by Laura Landon
“Very well, indeed,” Euphrosyne said. “I enjoyed the conversation even more.”
Lord Markville had what looked to be a proprietorial grasp on her arm as they made their way into the assembly room.
“What is bothering you?” Mr. Paulet’s lips were so close to Laia’s ear that a shiver ran down her neck.
She considered telling him, but decided not to. Over the past week, he had become a friend, but perhaps she was worrying over nothing. Her sister deserved to have fun. This kind of visit might not happen again for her. “Nothing. I am being silly.”
“I doubt that. You could be accused of being cautious.” He raised a ruddy brow. “For your sister, perhaps?”
“You have found me out.” Laia sighed. “I just do not want her to be hurt.”
“I sincerely doubt Markville is playing with her, if that is what concerns you.”
“I would be less concerned if he was.” She folded her lips wondering how much to tell Mr. Paulet. “We are not free to choose our own mates.”
“You are afraid she will run afoul of your father.” His deep voice and his heady scent of shaving soap and man enveloped her, and she found herself moving closer to him.
“Precisely.” It really was comforting being able to speak about her unease.
“It is early days, yet. Try not to worry so much until there is something to worry about.”
They had reached Mr. King, the Master of Ceremony. “Good evening, my lady, Mr. Paulet. We are glad to see you here. If there is anything I can do, please ask.”
“Thank you.” Laia inclined her head. “What lovely rooms.”
“We do try, my lady.”
Once Mr. Paulet had greeted the man, they moved on into the room. It was much taller than she had thought it would be. And all the windows were far above her head. “Why are the windows so high?”
“To keep the rabble from looking in on us.” His lips pressed together.
“You do not approve?” She and her brothers and sisters had not even been allowed to play with the local gentry.
“In a word, no.” He slanted her a curious look. “If those who do not have what we do, wish to see a world they might never know, why should they not?”
Guy watched Laia’s fine, perfectly arched brows draw together. Although she had studied the philosophers of their time and before—according to her and her brother—Laia had never had to think about putting their ideas to practice. “I do not think that merely because my ancestor or another’s ancestor did a deed for a ruler”—deep pink washed over her face and neck—“in whatever fashion, that makes me better than others.” She had been looking off, but now focused on him. “I believe one who has been born to privilege has the obligation to help others, no matter their status in life.”
He hadn’t known he was waiting for her to declare herself to be as much a Radical as he was. Still, he’d been drawn to her since they’d first met. He wanted to discover how she tasted, not just her lips, but her breasts, and the sweet spot between her legs. Yet, she was the sister of one of his best friends. She was betrothed to his uncle. Before Guy did anything, he had to be sure of his feelings. Lust alone could only take one so far.
A few feet away from them, her sister said, “Meg, will you and Hawksworth join the set?”
“No, your brother is not fond of the minuet. He would rather waltz.”
“Only with you,” he replied. “Mayhap, we should have a small ball of our own.”
Meg laughed. “Only so that you and I can waltz?”
“Other people may like to waltz as well,” he retorted.
“I regret I was not able to find time for the dancing party.” She grinned at him.
“We could plan a ball as well,” Lady Sarah said. She and Bellingham had joined their group a few moments earlier.
“Then it is settled.” Meg smiled up at her husband. “We shall be able to waltz.”
“I would like to dance the waltz as well,” Laia murmured.
“As every lady should.” Guy grinned to himself. “I shall not wait to beg your hand for the first waltz we happen to come across.”
Regally, she inclined her head. “I should be delighted.”
Strains from the violins filtered through the air, and he held out his hand to her. “My dance, I believe.”
The smile on her face as she placed her hand in his could have lit the room. “It is, and my very first dance in public.”
He had not even thought about that. She must be worried. “We shall show them how the minuet is done.”
Her light laughter pleased him. Hopefully, she was not so nervous after all. They took their places in the line. When the dance began, her steps were sure and light. Laia didn’t even falter when an older gentleman missed his step and almost ran into her. No concern showed as she righted the man and continued on as if nothing had occurred. It was as if she had been out for years.
Freed from worrying about her, he could notice the way her plump breasts rose slightly as she moved. Every once in a while, her skirts gave hints of a small waist and lush hips.
Granted, the minuet gave them time to flirt. Although, the flirting part she was still figuring out. Her face glowed only with joy and happiness. That, however, would attract the other gentlemen like bees were attracted to flowers.
Pollinating. Thoughts of flaxen-haired children invaded Guy’s mind. What the devil was the matter with him? He hadn’t even decided if they would suit and some primitive part of him was already procreating with the lady.
Taking her hand, they twirled and skipped before resuming their places on the side while others performed the same act. The set was almost over when their gazes caught. He let out the breath he’d been holding as he’d stared into her light blue eyes and fell in love all at the same time.
His friends had been right. She was the perfect lady for him. Now all he had to do was convince her to jilt his uncle, defy her father, and marry him in less than a month.
CHAPTER TEN
Before Guy even returned Laia to her brother and sister-in-law, gentlemen were queuing up to dance with her. He could feel more behind him, making him want to lead her right out of the door. If they’d been at a private ball, he would be able to do just that.
