“I am only pointing out that it is as easy to fall in love with a rich, handsome man as it is a blind soldier-turned-farmer.”
“Mama! I must beg you to refrain from such talk! Now, I do believe more guests have arrived. I intend to return to the ballroom and pass the time with more congenial company.” Elizabeth then turned on her heel and marched out of the room with as much refinement as she could manage. Her ears and cheeks felt hot and she knew that she must look a trifle fearsome, but she found that nothing would abate her anger. She passed along the edge of the dance floor where a number of couples were enjoying the music, including Mr. Lloyd-Jones and his sister, their dark heads close together and as handsome as two people could ever wish.
She quickened her pace so as to put the Lloyd-Joneses beyond her line of vision when, to her horror, they looked up and took notice of her. Quickly, her face hotter than before, she turned away and all but ran towards the exit. She had not got very far, however, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she whirled to come face to face with the very one she hastened to avoid. He appeared to be suddenly far more amenable than she had known him to be, his expression one of openness and even suppressed mirth. She thought she had never beheld a more welcome sight in all her life and the intensity of her feelings nearly robbed her of breath.
“Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” she said, panting from her exertion a bit more than comfort allowed. “I had thought you dancing with your sister.” The words were out before she thought better of them and she was left to wish she had not given him the satisfaction of learning she had been mindful of him. The slow smile that started in his eyes to finally reach those full, well-shaped lips was the final blow to her self-possession.
“Miss Armistead, my sister insists that I tender my apologies. In point of fact, I hadn’t the need for her to tell me so; I realize that I was insufferably rude. However, I must assure you that it had naught to do with you that prompted my actions. I hadn’t thought how my concern for other matters should be perceived by you and your mother.” He held out his hand and waited until she placed hers in his grasp. “I do beg your forgiveness,” he said and bowed over her hand, kissing the air a hair’s-breadth above her fingers.
Elizabeth had never known her heart to beat at such a rate nor her stomach to be so aflutter. She suspected that her countenance bore the self-same expression she had seen on so many faces of those young men who admired her and she loathed herself for it. Yet, there was nothing to be done; she found Mr. Lloyd-Jones to be the most attractive man of her acquaintance.
Bearing in mind the fact that outward appearances revealed the very least about any individual, she collected herself and convened her thoughts on which words should form a sensible reply. “Mr. Lloyd-Jones, you have done nothing for which to berate yourself. As for myself, I do not hold you in less esteem for any action taken here this night. On the contrary, I do not believe I have ever been the recipient of so pretty an apology, especially one over such a trifling offense.”
He drew himself up to his full height as she spoke and now stood so near that he seemed to tower over her. It was a wholly pleasant sensation, as if he need only spread wide his arms and she should be entirely swallowed up in his shadow. With most men of her acquaintance, it seemed very much otherwise, including Duncan who needed her so very much.
“How very kind of you to overlook my slight, Miss Armistead. Since you are present tonight for the purpose of dancing, might I be allowed the privilege of leading you out onto the floor at the beginning of the next set?”
“Well, I . . Yes, of course. I should be delighted,” Elizabeth stammered. “I have always believed dancing to be the most amiable course of exercise.”
He looked as if he wished to say something but checked himself just in time, whereupon he smiled, and said, “In this particular instance, I shall be most delighted by the company.”
Elizabeth had been the recipient of hundreds of pretty, even lavish, compliments, but none had pleased her as had these words of Mr. Lloyd-Jones. “I, too, look forward to it, I assure you. However, I am afraid that your sister has been left alone too long on the dance floor.”
Without a word, he hastened off to rescue his sister whilst Elizabeth waited for the wobbling in her knees to pass. If this, truly, was what the young men of her acquaintance experienced when they beheld her, she once again considered herself most fortunate that Duncan was blind and immune to such a bewildering happenstance. Why Mr. Lloyd-Jones seemed immune to her, despite his acute eyesight, was a question whose answer she looked forward to discovering.
