“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said softly, then she stepped back. The moment she did, she seemed to blend into the walls, as if wishing to no longer be present.
The Viscount didn’t seem to notice. His arm found that of another lady who he brought forward. She smiled kindly at him, smiling broadly. The resemblance between her and the Viscount was so uncanny that Timothy didn’t need any introduction. “And you must be the Viscount’s lovely daughter. I hope I didn’t hurt you that last time. Are you all right?”
She giggled behind her hand. She looked young, her brown curls piled atop her head. Timothy had a feeling the blush on her cheeks was genuine. “I’m afraid that wasn’t me, Your Grace, but my older sister. She is somewhere in the crowd dancing with a young lord, though. You just missed her.”
“Ah, I see. I’m afraid I’ll have to swallow my apology for when I see her then.” Timothy didn’t miss the intent look the Viscount was giving him. And there was no backing out of it. He had approached Lord Roburg thinking he could use him to prevent the bothersome ladies looking for a dance, but he walked right into one himself. At least, his daughter was a beauty. “May I ask for your name, My Lady?”
Her blush deepened. “My name is Elizabeth Jones, Your Grace.”
“Miss Elizabeth Jones. What a lovely name.” Undoubtedly a lovely enough name to match the lovely face. “Would you like to dance, Miss Jones?”
“I would love to.”
Timothy took her hand, resignation rushing through him. He supposed one dance wouldn’t hurt and it would look incredibly rude if he hadn’t asked after approaching them. He caught the happy look she shot her father, finding it odd that she paid no mind to the Viscount’s wife, but perhaps she had merely forgotten she was standing there. Timothy certainly had.
“Are you enjoying the ball, My Lady?”’
Miss Jones pressed herself to him, a little closer than she should have which surprised him. He didn’t mention it though. He only listened to the soft laugh she let out before saying, “I don’t know. I haven’t been here long. But I do like the atmosphere very much.”
“I assume this is your first Season then?”
“It is,” she said with a nod. When she moved her head, her soft floral scent tickled his nose. “Words cannot begin to express how excited I am to attend the ball, not to mention the fact that my first dance is with the Duke of Brentminster.”
How bold of her to say.
Timothy nearly smiled. “It’s my pleasure to introduce your first dance of the Season. I hope everything is how you expected it to be?”
“Even more so. The music is simply lovely. And the ladies I’ve spotted are absolutely gorgeous.”
This time, Timothy was so surprised that he stumbled for a little. He drew back to look at her. “Many of those ladies are looking for husbands, as well.”
“They don’t need to look very far,” she said beaming up at him. “With the beauties I’ve been seeing, I have a feeling they won’t be very short of suitors.”
“And what of you?”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. Then opened it again, “Do you truly want to know the answer to that, Your Grace?”
That took Timothy off guard and before he knew what was happening, his feet were tangling with hers. He resisted the urge to let out a shout as he tumbled to his feet, bumping into another dancing couple when he did. The gentleman let out a shout himself.
“My dearest apologies—”
The words remained stuck in his throat. Timothy knew he should be apologizing. As clumsy as he was, he had built a routine. After every clumsy incident, apologize profusely. But the words wouldn’t pass his lips – it was impossible to when he could only stare at the magnificent beauty looking down at him.
There was no other way to put it. She was radiant, with eyes the color of honey and brown curls tumbling around her shoulders. She gave him a confused look, but before he could blink, she was being swept away by the gentleman she was dancing with. Within mere seconds, the radiant beauty was gone, disappearing into the crowd.
“Your Grace?”
Slightly dazed, Timothy looked up at Miss Jones. She looked concerned, holding a hand out to him. That, in return, also confused him. Any other lady would have been mortified, yet she was standing over him, trying to help him to his feet. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes.” He took her hand without thinking, unable to help the embarrassed blush. “My apologies, My Lady. I stumbled for a moment and couldn’t regain my balance.”
“Oh, there’s no need to apologize,” she said smilingly. “It could happen to anyone. You didn’t injure yourself, I hope?”
“No, I’m quite fine, My Lady. Thank you for your concern. Please, allow me to escort you back to your father after this dance is over.”
Her face fell a little at that but brightened back up nearly instantly. “I understand.”
The dance didn’t last much longer than that and Timothy could barely bear to look her in the face as he escorted her back to the Viscount. Neither him nor his wife must have witnessed what happened, thankfully. “My Lord, I must return this beauty to you.”
“I hope you two enjoyed yourselves?” he asked hopefully.
“I certainly did.” Miss Jones reclaimed her spot by his side, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Timothy hoped that if she planned to tell her father what happened, she wouldn’t do it in front of him. To prevent that from happening, he nodded his farewell.
