“Quite right. Quite right,” Tobias agreed.
He fell silent again, and his breathing returned to normal. At least her embarrassment had achieved something. Tobias shifted on the seat, coming closer. Did he really find her presence a comfort, or had the mere thought of dalliance wiped his mind of whatever distress ailed him?
The Dunwoody estate came into view, candlelight streaming through the windows, and she drew in a deep breath. If Mercy, Leopold, and Tobias’ reaction were anything to go by she would be subject to even more scrutiny because of her choice of gown. Mercy had been terribly persuasive, but she was a touch anxious about how she would be received. She raised her hand to her neck, feeling the comforting weight of her jewels against her skin. She was doing this by her own choice, even if Mercy had bullied her into it.
The carriage rolled to a stop and after the stairs were lowered, Tobias bolted from the carriage followed by his brother. Mercy reached across the space and patted her knee. “You look lovely, my dear. I’m sure you’ll be much admired.”
A small kernel of doubt rose up into her throat.
She reached for the gloved hand suspended in the doorway and the moment she grasped it she knew it was Tobias’. His grip firmed, distracting her from her worries.
She wriggled her fingers loose once she was firmly on the ground and waited for Mercy to join them.
“Thank you, Leopold,” Mercy whispered. “Lady Venables, shall we go in?”
Together they swept up the staircase, arm in arm, leaving the gentlemen to follow in their wake. She handed off her things to the waiting servants and then they were announced.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Romsey, Lady Venables, Mr. Leopold Randall, and Mr. Tobias Randall.”
The usual hush swept before them and then the whispers started, fanning out to the far reaches of the room. Heads bobbed high over others to gawk. At them. At her.
“This is as bad as a cattle sale,” Leopold muttered.
“I was just thinking of a whalers hold after a long voyage,” Tobias replied dryly. “Stank just as bad, too.”
Another ripple of conversation swirled from those standing closest and Blythe held her head high. More comments like that, however accurate, might turn the tide firmly against Tobias. She really didn’t want him to be on the outside of society from his first night. He might never recover to be well received anywhere.
Their hosts, who’d been absent from the door rushed forward and fawned over Mercy. “My dear duchess, we feared you’d had a change of heart.”
Mercy smiled. “Forgive me for our tardy arrival. I was distracted by the duke this evening. He wanted to speak of frogs, of all things. I do hope he doesn’t wish to be a naturalist when he grows. He has far more important things to look forward to, after all.”
The crowd around them twittered at her remark, and the mood around them changed to one of pleasure again.
After a time, Blythe’s stepson, Venables, came forward. He acknowledged Blythe with a quick glance then turned his attention to Mercy. “Your Grace, such a pleasure to see you again.”
“Lord Venables, it’s always nice to be seen. It’s been so long since you’ve visited the district that I considered you’d never return.” Mercy’s smile was as fraudulent as her words. “May I introduce you to the new additions to my party? May I present Mr. Leopold Randall and Mr. Tobias Randall, both newly returned to Romsey.”
“More Randall’s, heh?” He looked about him. “Soon we will be overrun.”
“That is my hope, too. Life is much more lively with family underfoot. I do prefer it. Mr. Leopold Randall has asked me to marry him and I have accepted gladly.”
Another deafening rush of whispers rose around them. Mercy’s statement had effectively put paid to any wild rumors about the match. Now they knew it for a fact.
Venables skin changed an unhealthy shade of grey. “Married?”
“Yes, married or soon will be. I am quite looking forward to it. Would you excuse us? I simply must visit with Miss Emma Trimble.”
Mercy smiled at Leopold, and he came forward to offer his arm. When she took it, another whisper swept the chamber and together they swept onward.
Venables grabbed Blythe’s arm and held her back. “Who is this fellow she’s been convinced to wed?”
Blythe stared down at her stepson’s hand until he released her. “Not that you hold much store in tender emotions, but he is the man who captured her heart. Isn’t it a wonderful development that she has fallen in love again?”