While she waited for the next set of music to commence, she went in search of her mother and disclosed to her the news that she had accepted an invitation to dance with Mr. Lloyd-Jones. “I am quite aware that you are beside yourself with delight, Mama, however, it is only a dance. Dancing is why we accepted the invitation here tonight in the first place, is it not?”
“But, of course, Elizabeth, it is only a dance, but who knows to what it might lead?”
“Mama, why must you insist on being so vexing? If you have no reverence for the promise I have made to another man, I am persuaded that Mr. Lloyd-Jones has. I cannot imagine that he has a single solitary design beyond that of dancing with a fellow guest.”
“I am merely pointing out that one dance might lead to a second and so on and so forth,” Mrs. Armistead said with a sniff.
“What is this ‘so on and so forth’?” Elizabeth requested. “No, never mind, I have no wish to know. We have been invited to dine at his establishment, is that not enough?”
“Oh, yes, it is quite, quite wonderful. I daresay he has a beautiful home and most likely constructed quite recently, too, not one of those hovels dating practically back to Shakespeare.”
Elizabeth wished nothing more than to laugh, but the music had now ceased and Mr. Lloyd-Jones and his amiable sister were even now approaching. “Mama, please do behave yourself and pray do not say anything you shall wish unsaid.”
“I?” she asked, her eyes wide. “I have never regretted a single word that has escaped these lips.”
“I am persuaded that is perfectly true,” Elizabeth murmured to herself just as Mr. Lloyd-Jones reached her side, his hand outstretched and waiting for hers. Briefly she considered telling him that she had changed her mind for she was suddenly very afraid. What if dancing in the arms of this captivating man resulted in a lifelong discontent with the lot she had chosen for herself? However, her hand moved as if of its own accord to place itself in his and before she had a chance to demure, he had escorted her out onto the dance floor.
To her great relief, the musicians struck the chords of a contra-danse and her time in conversation, not to mention his arms, would be limited. She found, then, that she could smile and enjoy the dancing with no self-recrimination. She could not compare it to time spent similarly with Duncan as his lack of vision did not allow them the opportunity, but she found it far superior to dancing with the young officers who failed to vanquish the desire that flared in their eyes when they gazed at her.
Too soon the music came to a halt. Elizabeth expected to be immediately led back to the auspices of her mother, but it seemed that Mr. Lloyd-Jones had the opposite intention.
“Would you object to another dance with me; the next waltz, perhaps? I find it much more conducive to conversation and I find myself keen to learn from you of India. You must have had a fascinating childhood.”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “If any of the soldiers with whom I have danced had suggested anything as beyond the pale as a second dance of an evening I would, of course, be forced to decline. However, as I am betrothed to another, I trust there will be no misapprehension between us. I find that I should like, very much, to tell you about my home, but only if you tell me about yours. I am more than a little captivated with the land of my ancestors.”
He did not immediately respond as the music had once again been sent aloft and, as it was indeed a waltz, he took her hand and
placed one of his at her waist. “Shall we begin?”
She rested her left arm along his shoulder and took a deep breath; the waltz had not been long performed in Bengal and she had no wish to mortify Mr. Lloyd-Jones. She had not long to contemplate her thoughts, however, for soon they were whirling about the room together and she could think of naught but keeping up with him. He was an exceedingly skilled dancer, or so she supposed though she had few but the young officers stationed in India with whom to compare.
“Well, then, Miss Armistead,” Mr. Lloyd-Jones said as he looked down into her eyes, “this seems a most opportune time to divulge to me the fascinations of India.”
“But where shall I begin?” she asked whilst silently observing that, in order to converse, she was forced to crane her neck at an awkward angle. However, if she did not, her forehead grazed against his chin in a too-familiar fashion she was powerless to prevent. Indeed, he swept her about the room with such authority, it seemed as if she need only submit and he would execute the dancing for the both of them.
