Page 5 of Beth: A Regency Romance Novell

Beth felt a blush heat her cheeks, she could barely believe how she was behaving. Her shyness had dropped away. “I grew up with four brothers.”

“Ah. I understand. Their names?”

“Jarred is the eldest he’s almost thirty. He works at the Inns of Court here in London and hopes to become a barrister. Colin is twenty-five and in the navy. Charlie is seventeen and away at Eton, and Edmond is thirteen and is tutored by my father in York. And then there are my sisters, Jenny, of course, and Arabella.”

“I envy you your family. I have no siblings. I should like to hear more about them. May I beg the supper dance? I would like the privilege of taking you into supper.”

She felt ridiculously pleased at the thought of dancing with him again. “Certainly. I shall look forward

to it, Mr. Nyeland.”

He placed a hand lightly over hers where it rested on his arm as he escorted her to her chair. “As will I.”

They stood before the two empty chairs. “Mrs. Grayshott must be engaged with friends. I dislike leaving you here alone.”

“I can hardly come to grief in Countess Wallington’s ballroom.” Beth smiled up at him. “Or do you feel I’m in danger, sir?”

“Only from a boring windbag, or a gentleman who seeks to kiss you in the garden, but I have confidence in your discernment, Miss Harrismith. Until the supper dance then.” He was laughing as he turned away.

Beth watched him walk through the crowd with that long confident stride, his hair gleaming ebony black in the light cast from the chandeliers. Such a pull of attraction was quite new to her. They were to dance again. She may not succumb so readily to his charm at their second meeting, but she rather doubted it.

Beth sat down to wait for Mrs. Grayshott and stared about her. Neither the woman nor her daughter were within sight.

As the minutes passed and there was no sign of her chaperone, Beth, searching the guests, grew quite annoyed at being abandoned in such a fashion. Where was Phillida? She had not spied her on the dance floor, but that was not surprising as there were several sets, the dancers standing around chatting, awaiting their turn. Might she be somewhere with her mother? But what would take them away from the ballroom?

Fearing she would sit out more dances, Beth was forced to leave her chair to go in search of the lady. But she had only taken a few steps when a gentleman approached her.

“Lord Ramsey, Miss Harrismith. I’ve come in the hope that you will accept my hand for the quadrille.”

He bowed. Flummoxed, Beth curtsied while she wondered what to do.

“My chaperone is away at present, my lord.” Beth swept her eyes over the guests again. “I’m afraid I must wait the lady’s return.”

“Ah, but there is no need.” He gestured to the row of tall French windows at the far end of the ballroom. “Mrs. Grayshott is deep in discussion with my sister and has sent me to address you.”

How different was Lord Ramsey to Mr. Nyeland who, although well dressed, had none of the dandy about him. This gentleman was fair, his hair curled onto his forehead in a Brutus, his cravat tied in a masterly design. His green coat tailcoat matched his eyes, making her wonder if that had been deliberate.

Beth stood on tiptoe searching for her chaperone over the heads of the guests. Impossible, there were too many people milling about, and Mrs. Grayshott was not tall. Beth was quite shocked at the lady’s treatment. It did not seem to be the thing to go off and leave her charge in such a cavalier fashion. Not when importuned by the duke to take care of her. But Beth knew too little about the ways things were done to question it. The gentleman waited, smiling for her answer.

“Yes, I will dance with you, sir.” She took his arm.

They joined a set. Lord Ramsey smiled benignly at her. She was struck by how unlike Mr. Nyeland he was in his manner. He did not flirt with her, or indeed attempt to draw her into conversation. He danced with studied grace, and wishing to deport herself well, gave herself up to it.

“Sadly, this must be my last dance, for I am about to depart for Windsor,” Lord Ramsey said.

When he returned Beth to her chair, Mrs. Grayshott was still not in her seat. Beth bit her lip in consternation.

“It appears that Mrs. Grayshott is still with my sister,” Ramsey said looking shamefaced.

As he should be, Beth thought. It was appallingly bad mannered of his sister and Mrs. Grayshott. “I see I shall have to go and find her,” Beth began, as a footman approached them. He held out a letter to her. “This has come for you, Miss Harrismith.”

“This is for me?” Beth expected the note to be from her absent chaperone. Unfolding it, she scanned it quickly while his lordship politely waited. Shocked, she reread the rushed missive from Andrew with growing anxiety. “This concerns my sister. She is injured, a carriage accident. They are at an address in Twickenham.” She turned to the footman her heart beating fast. “Who brought this letter? Is there a carriage waiting to take me there?”

“No, miss.” He shook his head slightly mystified. “The fellow left after it was handed in at the front door.”

In the brief missive, Andrew gave her no instructions. Did he wish her to wait until further word was sent? She couldn’t. She turned to Lord Ramsey who remained at her side. “I must go to my sister.” She gazed around wildly but could see no sign of Mrs. Grayshott or her daughter. Nor was their hostess within sight.

Beth rushed back to her chair, snatched up her shawl and reticule, and hurried through the crowd with his lordship keeping pace with her. “Where on earth have they got to?” she murmured. “I must hire a chaise.”

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