“I had a lovely time, thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”
He walked away before they could say anything else. Timothy knew Lord Roburg was hoping he would stay a little longer to get to know Miss Jones, but Timothy didn’t plan to risk it. He hadn’t even wanted to dance with her in the first place and now look where it got him. Sprawled out on the floor of the ballroom, embarrassing himself in front of the beauty he couldn’t get out of his head.
Even as he walked away, he scanned the crowd to spot her. But she was truly gone and with the crowd thickening by the minute, he supposed it would take all night for him to find her.
“By the by, do you need a walking stick of some sort so you can stop tripping over your feet every minute?”
Timothy didn’t bother to look at Jonathan. He kept up his search, even though he knew there was little chances of him finding her. “The lady I was dancing with surprised me and I tripped. Hardly something a walking stick would have been able to prevent.”
“I agree,” Jonathan chuckled. “It doesn’t look like anything can stop your clumsy ways. You even bumped into a dancing couple on your way down. I nearly burst out laughing when I saw you take your fall.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. Though, I doubt Lady Hamer would have appreciated that while you’re dancing with her daughter. Lady Julia?”
“Lady Fiona. And that doesn’t matter. Do you even know who you bumped into?”
Timothy looked at him, frowning. “Should I have?”
Jonathan shook his head. “When will you keep up with the London news, my good man? You were even dancing with her sister. That was Miss Matilda Jones, Timothy. The Viscount of Roburg’s daughter.”
Miss Jones?
If she was the Viscount’s daughter, then that would mean … she was the one he ran into!
“You mean you truly don’t know?”
The words dragged Timothy out of his thoughts, refocusing on what Jonathan was saying. “Know what?”
“Her reputation. Or lack thereof, I should say. She is the lady who bore a child for an unknown man two years ago. She’s unmarriageable.”
With such a beautiful face such as that, Timothy found that hard to believe. “She’s being asked for dances though.”
“Yes, she is.” Jonathan sounded confused at that. “I wonder why that is. I’m sure most gentlemen are turned off by her motherhood. Especially seeing how she got pregnant in the first place.”
“None of that matters to me.”
Timothy returned his gaze to the crowd, more eager than ever to spot her. He could feel Jonathan’s eyes boring into him. “Why should you care at all?”
He didn’t respond. He knew what Jonathan was thinking. Timothy was already spoken for, to be betrothed to his sister, Lady Nancy Bramber. A fine lady herself, she was somewhere in the crowd and Timothy would do well to remember where he stood. But he could hardly do so with the image of Miss Jones flashing in his mind. His legs itched to weave through the crowd, his tongue longing to speak to her. He just hoped he was masking all this very well.
“It seems my sister wants her dance.”
Lady Nancy Bramber was steadily making her way toward them, smiling invitingly. Timothy couldn’t bring himself to smile. He could hardly bring himself to look at her for long, still wanting to find that lady. When she asked him to dance, he accepted without a second thought, leading her out onto the ballroom floor, half hoping he could stay on his own two feet this time around.
Then, he spotted her, and it was as if the entire world disappeared.
Chapter 4
Matilda was incredibly bored. She didn’t think it was possible. She quite liked these balls and was at least grateful she had the chance to attend them behind her sister despite not being able to participate wholly herself.
And, to her surprise, she was receiving dance requests without taking the attention away from Elizabeth. All in all, it should have been a good night – except for the fact that she was so bored, it was a struggle not to yawn every second.
She had a feeling it had something to do with the gentleman she was dancing with. This was the second time sharing a dance with him and Matilda had accepted it twice simply because their first dance had been cut short by a tripping fool. However, now that they were well into the song, Matilda was regretting it.
How can a single human being be so boring?
He wasn’t quiet. If he was soft-spoken, Matilda wouldn’t have minded so much. She would have resigned herself to enjoying the dance and going along her way. After all, there was no rule stating they absolutely had to have conversation while they were dancing.
But that wasn’t the case with this gentleman. Somehow, no matter what he spoke about, he made it so mind-numbingly dull, she was tempted to cut this short and return to her sister’s side.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes, My Lord.” He was the son of the Viscount of Nottingier, but that was as far as she remembered. His name was eluding her.
What are we even talking about now?
“Would you take a look at the fixtures of this ballroom? Marvelous … simply stunning …”
Was it his voice? Was that the thing that was driving her to sleep in his arms, even while he twirled her around the room? He was a good dancer, tall enough to block her view of everyone else around her. A seemingly-perfect dance partner in the midst of judgmental people, but Matilda would much rather endure scathing remarks about her motherhood than dance with him any longer.
Her eyes began to wander. He was still talking, content to listen to his own voice she supposed, so she let him, not bothering to sprinkle the conversation with her ‘Yes, My Lord’s’ anymore. People were watching, but Matilda easily ignored them, letting her mind wander as well.