“Of course, of course” he said quickly, but he didn’t look at all pleased.
When Venables took his leave, claiming to see an old acquaintance across the room, Blythe was glad to see him go. He hadn’t mentioned their lack of servants and that was a blessing. He also hadn’t noticed the absence of Adam’s things and she didn’t want to have a conversation about either topic in a crowded ballroom with every gossiping ear within hearing range.
Her gown moved as Tobias stepped up to her side. His face offered no clue as to what he was thinking. She snapped out her fan and waved it before her face. “Shall we rejoin the duchess?”
His gaze moved to the crowd where Venables stood. “Charming family you have there. Not even a polite greeting.” His lips lifted in an easy smile. “I am at your service, my lady.”
Two paces forward, their progress was halted by the bulk of Lord Archibald blocking the way. He reached for Blythe’s hand without asking and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “A pleasure to see you again, my lady. You look,” his gaze swept over her gown, “utterly breathtaking this evening.” His voice held an unfamiliar rasp and, disconcerted by his behavior, she reclaimed her hand quickly.
“Lord Archibald.” She gestured toward Tobias. “I am sure you remember Mr. Randall.”
“Yes, I believe I do,” Archibald said without warmth. The men shook hands, but it was the briefest of contact possible.
“Is Miss Trimble here? I cannot see her.”
When Lord Archibald shrugged, Tobias gestured across the room. “She’s dancing.”
Blythe stretch up on her toes, but her view was blocked by a party of taller guests. “I cannot see who with.”
Archibald stirred himself to check. “She’s partnered by Lord Shaw at the present.”
Blythe was stunned. If Lord Archibald had any real feelings for Emma he would never allow her to dance with Lord Shaw or he would be watching over her like a hawk.
At her side, Tobias stirred restlessly. Rather than give Archibald a piece of her mind before witnesses, she smiled tightly. “I will catch up with Miss Trimble when she has a free moment. Excuse us.”
She’d listen for the music to stop and catch her before Shaw could lead her astray.
“Lady Venables,” Lord Archibald asked suddenly. “May I have the pleasure of securing the supper dance on your card?”
Tobias cupped her elbow in a firm grip. That was his dance, of course, but Blythe was rather shocked by Archibald’s request. She’d hoped he’d claim Emma for that set. “Forgive me, my lord, but that dance has already been claimed by another gentleman.”
His gaze flittered around the room and when it settled on Tobias, his eyes narrowed. “Ah, then perhaps the one directly before the supper dance,” he murmured.
Blythe agreed, but she was uneasy. Lord Archibald’s behavior was just a little disconcerting. She couldn’t shake off the sense that something had changed since last they’d met.
He bowed to her. “Do not forget our dance later, my lady. I am looking forward to our time together.” His glance switched to Tobias, an unpleasant smile curled his lips.
She set her hand to Tobias’ offered arm and moved away. What on earth had that last smile been about? Why would Lord Archibald behave so strangely with Tobias after just two short meetings?
When they reached Mercy, Tobias spoke with his brother, and then he moved to the rear of the group, out of the way and distant from any conversation. Blythe frowned. Tha
t was not the way to enter society and stake a place among the people here. His reticence would be remembered.
Someone tugged on her sleeve. She turned, startled to find that, while she’d been worrying about Tobias making a good impression, the music had stopped and Emma Trimble had found her first.
Emma grinned. “You look wonderful.”
Blythe caught her friend’s hands and squeezed. “As do you. Emma dear, do you remember Mr. Randall.”
Tobias came forward at her urging, an eager smile, one she immediately distrusted, on his face.
“Of course,” Emma struck out her hand. “We have a dance later in the evening.”
Tobias took up her hand and kissed the air above it. “After supper, correct?”
Emma’s face creased into a delighted smile. “Thank you, sir. I shall look forward to it very much.”
An awkward silence followed as Emma continued to stare. After a moment, Tobias excused himself, and disappeared into the crowd. Emma’s gaze followed him.
