Page 37 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
“I am well. And you?”
“Excellent.”
There was a short silence.
“Would you care to dance?” the other gentleman, the second son of Lord Ely, asked.
“I would be delighted,” she replied.
She and her partner passed through two country dances next to Edith and Lord Wycliffe. By the time the set had ended, she was quite breathless.
Louisa begged off another request to dance as Edith and the viscount returned to her side.
“Until tomorrow,” Lord Wycliffe said with a bow and hastily departed.
Louisa had hardly a moment to think about his departure as she was approached by a lord with another glass of Negus and kept busy with dances for the next few hours.
The midnight supper was a welcome respite. “I don’t want to dance anymore,” Louisa whispered to Edith.
“It seems every gentleman wishes to escort you to the floor,” Edith replied with a wink. “Is it your dress or the attention from Lord Wycliffe?”
Louisa frowned, irritated to think her newfound popularity was due to the viscount. She was out of sorts and was afraid her melancholia had more to do with Lord Wycliffe’s exit from the ballroom than she cared to admit.
Chapter Thirteen
Cecil entered his coach and settled back against the velvet squabs. He was famished.
Although he rode, boxed, and walked quite a bit, the dancing had tired him.
Louisa was an excellent dancer. Graceful. Edith was light on her feet but not nearly as graceful as her friend.
He recalled Lady Louisa’s smile while she danced. It was open, unaffected. So many of the debutantes appeared to wear a mask of boredom. Perhaps they were bored. He’d enjoyed dancing with Louisa, although he hadn’t expected to.
It was rare for him to attend marriage mart events. He had no plans to find a wife, and the entertainments of the season were held for a man to secure a spouse. And as for Almack’s? Heaven forbid.
Seated in the upper dining room of White’s enjoying a glass of port, he thought about how he would get the clock out of his drawing room and into his carriage on the morrow. There was a box of books he’d been meaning to dispose of. That would do well enough. He would cover the clock with the books. Now that was sorted, he could relax.
His dinner of beef and boiled potatoes arrived. Several gentlemen walked by his table and called a greeting, but no one stopped for a conversation. He’d cultivated few friendships; perhaps that was why he missed the company of Ashford and Nathaniel.
He finished his meal. When he exited the building, Cecil waved his driver off, determined to walk his introspective mood away. Walking stick in hand, he wasn’t worried about traversing the London streets at night. He enjoyed the night; he felt a part of it.
Cecil whistled the melody from a piece of music at the ball. A vision of Lady Louisa’s laughing face came to him. It had been a pleasant change to see her smiling rather than scowling at him.
He would see her again tomorrow. He reminded himself why. He was going to bring down the RA and find his brother's killer in the process. The clock she possessed was the only reason he'd danced with Louisa and the only reason he would let her help solve the riddle of the clocks.
* * * * *
Louisa was exhausted. She nearly fell asleep in the coach on the way to Carstairs after the ball.
“You’re smiling,” Edith said from her place on the squabs across the carriage.
“I am?” She sat up and smothered a yawn. “I can’t think why. My feet ache, and all I want is my bed.”
The light inside the coach came from the outside lanterns on the carriage, and she could see Edith grinning at her in the near darkness. Louisa didn’t comment as she was too tired to ask why.
Nathaniel merely looked out of the coach window as he held one of Edith’s hands. He looked content. Happy. Louisa was glad as he really was a very nice man.
When the coach came to a halt in front of Carstairs, she said to her friends, “Don’t worry about seeing me into the house. One of the footmen will look after me.”
