Page 40 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
Emmeline looked down at her card and shook her head. “I do believe I am free.” She allowed the man to escort her on to the dance floor. Lord Gorham was older than her brother and Lord Torrington by a number of years. Lady Grayson had indicated that he was influential, so she could stand a dance even if she was not attracted to him.
As they danced, Lord Gorham spoke. “I saw that you were dancing with Lord Torrington. I hope that you are not entangled with that one.”
“Oh?” Emmeline gave him a curious look.
Lord Gorham nodded. His face pinched in a way that was wholly unattractive. “Lord Torrington is a bit of a brute when it comes to his business practises. I can only imagine how he would take to his husbandly duties.”
Emmeline suddenly very much did not want to dance with him any longer. It was such a vile thing to say, even if it had come from a place of concern, and Emmeline was not sure that it had. “I am sorry. I feel I must sit down.” She pulled herself out of the man’s arms.
Lord Gorham followed her, concern etched on his face. “I should not have said that to such a delicate thing as you. I forget that women can be volatile.”
Emmeline waved off the man’s words, which were only making her like him less with every single syllable. “Lord Gorham, I hold no ill against you, so please do not take this the wrong way. I wish to be alone.”
He seemed to take an eon to register what she had said. When he finally realised that she was dismissing him, he left with his face red and more than a little flummoxed, although he tried to save face by bowing to her. Emmeline watched him go with disgust.
She sank down into one of the padded chairs. Lord Torrington came over. “Are you quite well? Did that lout upset you?”
“Oh, he was just a horrible man. Mostly he just said things about you, but I could not stand to dance with someone who held such little regard for women. Honestly, is that what all Englishmen think of their women?” Emmeline shook her head in disbelief as she sat clutching her hands in her lap.
The duke dropped down into the seat beside her. “Where is your chaperone?”
“Harcourt is right there,” Emmeline waved her hand over to her brother, who stood with a drink talking with an older gentleman. “I do not know where Francesca got to.”
Lord Torrington chuckled. “She is probably trying to ensnare a husband. Speaking of which, do not take that blowhard Gorham to heart. He is not a representative of the whole of society. Try a younger lord.”
“I cannot just walk up to someone and ask him to dance, Lord Torrington,” Emmeline reminded him.
He smirked, which made him appear a good deal younger than his twenty-five years. “I do not think that will be a problem. Remember to save your dances for only the men you actually find interesting.”
Emmeline took a deep breath. “I shall try to remember that. I hope your trust in me is well-placed because I suddenly feel very out of my element, Your Grace.”
“I had better go before I scare off all your would-be suitors.” He stood and gave her a bow before returning to his cohorts.
Emmeline sat for a time before she got up and wandered off toward the refreshment table, where she ran into Francesca. It was nice to have someone to stand with even if Francesca seemed a bit put out. As they stood there, a younger gentleman approached them.
“Lady Callum,” he said with a smile to Emmeline. “I was wondering if you had a spot free on your dance card?”
She gave him a smile. “I do, but I fear that we have not been formally introduced.”
“Oh, I am acquainted with Lord Torrington. Balls are for being social, and I thought it a fine time to come and see what had Lord Torrington captivated enough that he actually graced the dance floor.” He shook his head. “Forgive my rambling tongue. I am Edward Hawley, Earl of Granton.”
Emmeline curtseyed to him. “It is good to meet you, Your Lordship.”
“And I you, Lady Callum. Now, about that dance,” he said with a boyish grin.
Emmeline fought to keep herself from smiling too much at the man’s forthright manner. He was straight to the point, but not rude. “I do believe I am free.”
Lord Hawley bowed his head to her. She accompanied him onto the floor where the dance was just beginning anew. “Do you dance often?”
“I grew up dancing at balls,” Emmeline said as they took their places. “I especially like the old country dances, but they seem to have fallen out of favour here.”
“There are still some balls that have them. I expect our master of ceremonies here to throw some toward the end. The Baron of Mallory loves his traditional dances, but there are those who do not know the steps.”
“I know the steps and would gladly participate, but we have not been assigned places, so I would assume that does not bode well for the chances of an event such as that happening.” Emmeline lifted her shoulders gently in the soft tinted muslin dress she had decided to wear due to the party being outside.
To her surprise, Lord Hawley chuckled. “That is right. Here I am proven a fool. In one sentence you have shown that there will likely be no such dances tonight.”
“It is good to hope, Your Lordship,” Emmeline said quickly to reassure him.
