Page 12 of A Fake Courtship with the Marquess
Arabella was so stunned by the question she missed a step altogether, and had to be swung around in his arms to get them back into the swirling rhythm without interrupting the flow of the partners behind. Even so, she caught a nasty look from the poor young lady who had borne the brunt of Henry’s champagne spillage. Lady Rachel, or something like that, now cheerfully being swept around by a handsome gentleman.
“Judging by your stumble, you either adore the idea, or you disapprove so severely that even your knees are furious with me?” Henry laughed, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. But it was not the cruel, taunting mischief she remembered from his boyhood.
She collected herself. “I neither adore nor disapprove. I am more confused about where such a suggestion has come from? Do you know something I do not about my mother and father, and yours?”
“No, but I know something of Society, Lady Arabella.” He steered her around the tightest corner of the floor, rising and falling gracefully to the music. Truly, he was a very elegant dancer, which made her fumbles all the more irksome.
“Are you going to enlighten me, or are you intending to leave me in suspense until the next dance?”
Henry grinned. “We are all interchangeable, Lady Arabella,” he explained, his hand clasping hers more intently. Though she wore her gloves, she could feel the strength of his pleasing fingers, and wondered if his palms were rough or smooth.
“Youmight be,” she scoffed.
“Precisely.” He flashed a wink. “Let us… delay our engagement. A wedding will not take place until the end of the Season at the earliest, anyway, so we have several months at our disposal. If I were to go to my mother and father, and you were to go to yours, and ask if we might have these months to partake in a proper courtship, that should be ample time to find ourselves a better match. If we do not succeed, you and I will have our marriage of convenience, as planned.”
She pretended to be insulted. “Do you find me that displeasing?”
In truth, she was genuinely curious.
“It is not about me, Lady Arabella. Your brother’s words keep echoing in my head—how you deserve happiness after the life you have been dealt.” The sincerity in his voice made her lips part in astonishment. “Perhaps it is your gaudy gown bedazzling me and addling my mind, but I find I happen to agree, so I would like to offer you the opportunity that has been taken from you.”
She turned her head until she was gazing directly into his eyes. An improper maneuver for this dance. “A ruse of some fashion?”
“Indeed. We plead for our ‘dictators’ to postpone the banns and ask for a courtship, claiming we have discovered a spark this night which warrants exploration. That granted, the courtship shall be a pretense that allows us to live our lives as we please when we are not pretending to be besotted with one another,” he explained. “Then, should we find better matches, our parents will not see it coming. Nor will they be able to refuse, if such matches are more suitable than you and I would be.”
The orchestra moved into the closing segment of their accompaniment, speeding up Arabella’s decision, for she did not know if she would be able to speak so frankly with Henry should the next dance be more distanced.
“Yes,” she blurted out, sensing this might be her last chance for the romantic love match she had longed for her entire life.
Henry smiled, though his forehead had beaded with perspiration, and there was an unusual, greenish tinge to his skin. “You speak with your parents, and I shall speak with mine. Let us correspond with the answer before meeting again to begin our subterfuge.”
“You sound as if you are ready to flee before the set is finished?”
The very second the orchestra ceased, giving the dancers a moment or two to catch their breaths before diving into the next piece, Henry released Arabella and bowed his head. “I apologize, Lady Arabella. It is no slight on you, but I… feel rather unwell.”
He darted away without further excuse or apology, sprinting around the tables of spectators and barreling through the ballroom doors. Arabella feared he might involve himself in another collision with someone, but he vanished from sight without any to-do… abandoning her in the middle of the ballroom floor, partnerless, and feeling suddenly as though all eyes were upon her once more.
You had best believe I will find myself another match, you scoundrel.
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment, as she struggled to block out the cruel giggles of nearby ladies. Meanwhile, the conductor of the orchestra stared at her expectantly, as if to say,“What are you doing? If you have no partner, clear the blasted floor!”
Just then, a tall, striking figure stepped in and seized hold of her hand, resuming the position Henry had previously taken. The conductor began to waft his baton, thin as a bird bone, bringing in the orchestra as an ordinary waltz began.
“Lord Powell!” Arabella gasped, and so did the ladies around her.
The Baron smiled warmly. “I could not bear to watch you flounder alone because of that rogue.” His head bent slightly toward her as they stepped in time to the music. He lacked some of the elegance of Henry, but he made up for it by being present. “Though that is not the only reason, Lady Arabella.”
“No?” Her throat constricted as she gazed up at him, grateful beyond measure for his intervention. True, it was entirely against propriety for a gentleman to cut in, especially with an engaged woman, but she knew an exception would be made in such circumstances.
He shook his head. “You are the most beautiful creature here, and the only lady worth dancing with. I ought to thank Lord Haskett for vacating your card prematurely.”
“Are you in need of spectacles, Lord Powell?” she teased, wishing she had her fan so she could cool her flushed cheeks.
He chuckled. “I have no need of them. I can see you perfectly. Now, what do you say we dance and enjoy ourselves, and revel in the envy of those around us?”
“I would like that very much.”
Following his lead, she was soon laughing and smiling at his anecdotes, his handsomeness, his easy charm. Perhaps, thanks to him, there would be more to this night than humiliation and despair. And, thanks to Henry’s timely departure, perhaps a love match could be found, after all. Maybe, he was already standing right in front of her.