“Perhaps you might start by telling me about your family. Your mother I have met and your friend, Miss Hale, but have you no sisters? Brothers? Have they enjoyed growing up in India as much as have you?”
“I am possessed of two younger brothers who, I am persuaded, are every bit as irascible as they should have proved to be had they grown up in England. My mother has resisted sending them to be schooled abroad, but I expect it is a disagreement my father shall presently win. Mr. Cruikshank and I shall look forward to hosting them for the course of their holidays as well as the heaving of a sigh when we see the backs of them, I suppose.”
“I should have liked a brother or two,” Mr. Lloyd-Jones remarked, “though I often feel as if I have enough to do in looking after my sister. She is not in the least wayward and yet she seems to find herself in more than her share of scrapes.”
“Miss Lloyd-Jones? Never say so!” Elizabeth insisted as she realized that the pain in her neck was due to the fact that he held her entirely too close for proper conversation. “She seems the epitome of pleasing comportment,” she added a bit faintly.
“Oh, entirely! I haven’t the slightest qualms when it comes to her behavior. And still, the most appalling commotion seems to rise up round her like a sudden thundercloud burst onto the scene of a pure blue sky.”
“Somehow I do not believe you. She is a lovely girl, in every way. I wish I had a sister as kind and merry as she.”
Mr. Lloyd-Jones bestowed on her a beatific smile, one that denoted his great affection for his sister. “Yes, I am most blessed in her. As such, I find I am particular as to whom she should marry.”
“More so than your parents?” Elizabeth asked with great interest in spite of the pain in her neck and the ensuing faintness that, moment by moment, grew more imminent.
“My mother is no longer with us,” he replied as a dark cloud passed over his face, “and while Analisa’s mother is all that she should be, I can hardly hope to stand against my father in this matter, let alone his wife. But that is neither here nor there. We were meant to speak of India, were we not?”
Elizabeth managed a little nod but felt that if she were not allowed to ease the pressure to the back of her neck, she should surely swoon. “Mr. Lloyd-Jones, I do not believe I have ever experienced waltzing thus. I confess to feeling as light as a feather in your arms, however, if you were to loosen your hold just a trifle, I should find conversation more comfortable.”
Immediately, he loosened his grip, a circumstance she instantly regretted as she knew she was safer in the tight circle of his arms. As matters stood, she was doomed to fall to the floor. The room began to swirl about her and her vision narrowed until all was utter darkness.
Chapter Five
Colin stared at the white face that lolled against his black coat sleeve and knew he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his days. It was his last thought before the humiliation assailed his senses; the fault for her fainting could be laid entirely in his dish. Why he had gripped her so tightly in his arms was anyone’s guess. It wasn’t that she seemed in need of his strength; she did not seem the least bit frail—quite the opposite—and yet, in spite of her efforts to conceal it, he sensed in her an unaccountable vulnerability.
More likely his rigidity on the dance floor was due to his anxiety with regard to his deflated confidence as a result of his broken engagement. The breaking of his pact with Tony, and at such a rapid rate, did nothing to improve Colin’s opinion of himself, either. It hardly mattered that he was thoroughly justified in the breaking of both promises, he still wanted nothing more than to curse, competently and at length. However, he did not; the girl in his arms was in need of a gentleman and he was the one at hand.
Quickly, he scanned the room for an unoccupied piece of furniture, preferably a sofa of some length where she could be arranged in comfort. He spotted one on the far side of the room and instantly began to bark at the circle of onlookers. “This lady has fainted; do allow me to pass!” When the crowd did not immediately part, he cradled her more tightly in his arms, her head protected along the inside curve of his shoulder while he engaged the outer to butt against those in his path.
