by Ella Quinn
“But not untrue ones, you hope.” Dursley scowled into his glass. “It’s a damn shame the whole world can’t be told what that cur Lytton did.”
How the devil had Dursley come to that conclusion? Alex gave himself a shake. One step at a time. “I agree, but then a lady’s reputation would be involved, and no gentleman would take that risk.” Alex took a sip of brandy, enjoying the rich flavor. “Will you go to Miss Chatham tomorrow?” His friend’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “What are you thinking?”
“M’sister told me that you wanted to court another lady but haven’t been able to because of Mary. I propose we do something to show her what a hero you are.”
He’d like for Dorie to see him as a hero instead of always needing her help. “What do you suggest?”
Dursley grinned. “I’m told the next ball is tomorrow evening.”
“Yes, Lady Watford is holding a ball in honor of her daughter.”
“You can’t do anything outré at that ball, Lady Adeline is a friend of Miss Chatham’s and Lady Dorie’s.”
“Nothing like that. M’mother would murder me.” He frowned. “But not until after I had an heir.” He grinned again. “Have you secured dances with Mary yet?”
“Miss Chatham? I have.” Strange that Alex hadn’t even known her first name. “The first waltz and the supper dance. I arranged for friends to fill in the rest of the sets.”
For an instant, Dursley’s eyes got a little watery. “You really are the best friend a man could have.” He drained his glass and poured another. “What I propose is that you request the same dances from Lady Dorie, is it?” Alex nodded. “We’ll have to figure out a way to get them in the same place. For I shall come and claim Mary while you claim your lady.”
“That could work.” Alex worked it through in his mind. “I’ll ask Huntley to settle his mother, wife, and Dorie near Mrs. Chatham.” Alex might also have to tell his hoped-for future brother-in-law about the scheme.
“Unless something goes wrong.” Dursley saluted Alex.
Such as Dorie not having those dances free. He wondered what had happened tonight at Fotheringale’s and said another prayer that it had not gone his lordship’s way.
Dursley once again watched as he twirled his wine. “By the by, do you happen to know if Loathsome Lytton will be present tomorrow evening?”
“I do not know. Why?”
Dursley shrugged lightly. “I would simply like to rub his face in the failure.”
“Well,” Alex said. “From what I’ve heard, it won’t be his first one this Season.”
Eyes bright, his friend sat up. “Pray tell.”
Laughing, Alex shook his head. “He offered for Lady Augusta Vivers. She has not accepted any of the many gentlemen who have made offers. It was announced at a garden party that she was going to Paris soon.”
“I can’t say that I blame her.” Dursley took a few more sips of wine. “I would have liked to have taken Mary with me when I went to Europe.”
“Do it after you wed,” Alex suggested. “You might not get another chance.”
“Excellent idea, my friend.” Dursley downed his brandy and stood. “I’d better toddle home. I haven’t had much sleep, and I shall need all my wits about me tomorrow.”
“I’d better do the same. My days start much earlier than they used to.”
His friend’s brows drew down. “Feeling the weight of the title?”
“It’s more than that.” Alex raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m having to learn everything. My father always thought we’d have time.”
“I’m glad m’father started me young.” He grinned. “I’ll have to instruct Mary, or m’mother, and I will. Based on your experience, I’ll suggest she start going out to meet the tenants when we return from our wedding trip.”
“That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about with Dorie.” Alex thought of the hours they’d spent together and smiled. “She’s been teaching me.”
Dursley barked a laugh. “She sounds like the perfect wife for you.”
“She is.” Alex walked Dursley to the door.
By tomorrow the act with Miss Chatham would be over. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to tell Dorie he loved her.
* * * *
The morning after dinner at Fotheringale’s home, Dorie needed a ride. A fast one. Exeter was waiting outside for her when her groom brought Willa around. Dorie had had a long time to think about him last night after she had returned home. How stupid and blind she had been. He was everything she wanted in a husband. If only she had focused on making him fall in love with her instead of trying to think of ways she could change Lord Fotheringale to be what she wanted. Although, even if she could have changed him, last night had shown her what a misery marriage to the man would be. If only she had not been afraid.
She wasn’t prepared when Exeter lifted her onto her horse. Frissons of pleasure shot through her, and she would have gladly fallen into his arms. If only he was not marrying Miss Chatham. Yet despite everything Dorie had done, all the ladies to whom she had introduced him, he had still been true to Miss Chatham. Despite the fact that he did not appear to be in love with her. Dorie tried not to sigh. It was too late now.
She and Exeter did not talk much, but the silence was comfortable. As if they did not have to speak but could simply enjoy this time. They raced twice. Willa seemed to have understood Dorie’s restlessness.
As they walked their horses toward the gate, Exeter glanced at her. “May I have the second waltz and the supper dance this evening?”
Was he not dancing them with Miss Chatham? Perhaps the lady was not attending. If that was the case, Dorie would not deny him. This might be the last opportunity she had to be in his arms. Soon the announcement of his marriage would take place. “Yes, you may.”
The rest of the day moved as if in slow motion. Not only that, but it was unusually warm. So warm that even her mother complained.
