his.
For several long seconds, it appeared neither could look away from the other.
He inclined his head slightly, then returned his attention to Lady Montgomery.
I don’t care. Really, I don’t. Yet, a place near her heart ached.
As they walked into the retiring room, Nina overheard two women talking. Lady Amelia Hampton’s and her cousin Priscilla Grisham’s voices were unmistakable.
“Lady Nina had barely set foot in the ballroom when the Duke of Fernbridge darted over to her. Do you think he wishes her to be his duchess?” Priscilla asked.
“Pish, don’t be stupid! Why would he want to marry her? Even Lord Ralston, after having spent time with her at Lord and Lady Hathaway’s, has decided to give her the cut.”
Nina’s hand clenched. The spiteful shrew was just jealous that Elliot was smart enough not to spare her a glance.
Nina and Caroline stepped fully into the room. The gas lights illuminated both Amelia and Priscilla, along with a seamstress who sat on the floor repairing a torn piece of lace on Amelia’s hem.
Priscilla’s gaze shifted to the doorway. Her face turned an unflattering shade of chalky white.
“Lord Ralston was probably looking for an easy diversion. Avalon said he could have bedded Nina if he wished. She was more than willing,” Amelia said.
Nina felt all the blood drain from her face. Had Avalon said such a thing, or was Amelia spreading more lies? She strode toward them, trying to control the rage shifting through her, almost causing her to see a red haze.
Priscilla gave a small shake of her head and tilted her head toward Nina, trying to warn her cousin they were not alone.
“What is wrong with you, Pris? You look like you’ve just swallowed curdled milk and are about to cast up your accounts.” Amelia shook her head as if she had little tolerance for her cousin.
“She is trying to inform you I have entered the room.” Nina set her hands on her hips, fearing if she didn’t keep them there, she might place them on Amelia’s shoulders and shake her until the other woman’s teeth rattled in her head.
Amelia spun around. Her face flamed red.
“I’m not sure why you persist in gossiping about me, but I do not appreciate it.” Nina couldn’t help the way her voice shifted an octave higher.
“I believe I know why,” Caroline said. “Lady Hampton is clearly jealous.”
The red on Amelia’s face deepened.
“Is that it, Amelia? Are you jealous of the attention Lord Ralston has shown me?”
“Why would I be jealous of that? Lord Ralston has no interest in marriage. If he is giving you any attention, it is because he wants an affair. Nothing more.” Amelia glanced down at the seamstress. “Hurry up with my hem, you cow.”
The young woman nodded. “Nearly done, miss.”
“Are you such a horrid person you are incapable of treating others with respect?” Nina frowned.
“Pish, I’m the girl’s better. Why should I?”
“If you require an explanation, I pity you,” Nina replied.
Caroline stepped forward. “Don’t you understand words can have lasting consequences? It’s not kind to belittle another, and it surely isn’t kind to gossip, especially when untrue. Case in point, one of my reporters told me about a noblewoman who was caught stealing a scarf at Harrods. I’ve not repeated this to anyone except Nina because I didn’t want to embarrass the woman, even though she could use a good set-down. However, I’m reconsidering. Perhaps I should start a gossip column in my publications. The first story will be about that sticky-fingered lady. Though I might not publish such a tidbit if the woman retracts her claws and stops gossiping.”
“You wouldn’t publish such a thing,” Amelia said.
Caroline’s lips formed a sly smile. “Don’t test me. If I hear you are disparaging anyone with your vicious tongue, I will.”
“Aren’t you done yet?” Amelia snapped at the seamstress.
“You should thank the seamstress,” Nina said.
Amelia’s lips formed a thin stubborn line. “Very well.” She looked at the girl. “Thank you.” Then she walked to the door and out of the room.
Her cousin followed, a slight smile on her lips as if she had thoroughly enjoyed watching Amelia put in her place.
“I fear she is not very content in her marriage,” Caroline said.
“I realize that.”
Caroline squeezed her hand. “Don’t marry the Duke of Fernbridge.”
“What?”
“You obviously love another. Does he return your affection?”
A sheen of tears blurred Nina’s vision. She blinked them away. “He says he does. But I’d hate to disappoint James. Did you see the pleasure on James’s face when His Grace asked if he could call tomorrow?”
“Nina. Goodness, James wants you to be happy.”
“Yes, but we both know he doesn’t care for Lord Ralston.”
“It doesn’t matter if he cares for him. It matters if you do. James will not be the one sharing the man’s life, nor his bed. You will. Do not marry a man you do not care for. Please, Nina.”