Blythe coughed. “When are you dancing with Lord Archibald?”
Emma’s smile disappeared, replaced by a glum frown. “He’s not asked. He’s been distracted since I saw you last. We’ve barely spoken.”
“Oh, Emma. I am so sorry.” Blythe laid a hand to her throat. This wasn’t going well at all.
“I dislike admitting this, but I do feel Mr. Randall’s attention the other day was rather well timed. It seems I should resign myself to the fact that Archie sees me as a sister, even if we are third cousins.”
“Don’t give up so soon. I still believe you are the right woman for him.”
“I’m no longer so sure he is the right man for me.” Emma peered about. “Where do you think Mr. Randall has gone?”
Blythe wondered that, too, but only so he might stay away from Emma. He had made too big an impression on the young woman and Blythe wouldn’t like to have Emma’s hopes dashed. Tobias wasn’t the man for her.
She glanced over Emma’s shoulder and spotted him, lingering beside the balcony doors, appearing ready to make an escape. His face was carved in grave lines; no trace of his usual smile. Since he wore a serious expression so rarely, Blythe fought the urge to roll her eyes. Actions of that nature were not ladylike, but so tempting when it came to him.
“Lady Venables.”
Blythe turned to find herself surrounded by a dozen figures, men she knew ranging in age from her own to far older. “Gentlemen,” she greeted them nervously.
Lord Shaw stepped close. “Might I have the pleasure of the next dance, if you are not otherwise engaged?”
“Might I secure the supper dance from you tonight?” another asked.
“I’d like to request a set as well, my lady.”
Blythe gasped. She’d not expected to have a full card tonight and there were more gentlemen standing before her than were sets in the evening. She accepted those she could, but there were not enough set in the evening to satisfy them all. A few gentlemen left disappointed.
When she glanced at Emma, her friend’s expression was bleak. “They all asked you to dance with them, but none asked me. Even the ones you disappointed.”
“I cannot account for it, but I’m sure there is an explanation.”
Emma’s gaze dipped to Blythe’s gown, her eyes narrowing. “There is an explanation. That dress. Excuse me. I should go join the wallflowers where I belong.” She broke away and disappeared into the crowd.
Blythe started after her, but Tobias stepped into her path. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly.
“No. Yet I do intend to say a few words when I dance with Lord Archibald later. He should have asked Miss Trimble to dance.”
“The man should be shaking in his boots.” Tobias smiled suddenly. “I’m still waiting for my punishment and just thinking about it makes me unreasonably cold. Care to soothe me again?”
Rather than lecture him about his comment, Blythe returned her attention to the earlier event. “What happened in the carriage?”
He sighed heavily, amusement draining from his face. “Not now, B. I’ve almost found my sense of humor again. Let the matter rest.”
She studied his face. He did look more like his usual self, but she could still remember the tremble in his hand. “For now I will, but you owe me an explanation as compensation for my crushed fingers.”
“After supper.” He nodded toward the crowd. “Right now, I believe you have another swain come to beg a dance of you. Try not to break too many hearts, my lady.”
He stepped back with a laugh just as Lord Palmister joined her and promptly asked for a set, a slow one that suited his stiff knee, he joked. Blythe had to decline. Her card was full. It had been many years since she’d danced all night. She wasn’t sure if she was up to it.
Seventeen
Leopold handed Tobias a drink. “You know, Mercy talks about Blythe as if she’s a saint but by the looks of her tonight, her halo has been left behind. Watch over her, will you?”
Tobias sipped and discovered punch in his glass. Where was the whiskey when he needed it? “She’s not our sister for me to have the right to watch over her without talk.”
“No. But she will be mine soon enough.” He shook his head. “Why come out of mourning now? This is the worst possible time. We’re going to be besieged with suitors at the abbey.”
Tobias choked on his drink. “She might be out of mourning, but who said she’s aiming for another husband?”
