Page 73 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
“Then why are there so many of them?” Emmeline looked around nervously. “Did Lord Hawley go to Lady Anderson’s group?”
Nash eyed his betrothed with an indulgent smile. She was so concerned about their good Lord Hawley that he found it endearing. Other men might have been jealous of the amount of energy she put into keeping track of another man. But Nash knew she was merely looking out for a friend.
He scanned around and swiftly found Lord Hawley safely ensconced in the table where Lord Grayson was holding court. “He is at the cards,” Nash commented, and waited for the tide of her indignation.
Sure enough Emmeline hissed with fury. “Does he not see that they would be perfect together?”
“They have said a few sentences to each other, Beloved.” Nash was careful to add the endearment behind his words to ward against her turning her ire on him.
Emmeline frowned at him momentarily before she softened and sighed. “Perhaps you are right. I cannot make them see what I see, after all.”
“True words. Now, shall you allow me to escort you to the dance floor?” He gave her a grin, which she returned with a nod of her head.
Nash certainly hoped that the errant Lord Hawley screwed up enough courage to speak to Lady Anderson, or he might not deter Emmeline from wringing the man’s neck for his stupidity. Still, he had other things to think of, and one was the lady on his arm. The feel of her as they danced put his mind squarely back on her as she smiled at him.
They danced for as long as they were able, but the need for rest and something to drink necessitated that they leave the safety of the dance floor. No sooner did they have their drinks in hand than Nash’s mother appeared. She had left them to be as she played hostess, but Nash had known it would not last.
“Mother,” Nash said, putting a smile firmly on his face.
Emmeline did not seem to have to force her smile and he had to ask her how she did that. His mother was a formidable woman, and usually one who left men quaking beneath the pressure of her stare. His mother and Dowager Randall would have been a pair to be reckoned with.
With a look of utter awe, Emmeline told Nash’s mother, “Lady Sutton, you have outdone yourself. I scarcely know where to look. Everything is so beautiful.”
“You are too kind,” his mother said, but Nash could see that she thoroughly agreed with Emmeline’s assessment. “I was just coming to ask how you two were enjoying the party, so I am gratified to find you both in good spirits. After all, this a part to celebrate your union.”
Nash thought about the union to take his mind off the fact that he still had hours of this party left. He had already ridden to see the Archbishop and had been granted a special license. Of course, his mother insisted they wait until after all the parties were given and letters received, within reason.
“Nash, did you hear what I said?”
Nash blinked. His mother was looking at him with that particular look of hers that said he was in trouble. Emmeline had a faintly amused smile on her face. “Sorry, mind must have wandered off. I have all these shipping contracts to delegate.”
“Men,” she muttered. “His father is the same. I hope you have better luck dealing with that family trait than I have.”
Emmeline giggled. “Oh, I think it will be fine, Your Ladyship.”
Nash eyed his mother as the woman smiled, a true smile, at Emmeline. She seemed to have taken a liking to Emmeline, which Nash though was a good thing, but the fact that Emmeline genuinely did not seem to loathe his mother baffled him. Emmeline was truly a jewel among women.
The night dragged on and Nash swore that the clock chimed every hour twice. Emmeline jested with him, “You look so miserable that I am tempted to set you free to see if it makes you happy again.”
“Do not dare,” Nash said sternly. “I am only surviving this because of your presence. If you leave, I would likely drown.”
That was the moment that his young brother chose to arrive, forever and probably terminally late. He burst into the ballroom with all the showmanship of a theatre-type with too much drink in him.
“Is that your brother?”
“Yes,” Nash said with a sigh. “I am shocked that Mother allowed him to come to the party. She treats him like he is still in his loose clothing, fit only for the garden.”
He came over to them with a big grin on his face. “Brother!” Nash found himself enveloped in a hug, which he returned with a laugh. “I forgot how tall you were. And this must be the lady of the hour?”
Nash nodded as he waved his hand over to his brother. “Emmeline, this is my brother Sir Ian Torrington. Ian, this is Lady Emmeline Callum.”
“Lady Callum, it is a considerable surprise and pleasure to meet you,” he said grandly.
Nash rolled his eyes at the dramatic bow his brother performed. Emmeline seemed charmed by it and regarded Master Ian the way one would a particularly pleasant youth. Nash supposed that he was a child in most senses, being still only fourteen and not yet ready to embark upon his life outside the home.
Emmeline asked, “Why is it that you greet me with surprise?”
Master Ian clasped his hands behind his back and looked pleased that she had asked. “Certainly because I never wagered that this one would settle down. He seemed rather determined not to.”