* * *
Elliot watched Nina and her sister-in-law as they moved through the crowd. Even in this crush, he had sensed the warmth of her body when only a few feet had separated them. He’d noticed Fernbridge talking with her and her brother. The bastard had cast him a self-satisfied grin as he’d walked away from them. Most likely over the next month the banns would be read and a grand spectacle of a wedding would follow.
Standing next to him, Talbot cleared his throat. “Elliot you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
He glanced at his friend. “I’m sorry. What?”
Talbot made an exasperated noise, then whispered, “I said, I cannot wait until we purchase Langford Teas, and my father finds out we are his competition. The man might piss himself.” Talbot rubbed his hands together and grinned.
Though for different reasons, Talbot wanted this venture to succeed as desperately as Elliot.
Talbot clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not going well with Lady Nina, is it? What happened at the Hathaways’ house party?”
“She got what she wanted all along. Fernbridge intends to ask for her hand.”
“Buck up, old boy. There are lots of attractive and wealthy chits here. I still say, I do
n’t understand why you don’t just set your sights on Penny Granger. Her family is near the top of the Upper Ten Thousand. Like all the ostentatious nouveau riche from across the pond, she’ll not only repair your properties but guild them with gold.”
He didn’t want Penny Granger, and he certainly didn’t want his properties gilded with gold. Marrying anyone besides Nina held no appeal. Perhaps he could hold off. Wait and see if he could increase the profit margins for the tea company at a faster rate.
“Bloody hell,” Talbot grumbled. “Lady Clifton and her daughter Georgiana are staring at me. I’m going to head to the card room. Are you coming along?”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Elliot replied.
“Don’t stand out here torturing yourself.”
Torturing himself? Was that what he was doing? Perhaps. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Talbot strode away.
Elliot watched as Lord Walden approached Nina. She nodded at the young buck, and he escorted her to the dance floor. Talbot was right. The card room would distract him. He pivoted and bumped into a woman dressed in a frothy cream concoction of silk and tulle, as she walked by.
He set a hand on her arm to steady her.
The woman glanced up.
Good God, Lady Sara. The chit possessed a propensity for laughing whenever she got within two feet of a man. And they were practically touching. Elliot glanced at his hand. They were touching. He lowered his arm.
Before he could utter an apology, she blushed profusely and started to giggle. Yet, even though she laughed, there was a look of absolute horror in her eyes. He didn’t believe the fear stemmed from him, but from her inability to stop herself from uncontrollable guffaws.
“Lady Sara.” He bowed. “Forgive me.”
The pitch of her giggling increased. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Several people turned and stared. The color on her cheeks darkened.
“How are you?” he asked.
She lowered her hand. “I am”—she swallowed as if trying to control her urge to begin laughing again—“fine.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
She appeared to stop breathing for a minute, then sucked in several deep breaths. “How are you, Lord Ralston?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
She let out a loud giggle, then pinched her lips so tightly together they lost their color.
Several men in the room, who’d obviously engaged the woman in conversation and knew her propensity for giggling, gave Elliot a sympathetic look.
She was holding her dance card and he could see it was blank.
Damnation. He shouldn’t care. He should just walk away. He thought of Meg. How his sister had said she would feel out of place at a ball. Lady Sara felt the same way. “Would you care to waltz?”
He thought she’d break out in hysterical laughter. Instead, her eyes turned glassy and she nodded. “I would like that very much.”
Elliot offered his arm, hoping, for her sake, the laughter would not start up again.
She gave a small giggle but otherwise remained composed.
As they took the first turn, he realized she danced well.
“You are an accomplished dancer.”
A brief smile flicked across her face before she tensed as if trying to control her emotions. “I’ve had lessons.”
“It shows. With a dance master?”
“I had a male instructor, but he quit because of my, um, problem.”
“What problem?”
This time she did laugh. Not a long, drawn-out affair, but a short sweet, girlish laugh. “You are too kind, sir.”
As they took the turn, he heard a giggle start to bubble up the woman’s throat. A panicked expression took over her face.
Damnation. She was about to start laughing again, and the fear of it happening was evident on her face.
“Lady Sara, close your eyes.”
Her gaze narrowed on him. She looked too terrified to laugh. “What?”
“You know the steps well enough. Close your eyes.”
“I don’t think I can. What if I fall?”
“I won’t let you.”
She gulped at the air but did as he said.
Leading Sara in the steps, Elliot glided her across the floor. If she tripped, he’d feel terrible, but having her start laughing again hysterically wouldn’t be any better. No man attending tonight would ever ask her to dance.
The music came to a halt, and Sara opened her eyes. “I didn’t fall.”
Elliot released the breath he’d been holding. “No, you danced wonderfully.”
A pretty smile lit up her face.
