Page 11 of Loving a Dowager
“I can’t see a blasted thing.” Henrietta rose onto her tiptoes.
“Might I suggest an alternative.” He waited for her to face him and then summoned the courage to pose the question he’d asked a million times in his mind. “Dear Henrietta, would you care to dance with me?” The air in his lungs burned as he waited for her answer. Since her return to society, she had refused every other gentlemanly offer, preferring to remain steadfast in the matrons’ drawing room.
Henrietta’s eyes widened. “You want to dance with me?”
“I don’t see another Henrietta about, do you?” He looked to his left then right.
Bobbing a quick curtsy, she answered, “It would be an honor to partner with you this eve.” Her pretty, rounded cheeks were flushed with color.
As they made their way through the wave of guests exiting the dance floor, a barrage of elation, terror and triumph rolled through Walter. Henrietta squeezed his arm and gave him a reassuring smile, which calmed his nerves for a moment before he realized he’d lost track of the program for the evening. What was to come next—the cotillion? A quadrille? His heart raced as couples next to them took their position. It was to be a waltz! At the prospect of whirling Henrietta about for thirty minutes, in what some still considered a scandalous display, his pulse accelerated and his muscles tensed. The pace at which he was becoming reacquainted with Henrietta was dizzying, yet he’d not forgo the opportunity after fantasizing about the woman for the majority of his life.
Glancing about the room he became aware of the covert glances and the unfurling of fans by many of their acquaintances standing nearby. Walter frowned, noting the evil glares shot in Henrietta’s direction especially from a gaggle of women huddled at the end of the refreshments table.
“Ignore them—they are merely jealous.” Henrietta’s smile remained but her voice held an edge that had not existed earlier.
He settled one hand at the center of her back and tightly clasped her hand in the other. “Jealous?”
“Aye, it is rumored you rarely dance.” There was a sing-song lilt to her statement, which meant only one thing—she was leaving out pertinent details.
He braced himself for her answer and said, “And?”
“And… it has been noted over the years, you only subject yourself to the exercise with widows… widows who hoped to have you warm their beds. However, you fulfilled the wishes of a select few and for short periods at a time.” She winked at him, settling her hand upon his shoulder. “I can see you are shocked by the news. Yet even as a boy you held a certain allure.”
Said the woman who crushed his heart at the age of fourteen. Humph. A much younger version of himself flashed before him, kneeling, holding Henrietta’s hand, and declaring his intention to marry her one day. While she’d claimed she cared nothing for the ramifications of marrying a man four years her junior, she would not have him ostracized from the ton due to her unconventional ways. Believing he would fail to change Henrietta’s stubborn mind, the younger and less experienced version of himself caved to her insistence on remaining friends. Knowing of her wish to marry for love, he had convinced himself that she wouldn’t find another that would love her as much as he. That he had time. Except he had not envisioned the existence of a kind, generous, honorable soul like George Neale.
The music began and he set them into motion. Henrietta was light on her feet, and as the seconds passed, his muscles began to relax as they moved as one. Confident he’d not step on her toes, Walter asked, “Did the gossip regarding my choice of partners influence your decision to accept my offer to dance?”
Her steps faltered slightly but he caught her and twirled her until her smile returned. “I’m a realist, Walter. I’m fully aware that I hurt you, deeply, the night I declined the chance of having you as a husband. I have not forgiven myself for causing you pain, nor do I expect your forgiveness.”
He leaned in and said, “I forgave you long ago, my dear. Long ago.”
She tilted her head and pinned him with a curious stare. “Does that mean you…” He switched directions to avoid a couple whizzing by. Regaining her balance, she continued, “Are the rumors true? Do you only dance with those you wish to bed?”
He raised an eyebrow and the pinkish tinge in her cheeks deepened. Since her return to society, he had fantasized on numerous occasions of boldly approaching and whisking her away from balls, soirees, the theatre. But his fantasies always abruptly ended when reality set in. He couldn’t steal her away, and he certainly couldn’t sneak her into his nephew’s townhome with his niece in residence. Tonight was no different. He cleared his throat.
“You know as well as I the dangers of believing gossip.”
She edged closer, the scent of violets tickling his nose. “My thanks for not answering a question with a question. However, your reply still has me curious.” Henrietta wagged her brows at him like she had when they were children, but they were no longer in their youth and her actions caused more than his heart to leap. He needed a distraction, or with their close proximity, Henrietta would soon find out that the rumors were indeed true. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of his nephew standing alone. “It appears Miss White has had enough of Nicholas. She has abandoned him.”
He led her into a turn so she could witness the dark scowl that masked his nephew’s fine features. She followed his lead with ease, her body moving in time with his. Before his mind could ponder over their compatibility in bed, he asked, “Do you know how old Miss Marina White is? I don’t recall which year she made her debut.”
Squinting up at him, Henrietta said, “I believe Miss White shall soon turn nine-and-twenty.”
He shortened his step to avoid yet another errant couple. “How interesting that you would endorse Nicholas marrying an older woman.”
“Older?” The surprise in her voice sent another jolt of pleasure through him. It was a rare occasion for the woman to be caught unawares.
“Aye, Nicholas has only recently turned eight-and-twenty himself.”
“That would make Miss White his senior by mere months. If it is true your nephew is wise beyond his years, her age should not prove to be an issue.”
The crinkle in her brow and the slight waver in her normally steady tone raised Walter’s suspicions. “Nevertheless, she is older and no doubt it would be commented upon.” The views and the opinions of the ton remained stilted regarding unions between an older woman and a gentleman. From the deepening of her frown, it was apparent Henrietta remained unconvinced the benefits of such a union would outweigh the censure of the ton regardless if the couple were in love. However, he hoped if Miss White were to capture Nicholas’s heart, his nephew would be bold and brave enough to offer for the woman’s hand.
Henrietta tilted her head slightly. He followed the direction of her gaze that was sadly no longer focused upon him. Landon glared back at him. If Henrietta was correct that it was common knowledge that he only danced with those he let into his bed, surely her son had also heard the same. Walter grumbled, “I believe your son is unhappy with the sight of you in my arms.”
“Will Landon’s displeasure prevent you from asking me to dance in the future?” Henrietta’s lips twitched at the corners.
He could not stop his own grin from appearing as he replied, “Nay. I shall not be thwarted. Will you be discouraged from accepting?”