Analisa ran to his side and he was only too grateful to order her about. “Find her mother and have her meet me at the sofa by the fireplace. No, wait!” Concerned that it would be too warm and stuffy by the fireplace, he changed direction and headed to a different sofa, this one beneath a window. “Here, Analisa, she shall be here,” he called in what amounted nearly to panic. Appalled at his heart-pounding apprehension, he forced himself to slow down and succeeded in placing his burden on the sofa without further mishap.
The moment she was no longer in his arms, she began to stir. “Where am I?” she asked as her head swayed to and fro.
He fell to his knees at her side and took her hand. “All is well,” he said, vastly relieved that his words were indeed true. “You shall be right as a trivet in a moment.”
At his words, her head turned in his direction and she opened her eyes. For a moment, she seemed sadly bewildered but then her gaze fastened onto his face and she smiled at him with such sweetness that his heart seized up in a most peculiar fashion.
Suddenly, she frowned and uttered an “oh” of alarm as her hand slid from his grasp. Pushing herself upright, she looked about. “I fear I have created a scene. Is my mother nearby?”
Colin turned to look about the room and spotted the approach of Mrs. Armistead. “She is nearly upon us.” He rose to stand and stepped away to allow Miss Armistead’s mother to tend to her daughter. It occurred to him, then, that he was no longer strictly required, yet he had no wish to depart before she had entirely recovered. “Do you wish to go home? Shall I have your carriage brought round?” he asked for lack of any better reason to remain at Miss Armistead’s side.
“Oh, please do,” Mrs. Armistead replied as she chafed her daughter’s hands and pinched her cheeks. “I shall take you straight home to Aunt Augusta’s and tuck you into bed, my sweet,” she cooed.
Reluctantly, Colin turned away and went in search of a footman. After some thought, he realized that should he order his carriage be brought round with the Armistead’s, he could insist on his willingness to escort the ladies home in his own conveyance. Miss Armistead would be afforded the company of Analisa while those who saw them leave together would refrain from speaking ill of the girl who had the great fortune to be escorted from the party in the company of the Lloyd-Joneses.
Satisfied with this arrangement, he found himself suddenly eager to host the ladies at a dinner in his home as Analisa had suggested. It would give him the opportunity to make amends to Miss Armistead and perhaps she should regale them all with the promised tales of India. He returned to the Armistead’s and informed them that once they had proffered their adieus and retrieved their wraps, his carriage would be at their disposal.
“Oh, but we have our own carriage, Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” Mrs. Armist
ead blustered. “It is not as if we arrived in anything as pedestrian as a hackney cab. Elizabeth’s Aunt Augusta is very good ton, I shall have you know!”
“Yes, of course she is, Mrs. Armistead,” he assured her, though he hadn’t the slightest idea who Aunt Augusta might be. “I hadn’t meant to imply anything untoward; I only thought to escort you home in my carriage. It would be a boon to me, as I am more than a little alarmed and shall feel better when she is safely home. My sister shall come along, as well, to lend us countenance, and your carriage may follow along behind. Does that suit you?” he asked with a little bow.
“Oh, yes, indeed it does,” she cried as her spectacles slipped to the end of her nose. Hastily, she adjusted them, her hands, one full of a pointless lorgnette, shaking. “I do assure you that Elizabeth has not fabricated her condition so as to prevail upon you in any way. How I should scold her if she had!”
Colin observed how Miss Armistead turned at her mother’s words so as to hide her blushes, but she was not quick enough to keep them from his observation. “The thought hadn’t occurred to me,” he hastened to assure them. “As proof of my good will I wish to renew my sister’s invitation to dine at my house; shall we say Thursday next? I intend on serving a great many delicacies for your enjoyment, ones that cannot be had in India.” He hadn’t any earthly idea what those foodstuffs might be, but he was determined to find them out. He also decided that alterations to the dining room would commence the moment he had breakfasted in the morning.
“How very lovely, Mr. Lloyd-Jones! Elizabeth and I shall very much look forward to it, won’t we my dear?” Mrs. Armistead crooned. “And now it is time that you got to your feet.”
Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice Page 6