Once off the dance floor, he bowed. “Thank you, Lady Sara, for the waltz.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
* * *
As Lord Walden escorted Nina off the dance floor, she watched Elliot do the same with Lady Sara. Him dancing with Sara was one of the nicest things she’d ever seen anyone do. Most men stayed away from her friend as if she were infected with the plague. If they only got to know her, they would see what a wonderful person she was, minus her nervous laugh.
Nina walked over to her friend and clasped her hands.
“I danced with Lord Ralston.” Sara giggled, then quickly evened out her expression.
“I saw.”
“He bumped into me. I think he noticed my dance card was empty and took pity on me.”
Nina watched Elliot’s back and broad shoulders as he moved through the crowd toward the card room. There was so much more to Lord Elliot Ralston then anyone realized, but she comprehended it.
It was about time she admitted to herself that she loved him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The following day, Nina twisted her hands together as the butler entered the drawing room at her family’s Park Lane residence.
Menders inclined his head. “Lady Nina, the Duke of Fernbridge wishes to know if you are in.”
With a concerned expression on her face, Caroline glanced up from where she sat on the sofa, reading a children’s book to her son, Michael.
Grandmother grinned and leaned forward in her chair. “Did he inform you he intended to call today?”
“Yes.” The unsettling sensation that had plagued Nina’s stomach throughout the morning and afternoon inched up her throat.
“Do you think he is here to ask for your hand?” Grandmother’s pale gray eyes gleamed with pleasure.
Finding her throat had gone dry at the thought, Nina nodded and tugged her lower lip between her teeth.
“Nina, if you gnaw any harder on your lip, you will draw blood,” Caroline said. “Do you wish Menders to tell him you are out?”
Grandmother pounded her cane on the floor. The sound echoed in the room. “Of course, she doesn’t wish to send him away. She’s brought the man up to snuff. Every chit from here to Scotland will envy her.”
Caroline drew in an audible breath. “Grandmother, one does not choose a husband because they wish to be envied. Love must play a role.”
“Pish.” Grandmother accentuated her disgust with another thump of her cane.
On the sofa, little Michael eyed his great-grandmother, then wrapped his tiny arms around Caroline’s neck as if the old woman were a witch from a Brothers Grimm fairy tale.
“It’s all right, darling.” Caroline gave Grandmother a scornful look and rubbed her son’s back. “Nina, what do you wish to do?”
Nina took a deep breath, attempting to calm the quick patter of her heart. “Menders, please show him into the drawing room. Caroline and Grandmother, will you give us a moment alone?”
“Are you sure?” Caroline asked.
“Of course, she is.” Grandmother stood.
Nina nodded at her sister-in-law and rubbed her clammy palms on the skirt of her blue dress.
Hesitantly, Caroline stood and exited the room with her son.
At the doorway, Grandmother turned around. “You might never come to love him, but you
will have his ear and that is important,” she said and left the room.
Wringing her hands together, Nina paced.
What seemed like an eternity later, but was most likely no more than a minute, the duke entered the drawing room and smiled.
Nina felt nothing when she saw him. Not true—she experienced a great deal of apprehension.
“Lady Nina, how are you today?” the duke asked.
She’d been better. “Well, Your Grace, and you?”
“I am anxious to return to my country residence, which I’m sure you understand, having seen its splendor.”
Nina forced a smile. The home had contained a multitude of costly items from the furnishings to the paintings, but it had felt cold. Impersonal. Like the duke himself.
“I wish to ask you something.” He motioned to the blue damask sofa. “Sit.” He said it like she was one of his hounds.
Please don’t. The forced smile on her face made her tight jaw send a shooting pain up the side of her face and into her temple.
Fernbridge sat next to her and took her hand in his. His palm was dry as if he didn’t fear the answer to his question would be anything besides a resounding yes—that any woman would be beyond lucky to become his duchess. She didn’t feel lucky. She felt nauseous.
He gave her knuckles a perfunctory kiss.
She felt nothing. No longing. No burst of excitement as his dry lips touched her bare skin.
“As you are most likely aware, I came to Town to find my duchess.” He paused as if emphasizing the profoundness of his statement.
She needed to stop him. She abruptly rose. “Your Grace, what do you think of a woman who wishes to work?”
“Work?” As if the question baffled him, he stood and blinked.
“Yes, when a woman takes on an occupation.” The question shouldn’t have needed an explanation.
His gray eyes widened, and he suddenly looked as if someone had squirted sour lemon into his mouth. He drew in a slow breath as if he realized he should take care with his words, since Nina’s sister-in-law was not only a journalist but the owner of the London Reformer.
Never Conspire with a Sinful Baron Page 18