He did not want to share her at all, but one more set ought to satisfy him. “Before all your sets are taken, I would like to dance the last set of the evening with you.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment he did not think she’d answer. “I would like that a great deal. I think we dance well together.”
As if they had been made for one another. “I think so as well.”
He left her with Hawksworth just as a young gentleman with shirt points so high Guy didn’t know how he could turn his head, bowed. The popinjay would most likely step all over her pretty feet. Perhaps Guy should remove the threat before the damage was done.
Laia cast an inquiring glance at him. For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it was for. Damn, he was scowling. He needed to find something else to do until his next dance when he could be with her again.
Or tea. He could escort her to tea.
Markville came up and stood beside Guy. “Most of them are a bunch of worthless fribbles, but harmless. Hawksworth will take care of any problems. I’m off to find something to drink and the card room.”
Hawksworth was the proper person to act on Laia’s behalf. If Guy did anything, it would cause talk. “You’re out of luck. Tea is not for more than another hour and there is nothing else on the premises.”
“It’s as bad as Almack’s,” the man grumbled.
“I don’t think the bread will be stale, and at least the tea is not weak.” Or that is what Guy had been told.
“That’s something, at any rate.” Markville cast a heated look in Lady Euphrosyne’s direction.
If his lordship’s feelings were reciprocated by the lady, Laia had been right to worry about her sister. One never knew what the Duke of Somerset had planned for his child
ren. If he didn’t approve of Markville, it was either give up or the border. At least Guy had an easier road.
Thinking of that, made him wonder when his uncle would make an appearance. It was not well done of him to leave Laia to her own—or rather Guy’s—devices until Bolton decided he had time for his betrothed.
Guy had better think of his course of action, as well. Laia had been steadfast in her determination to wed Bolton. And Guy didn’t think it was because she wanted to become a duchess. It was her sense of honor and duty to her family. Still, according to Hawksworth, she had not even been asked to agree with the match. That would change when she reached her majority and had to ratify the contracts.
One way or the other, Guy would have to find a way to convince her that despite what her father wanted, she would be much better off with him and not his uncle.
There was only one way he could think of to accomplish that. Well, perhaps more than one. Although Hawksworth or his wife might murder Guy, he would introduce her to Lady Engle. Yet, not at the Pump Room. The meeting must take place privately. Not only would Laia be shocked, he didn’t want word getting back to either duke that they had met. Meg Hawksworth would be the one to help him get Laia and the older lady together. He’d speak to her tomorrow.
He sauntered off to find Mr. King. He didn’t recognize any of the ladies present, and must keep busy. Cards did not appeal this evening, therefore, dancing was the only option.
An hour or so later, Guy returned his partner to her mother then made his way directly to Laia. A young man—callow youths appeared to abound in Bath—had just made his bow, when he appropriated her arm. “Allow me to escort you to tea.”
“I was going to ask her,” the lad said flushing angrily.
Guy lifted his quizzing glass, and slowly inspected the fribble from the top of his pomatumed head to his intricately tied cravat, to his lavender knee breeches, and drawled, “Indeed? How unfortunate you are.”
Next to him, Laia’s hands covered her lips. She turned away, and her slender shoulders began to quake. The blasted woman was holding back a fit of giggles.
The youth took a step forward, and Hawksworth’s arm shot out stopping the young man. “Don’t make a cake of yourself. Mr. Paulet is with our party.”
Stepping back, the youth bowed. “Thank you for the dance, my lady. I shall hope I may escort you at another time.”
“Well, done,” Guy murmured as the lad strolled away. He turned his attention to Laia. “You abominable girl. Are you laughing?”
She mopped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I could not help myself. I have heard about the use of a quizzing glass, but I have never had the opportunity to see how it is done.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “I was truly torn between embarrassment for Mr. Hardy, and admiration for your style. Then I thought about my brothers and it was all I could do to hold back my laughter. You see, I would dearly love to see the younger ones put in their places so neatly.”
Guy tucked her arm in his. “It does seem to be a rite of passage. I suppose we are all coxcombs when we are young and dealing with Society for the first time.”
“I am quite sure that is true.” She nodded. “I think he will be better for the set-down.”
“At least his mother has the good sense to bring him to Bath instead of Town,” Meg said in a dry tone. “There is much less he can do to get into trouble here.”
Guy agreed with her. Allowing green young men to run wild was one of the more idiotic things he’d seen done. “More parents should consider the option.”
He kept Laia close to him as they maneuvered through the crowd. “Is your card full?”
“Yes. I am amazed at how many gentlemen wish to stand up with me.” Her voice was full of wonder.
Only she could be surprised at her success. “You should not be. You are as beautiful as you are graceful.”
A light blush painted her cheeks. “That is the nicest compliment anyone has given to me.”
“I shan’t say I am not given to flummery at times, but it is quite true. I have never had the pleasure of dancing with a lady who dances so elegantly. I am looking forward to our second dance.” He had discovered that the last dance was the Scottish figuree. At last, he’d be able to remain with her throughout the dance and even hold her in his arms.