Leopold swallowed his drink and swapped it for another. “That dress does. If she was the type to take a casual lover I wouldn’t worry so much. But those men around her have determined expressions. Each is hoping she favors them. None, according to Mercy, would have honorable intentions. They’re likely betting on who’ll get into her bed first. I may have to break some heads.”
Tobias clenched the glass in his hand. She’d be in his bed or none. He quickly downed the glass. Where had that possessive thought come from? He lusted after Blythe certainly. But anything else was impossible, unadvisable and definitely bad for Blythe’s reputation. “I need a stronger drink.”
“The card room has whiskey I’m led to believe,” Leopold murmured. “I’ll take the first watch until supper. You can take over then.”
Yes, definitely a stronger drink was required to get through the evening. “I have a dance with Blythe before supper.”
Leopold slapped his shoulder. “Excellent. That makes things even simpler. Just shadow her for the rest of the evening and keep the scoundrels at bay until we leave.”
Easier said than done. He might just be the worst scoundrel in attendance tonight for all the things he wanted to do with her. He took one last look and then edged out of the ballroom. He’d find the whiskey, and then maybe a nice quiet corner to get drunk in.
As he crossed the foyer, he heard a woman sniffling. Although he peered around, he could detect no trace of her. Mind you, if he was crying at a ball, he’d want to remain hidden, too. He entered the card room, plucked a promising looking glass from a footman and downed the contents. Ah, sweet whiskey. A balm for his bad mood.
Although he found cards interesting, he kept to the sidelines. Far too rich for his blood and his pockets would never be deep enough for such play. He shook his head. Why gamble when you have nothing?
He listened to the conversation of the two gentlemen closest.
“Prime if you ask me.”
“Sensible,” the other advised. “She won’t demand a man stand on his head and hand over a fortune for her favors.”
The two shared a long look and broke out into wide grins. “It’s a bet.”
They turned as one for the ballroom.
Tobias drained two more glasses as he told himself that both men could not have been referring to Blythe. Unfortunately, he couldn’t entirely convince himself.
Too restless to remain still, he sauntered from the room in search of a new distraction. Again, soft sniffling reached him, but this time he stopped. A lady was
truly distressed to be still crying like this. Despite his best interests being to ignore the sound, he couldn’t. Perhaps he could be of help.
He took the stairs two at a time until he stood on the first landing. He scanned the shadowed alcove above. A glint of gem struck by moonlight. He climbed the rest of the way, and stopped a few yards from the weeping woman. Her head rose and he discovered Miss Emma Trimble in tears. “Are you all right, Miss Trimble?”
She gasped and fell back in shock. “Where did you come from?”
“I heard crying and came to investigate.” He edged a little closer. “Should I send Lady Venables to you?”
Miss Trimble sobbed. “You can’t. She’s dancing with Mr. Smedly Pierce now.”
“Perhaps after she’s done with him?”
Miss Trimble’s bottom lip trembled. “Then she’s to dance with Lord Parker.”
Blythe’s full dance card did pose a problem to engaging in conversation with her. He glanced down the staircase to check that they remained unobserved and moved closer to Miss Trimble. “Why are you sitting up here, crying on your own?”
Despite her tears, Miss Trimble scowled. “Well, I wouldn’t cry in the middle of the ballroom, would I? People would gossip in the most horrendous fashion.”
Tobias sighed. “I can see why you and the countess get along so well. Why are you crying, girl?”
Miss Trimble sniffed some more. “I am crying because my dance card is empty of names for the rest of the evening, save yours. Even Lady Venables has more sets claimed.”
“Ah,” Tobias said softly. “Then I am the luckiest of men.”
Miss Trimble stared at him and her smile broadened.
Engaging in conversation, alone with Miss Trimble, could give rise to a scandal if they were discovered. That could be one way to short cut the courtship except, then he would be winning a wife without any effort on his part. That thought didn’t settle well with him.
He took a pace toward the top step. “I must return to the ballroom before we are noticed, but I have a question for you before I go that may lighten your mood. When was the last time Lady Venables danced?”
Forsaking the Prize Page 15