Suddenly, she caught sight of someone nearby. There was something familiar about this gentleman, something that made her focus all her attention on him. She might have looked away, had it not been for the fact that he was staring back at her with as much intensity.
Only, it wasn’t the same negative or curious stares she was used to receiving. This gentleman’s eyes were searching, intense with another emotion she couldn’t name. An emotion that held her captive.
He was dancing with another lady. A blond-haired lady but that was as far as she saw. Her attention was focused solely on him, a distant memory of him pricking her mind. But where did she know him from?
Oh! The gentleman who fell into her not too long ago. That was him, wasn’t it? Matilda hadn’t gotten a good look at him before her dancing partner had swept her away, but she was near positive that was him.
Why is he staring at me like that?
And was he … was he coming closer? It looked like he was, twirling the lady in her arms in such a way that they drew nearer to them with each step. Without warning, Matilda’s stomach lit up. She tightened her grip on the gentleman’s hand without noticing, unable to look away, wanting to steer her partner toward him as well.
How handsome.
Matilda willed herself to look away, even when he did, but she couldn’t manage it. Of all the gentlemen she’d seen at this ball, there was none like him. Tall, with such brilliant blue eyes she could see from the distance. A pang of jealousy hit her, wishing that she wasn’t being held by this dull gentleman but instead was in the arms of that stranger. Would he ask her to dance?
He certainly looked like he wanted to. He kept looking at her, kept bringing himself closer bit by bit. She didn’t look away. Matilda knew how inappropriate that was and with a reputation like hers, she didn’t need any more fuel to the fire. But she couldn’t help herself either and in that moment, Matilda didn’t care. She willed him to look at her again, so she could tell him, convey through her eyes that she would say yes if he asked her to dance. That she would love to.
He looked at her again and she could have sworn he got her message. Those blue eyes of his darkened a bit and hope bloomed in her chest. Soon enough, the dance would be over. He would ask her, wouldn’t he?
But then he looked away and Matilda wasn’t so sure anymore. Her heart sank when she saw him twirling away from her, smiling slightly at the lady in his arms.
“The dance was lovely, My Lady. I hope you would honor me with another?”
Matilda blinked, drawn back to the present. She looked into the face of the gentleman she had been dancing with and suddenly remembered that he was handsome. That was perhaps why she had accepted in the first place. With all his dreadful boring talk, she had completely forgotten. “I would love to, My Lord, but I would love to rest my feet a bit. I hope you understand?”
“Of course, of course. Let me escort you back—”
“That’s quite fine, I can make it on my own.”
She turned away before he could say anything else. All her senses stood on end, even when she spotted her mother standing off to the side of her father as he chatted with a few earls. Matilda made a beeline for her then twirled, hoping to see the gentleman in the distance. The dance was over and he and the lady he had been dancing with were on the opposite side of the room, in a spot where she could see him perfectly.
Matilda didn’t care to stop her staring. The other dance would be starting soon. Would he come over? He was talking to a blond-haired gentleman at his side, the lady he was with standing next to him as well. She stared as intently at him as Matilda did, smiling broadly, clearly hanging off every word he was saying. Because of that, he didn’t look back at Matilda once.
“Matilda!” An out-of-breath Elizabeth flounced over to her, a gentleman coming up behind her. As soon as he caught sight of Matilda, he nodded stiffly and left. Elizabeth gave him a semi-dirty look at that but returned her attention to her sister. “I am just beat! Who knew dancing could be so tiring?”
“You should save your energy,” Matilda told her. “Take care not to sweat too much.”
“Of course, of course. That was the Earl of Jaspard’s son, you know? He is a very kind gentleman.”
“He does seem like it.”
“But he didn’t even greet you, so I don’t think I’m interested anymore. Who are you staring at?”
“No one.”
Elizabeth drew closer, trying to catch her line of sight. Suddenly, she gasped. “Are you looking at the Duke?”
Matilda blinked at her. “The Duke?”
“Yes! Do you remember the gentleman who ran into you at the port last week? That’s him! The Duke
of Brentminster!”
Matilda couldn’t believe her ears. She looked back at the gentleman, who was now staring back at her, while the lady spoke to the blond-haired gentleman he was with. “The blond one or the dark-haired one?”
“The dark-haired one, Matilda. He asked me to dance while you were dancing with the last gentleman. Didn’t you see us? He bumped right into you.”
“I noticed when he fell but I didn’t get a good look at him. Not that I would have been able to notice he was the Duke, however.” He looked away once again, returning his attention to the lady, jerking a bit when she spoke to him as if just remembering that she was standing there. “Do you know who that lady is?”
“Of course, I know her. She’s Lady Nancy Bramber and the other gentleman is her brother, the Viscount of Ferbriand. They all seem very close, don’t they?”
The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 3