By evening, it had not cooled at all.
When she and her family entered the crowded ballroom, it was a hot mix of perfumes, pomades, candlewax, and flowers Dorie rarely noticed before. All the doors and windows stood open as if to encourage even the slightest breeze to no avail.
Huntley had found places for them near an open window, for which she was thankful. She only wished it had not been right next to Miss Chatham. Why was Exeter dancing with Dorie and not Miss Chatham? Dorie liked the lady, but her heart felt heavy in her breast. She waved her painted fan rapidly, trying to cool her flushed face. She was so uncomfortable she did not even wish to dance, and she was to stand up with Fotheringale next.
“My lady.” He was before her, bowing. “If you do not mind, shall we take advantage of the fresher air outside rather than dance?”
“That is a wonderful suggestion.” Dorie placed her hand on his arm. “I hope this weather is an aberration.”
“I am sure it will be seen to be so.” Fotheringale sounded a bit stiff. Strange, he was usually very easygoing. Even last night at dinner, he had taken the barbed comments flying between their mothers in stride. Perhaps it was the presence of her mother. As soon as the gentlemen had joined them, Mama announced they were leaving. Not that Dorie blamed her mother. It was Fotheringale’s remark about his mother’s rudeness being excused by her health that had her clenching her teeth.
She and Fotheringale strolled through the French windows and, considering the number of guest still inside, she was surprised to see how many people had taken refuge on the terrace and in the well-lit garden. Hundreds of small lanterns hung from trees, torches lit the paths, and it would not be dark for another hour. They descended the steps toward a large fountain, and once away from the stone and brick, the air seemed a little cooler. “Thank you. I feel better already.”
“Anything for you, my lady.” The determination in his voice surprised her.
&n
bsp; They strolled around the fountain and she was startled to find they were alone. This would not do. They had to go back. Then Lord Fotheringale stopped and faced her and she wished she knew at least one good curse.
He took her hand. “I feel as if we have become so much more than acquaintances. May I call you Dorie?”
After last evening, surely he could not seriously be thinking of proposing? “I do not believe that would be appropriate, my lord.” His face fell, and she felt as if she had kicked a puppy. She tried to soften her tone. “Only my very close friends and family call me by my first name.”
A hopeful smile formed on his lips. “I was about to suggest that we become much closer. My lady”—he dropped to one knee—“will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Before she could refuse him Exeter burst upon them and blurted, “Don’t do it, Dorie. You might think he will make you happy, but he cannot. He cannot possibly love you as much as I do.”
“Dorie?” Lord Fotheringale’s face reddened rather unbecomingly as he sputtered, “Why does Exeter call you by your name when I am denied?”
“He is, he is—” Caught between the two of them for one of the few times in her life, her brain went begging.
“Because we are friends.” Exeter captured the fingers of her other hand. If he went down on one knee she was going to smack him over the head with her fan. Once she got her hand free, that was. “Because I can’t live my life without you.” His beautiful Jasper-green eyes caught hers and she couldn’t move. Still, he was in danger of making a scene. They were all going to be laughingstocks if she could not think of a way to stop this.
She blew out a breath. “I do not suppose you could have told me that before now?”
“How was I to know he was going to propose tonight?” Exeter grumbled, and it was all she could do to keep from laughing. “I had an excellent proposal planned for tomorrow.”
Dorie would have loved to throw herself into his arms… if he had done this differently she would have. As it was, she’d have to put her hands on her hips if either one of them had been free and be stern with both men. “You did not even tell me you loved me.”
“Well, I’ll wager he”—Exeter raised his chin to Fotheringale—“hasn’t either.”
Gentlemen. Why were they always so competitive? But he had said that he loved her! She raised one brow, thankful that she had spent all of her sixteenth year practicing it. “That is no excuse for you.”
“I do hold you in the highest esteem,” Fotheringale said, tugging on her hand a bit. “My mother does as well.”
Now that was a lie. Unless the woman thought she would be able to control everything Dorie did. And truly, esteem? He did not even pretend to love her. How could she have been so mistaken in what she wanted?
Exeter snorted. “I wouldn’t care if my whole family cut me if it meant I could have you.”
Well, that was a bit dramatic. But very sweet. Still… “Not regarding one’s family is never a good idea.” A lesson learned last night. She would have waved a hand to make her point, but… “As it is I get along well with those members of your family I have met.”
He almost rolled his eyes. “That is not the point.”
“I would never argue with you either, my lady,” Fotheringale said.
Yet that was part of the problem. Even if she had not decided she would not wed him because she could not imagine living in harmony with his mother, he had never affected her the way Exeter did. “I know, my lord. It might be better if you had. You are an extremely nice man, but I am sorry that I cannot marry you.”
He dropped her fingers, rose, and bowed with stiff dignity. “I suppose I must wish you happy with Exeter.”
He left as she was deciding how to respond to Lord Exeter, who picked the moment to smirk. “I shall expect a proper proposal tomorrow. You may now escort me back to the house.”
“Dorie!” He moved as if he would embrace her right here. At a ball!
