Page 41 of A Wish for Father Christmas

Chapter 13

Isaac danced with Miss Dowding,then Miss Turner. After, he danced with a couple other ladies. But they all quickly began to blur together. Though he greatly enjoyed a fine Christmas dance, as before, he never truly lost sight of Lady Nightingale. He was aware when she finished her dance with Lord Sempill. He knew when she’d taken the dancefloor with a man unfamiliar to him. He felt drawn to the table of mulled cider when she made her way there.

Of a truth, his feet carried him closer to her without his consent.

Isaac stood at one end of the long table, while Lady Nightingale picked up a glass from the other. She took a small sip then momentarily placed a hand against her forehead. Isaac wasn’t looking at her straight on, more just watching her out of the corner of his eye. Which, now that he thought about it, was quite an ungentlemanly thing to do. Still, he couldn’t deny that she looked...tired. Possibly even worried.

Neither of those emotions had he come to associate with Lady Nightingale. She always seemed bright, cheerful, vibrant.

She took another swallow but didn’t move away from the table. Indeed, she appeared to be closing her eyes for a moment, her brow creased.

The music of the current dance came to an end. There was a smattering of claps, and the swell of voices grew. The next set would start soon. Isaac had promised Miss Dowding a second dance tonight, and now that he’d danced with a few other women, this set would suit well. Only, he couldn’t seem to walk away. Something deep inside his gut wouldn’t let him leave Lady Nightingale on her own, not when she appeared distressed.

Perhaps he should ask her to dance?

He felt both repulsed...and strangely thrilled at the notion. Isaac subtly shook his head at himself. He wasn’t about to dance with the daughter of the man who had nearly ruined him. But he wasn’t a cad either. He wouldn’t turn his back if there was a chance he could help her in her time of need. Standing tall, he covered the small distance between them. He would ask after her welfare and that was all. Most likely, he was wrong, and she was completely fine and the conversation between them would be over in enough time for him to find Miss Dowding before the next set.

“Lady Nightingale,” he said, drawing near her.

She gave a little start, her eyes flying open and her glass nearly tipping.

“Lord Brooks.” She quickly recovered, giving him a curtsy. She faced him fully as she stood. Was he seeing things that weren’t there? Or were her eyes a bit red-rimmed? Her smile a tad less joyful?

“Pardon my frankness, my lady...” Now that he was standing before her, he felt far less certain about how to proceed. It wasn’t exactly good manners to point out that a woman appeared tired or drawn. “Only, I wanted to ask after your health.”

Now who sounded overly polite and far from sincere?

“I am quite well, thank you.”

He wasn’t surprised by her answer. But he was surprised that she turned away from him, seeming to end the conversation.

But her shoulders were a bit slumped, her jaw tighter than usual. Still, Isaac was interested in pursuing a relationship withMiss Dowding, or, if she wouldn’t have him, any number ofotherladies both here and in London. He shouldn’t be growing so very familiar with Lady Nightingale. He shouldn’t know her posture so well as to see the small differences between how she normally held herself and how she seemed to sag tonight. He shouldn’t know that the spark which normally lighted her eyes was missing now.

He shouldn’t.

But hang it all, he did.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to leave her until he knew why, or at least tried to lift her spirits in some way.

“Do you care to dance?” he asked.

Her eyes grew wide momentarily, but she quickly looked away. “Thank you, but no. I’ve danced nearly all I care to for one night.”

Yes, he’d seen her stand up nearly every set.

Lady Nightingale placed her cup back down and tugged her gloves more firmly into place, “I think I shall step out into the corridor for a moment. Good evening, Lord Brooks.”

It was a dismissal if ever he’d heard one. Yet, as she turned and walked away, Isaac hurried and caught up.

“Shall I accompany you, then?”

Her surprise returned as her step slowed. “Oh...very well, then.”

Side by side, they moved across the room and out a set of open doors. The corridor was not nearly so packed as the ballroom itself. Lady Nightingale seemed to sigh with relief as they moved yet farther away from the crush.

“You look tired, my lady,” Isaac found himself saying. “Or, perhaps worried?” He hoped she’d hear his sincere desire to help in his voice.

Her lips ticked up on one side in a half smile. “When you said I ought to pardon your frankness, you apparently weren’t jesting.”

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