“As am I.” She smiled. “My other partners have not been nearly as skilled as you are.”
He shot her a grin. “I’m glad to see we are in accord. We must dance together at every opportunity.”
“Indeed, we must.” She laughed and shook her head. "I shall be sorry to leave Bath. I’ve never had so much fun or been entertained so well.”
If it was up to him, no matter where she was, he’d see that she always had an excellent time. “Don’t despair yet. One never knows what life holds.”
. . .
Laia knew exactly what her life held. Marriage to a gentleman who had not even bothered to correspond with her or come to visit her. That did not bode well for their future. As curmudgeonly as her father could be, he always treated her mother well.
If he hadn’t been ready to depart for Scotland, he wouldn’t have allowed Mama to leave him for so long. Yet, for some reason no one could understand, she never managed to remain in Scotland for more than a week. Something always happened to one of the children. Mayhap that was the reason they were all here where she could watch out for them. It was almost the end of June and nothing had occurred. There were no broken bones, or fevers, or even an upset stomach.
The country dances began when they returned to the ballroom. Markville had joined them for tea, but disappeared again. A middle-aged gentleman came to claim her sister for the dance while a gentleman who looked to be past fifty bowed to Laia.
Did her betrothed look like his miniature?
One or two men about her brother’s age had approached, but took one look at Damon and veered off. She had been told that men on repairing leases often visited elderly relatives in Bath. That must be the reason the gentlemen had not been welcomed.
Sir Ralph was a good dancer. Unfortunately, the next gentleman had her skipping out of his way. Finally it was time for Mr. Paulet to claim her again.
He bowed elegantly then took her hand, placing it on his arm. “I am relieved this ends at eleven, otherwise, from the look of your sister-in-law, Hawksworth would be dragging you all home.”
“Meg has been stifling yawns for the past half hour, and he is watching her closely.”
“As he should.” When Mr. Paulet married, Laia was certain he would care for his wife’s well-being, not just for the sake of the child.
The last set of the evening was a Scottish figure. Laia had danced it before but her previous experiences had not at all prepared her to have Mr. Paulet’s arms around her. The rush of excitement and the frissons of pleasure caused by his touch distracted her to the point that she almost forgot where she was in the dance.
This was nothing at all like dancing with her brothers or the dancing master. Thank Heavens for her training.
During the next move, their eyes met, and she knew he had been as affected as she. Dear God, this was not supposed to happen. She could not become attached to another gentleman. Particularity one who was so closely related to her betrothed.
For the rest of the set, Laia attempted to steel herself against his touch, but she always found herself wanting to be near him. Did she have no resolve at all? The sooner the dance was over the better, but once it had ended, she missed his touch, and found herself having to consciously keep a distance as they strolled back to her family.
If she could just stay away from Mr. Paulet, yet how could she when he was friends with her brother? There was only one thing she could do. Go to Meg and tell her what had happened. She’d be able to advise Laia.
She and Mr. Paulet arrived to discover that Damon had already called for their chairs. He hurried them into the hall where the vehicles waited. Soon Laia was seated with Mr. Paulet walking beside her.
Surely, he could not wish to be attracted to her. Perhaps she should mention it. But what if she was wrong? After all, she had very little experience with men. She only knew that she had never felt this way around anyone else.
He chatted lightly about everything and nothing while she responded as her breeding required. Soon she began to relax. The answer to her problem was simple. She had simply not had enough contact with the world. She was, in fact, what her older brothers would call “green.” Mr. Paulet had most likely simply been flirting as gentlemen did. Ergo, the attraction was all on her side. And that would be easy enough to manage. No one need know anything about it.
In spite of her resolution, Laia couldn’t sleep. No matter what she did, Mr. Paulet’s face and large, warm hands intruded into her dreams. She had even gotten out the miniature of her betrothed and set it beside the bed so that she would dream of the duke instead. It hadn’t worked. Rather than strange looking blue eyes, laughing eyes that begged her to pay attention took their place. Why eyes would want her to pay heed to them made no sense at all. She was being fanciful. She turned her pillow and tried to find a more comfortable place for her head. Eventually, she fell asleep.
By the time she woke, bright sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains. Laia was tempted to roll over and close her eyes, but her sister rushed into the room. “Laia, you would not believe the number of bouquets that are in the parlor and drawing room.”
She rubbed her eyes before pushing herself up. “Bouquets?”
Euphrosyne sat on the side of the bed. “Yes, and poetry. We have each received about the same number.” She pulled a face. “All of it horrible drivel, but just think of a gentleman making the gesture. They have been arriving for hours.”
Surely the morning could not be so far advanced that . . . “What time is it?”
“Almost nine. Breakfast is being brought up to you, so you must rise now.”
“Yes, of course.” Laia never slept this late. “Why didn’t my maid wake me?”
“Mama said to let you sleep.” Euphrosyne left the bed and headed to the door. “She also said we are to expect visits from the gentlemen later today during her visiting hours.”