She held up her one free hand, stopping him from speaking. “I will not entertain more than one proposal in an evening.” Taking a step that left only an inch or so between them, he bent his head and for a second she thought he might kiss her, then a laugh coming from the path behind them could be heard. His eyes burned into hers, and she knew she could very easily lose herself in them. “Tomorrow.”
Raising the hand he held he kissed each of her fingers, and fire danced through her fingers and hand and up her arm. “Very well, tomorrow it is.” He placed her hand on his arm and covered it with his fingers. “And, my lady, tomorrow evening I want every single one of your dances.” Did that mean he was not going to dance with her this evening? “I will also remind you that I still have two sets with you tonight.”
“Yes. You do.” This should be the happiest moment of her life thus far, but poor Miss Chatham. How could he do this to her? “Tell me you have not led Miss Chatham on.”
Exeter stopped and turned her to him. “I have not. She wants to marry another man, not me. He has finally arrived, and not a moment too soon.” Taking her hand he raised it, again, to his lips. “Keeping up the pretense has practically killed me. I was so afraid I would lose you to Fotheringale. Not that he’s a bad man, but I love you more than he ever could.”
This time her heart melted. “I love you too. It took me much too long to realize what I should have known weeks ago.”
He glanced at her lips, and she wanted him to kiss her, but most of the guests were outside and if they were caught it would ruin everything. She would be compromised and have to marry him. This would be her choice. Although there was really nothing to decide. “Tomorrow.”
Suddenly he grinned. “Come. It’s almost time for our dance, and you need to see what Dursley planned.”
Dorie’s heart was so full she felt as if she could walk on air. “Dursley, not you?”
Exeter glanced at her. “She is his lady.”
Something just made sense. “Is that the reason my family is next to her and her mother?”
He gazed into her eyes again. “Exactly the reason.”
“Exeter.” She jerked him to a stop. “Huntley knew and I did not?”
“I had to tell him. Actually, he has known for weeks that I wanted to marry you. It was he who made me realize that I loved you. Aside from that, this was to be a surprise for you as well as Miss Chatham. She does not know Dursley has returned.”
The poor lady! How anxious she must be for her love to be here. “That is horrible of him.”
Exeter just gave a sly smile and an imperceptible shake of his head. “Wait.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As Dorie and Exeter reached her mother, the violins played the beginning of the next dance. A tall gentleman with sandy hair strode up to Miss Chatham. “Exeter said he would give me this dance.”
For a second the lady was still, her wide eyes staring into the man’s face, then she squealed and threw herself at him. “Anthony, you’re back!”
Fortunately, he appeared to have anticipated her actions for he caught her in midflight. “Thanks to Exeter. I had no idea you had made your come out.”
She glared at her mother for a moment, then turned back to Dursley. “Well, you are here now, and I could not be happier!”
People around them started to stare and whisper as he slowly lowered her feet to the floor. His head was bent and hers was tilted up. They acted as if they were the only two people in the room. “I am, and I will never leave you again, my heart.”
Staring up at him, Miss Chatham bit her lip. “Promise?”
Dursley dropped to one knee, kissed each of her fingers—it must be protocol for men in love—and said, “My adored Miss Chatham. Would you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
She clutched one fist to her chest. She probably would have clasped her hands affectingly together if he had not held the oth
er one. What was it about men and hands? “Oh, Anthony. Yes. I would love to be your wife.”
Dorie rose on her toes and whispered in Alex’s ear, “I will not throw myself at you in a crowded ballroom.”
“I would not expect it, but you have to admit, it was a nice touch.” His lips tilted crookedly. “Her parents have to allow the marriage now.”
They would, or risk a scandal. “I wonder if the ton will think she jilted you?”
“Not when they see the looks on our faces as we’re waltzing.”
She almost wished she could bring herself to fling herself into his arms. “How clever you are, my lord.”
“I have my moments.”
The chattering grew louder, and behind them Mrs. Chatham’s face had a look of horror. Dorie could not understand the reason. Dursley was the heir to an earldom. Unless it was seeing her daughter jump into a man’s arms. Mama and Caro went to the lady. It might take both of them to stop Mrs. Chatham from making a scene.
Guests in other parts of the ballroom were taking their places on the dance floor. She tilted her head toward Alex’s ear. “Shall we, my lord?”
“Indeed.” He covered her fingers with his large palm. “Let’s take Dursley and Miss Chatham with us. That will give her mother a chance to calm down.” Alex tapped on the man’s shoulder and motioned with his head toward her mother. “It’s time to play least in sight for a while.”
Dursley nodded. “I don’t know what ails the woman, but my parents will be here soon. I have faith that they will sort it out.”
The couple followed. When Alex took Dorie in his arms she knew why she had always loved dancing with him. She loved him and could barely wait to see what he had planned for tomorrow.
Alex drew Dorie closer to him as they danced. He couldn’t believe his luck. Thank God he had followed her and Fotheringale outside. Although Alex’s mind told him she wouldn’t have accepted the man, his heart wasn’t happy until he had her in his arms.
“Do you see the looks on almost everyone’s faces?” She wore a polite smile, but her eyes twinkled with mirth.
