Название: A Most Improper Proposal
Автор: Molly Wishlade Ann
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9781474008464
isbn:
‘Of course, my lord,’ James inclined his head.
‘Ah, there’s the Earl of Liverpool.’ Lord Castlereagh pointed at the prime minister. ‘I shall take my leave of you now, James.’
As the gentleman walked away, James allowed his eyes to perform another quick scan of the ballroom. He could not see Miss Adams and he wondered why she was not on the dance floor. He realised with a jolt that he wanted to see her dance, to watch as the delicate pink fabric of her dress floated around her as she waltzed across the floor, her face glowing with the exertion of the dance, not with humiliation or anger as he had previously witnessed. He wanted to see how she behaved when she relaxed and allowed that cold façade to fall away.
If it was a façade.
And if her clothes were to fall away too, then…
But what of these foolish fancies? He had been away too long and the first English rose he had laid eyes upon had captured his interest, that was all it was and he must refrain from making more of it.
In her coldness he had lost nothing. After all, the ballroom was full of delightful young ladies ‒ all of whom, he was sure, would readily return his attention. He needed no approval from a cold-hearted wench. Though he could not easily fit the idea of her being cold with the glimpse of vulnerability he had spotted. And such vulnerability might well have caused her to erect a protective layer about her person.
‘Lord Crawford?’ Lady Castlereagh had placed her hand on his arm, her close proximity causing her heavy rose perfume to wash over him. ‘Are you searching for someone?’
James shook his head before replying. ‘No, not at all, Lady Castlereagh. I was just marvelling at how popular the waltz has become at Almack’s. Why, but a few years ago, it would have caused a scandal.’
The lady chuckled in response.
‘It is true, Lord Crawford but we must move with the times. Though we like to avoid any whiff of a scandal here at Almack’s, we must maintain our reputation as a fashionable establishment, and currently the waltz is fashionable. Now, look at my husband.’
James did as she bade him and saw that Lord Castlereagh was deep in conversation with the Earl of Liverpool. The two politicians stood so close that their heads almost touched and whatever topic they were discussing clearly had them impassioned.
‘He will be there for hours debating how best to conquer America or at least how to improve the trade routes. Let us take a turn around the room so that you can become reacquainted with our members and we can have a little tête-à-tête, for so much has happened in your absence.’
James allowed the lady to take his arm and watched as she smiled at her husband before they set off. The look that passed between the Castlereaghs made his heart lurch; it bore the understanding of a married couple secure in their relationship, in their mutual understanding and their knowledge of each other. He was not a close acquaintance of theirs but having known them for some time, he knew that they were devoted to one another. Though they had no children of their own, there was a bond between them that James could not fathom, and he envied their closeness as he witnessed it from his own island of isolation. It had been so long since he had been warmed by tenderness.
‘My dear James,’ Lady Castlereagh spoke quietly as they strolled round the perimeter of the ballroom. ‘You have been away for a long time.’
‘Indeed I have.’
‘What is it… five years?’
‘Yes, Lady Castlereagh.’
‘Come now, James, call me by my Christian name.’ She glanced at him then looked away again, smiling and waving at acquaintances.
‘Of course, Amelia.’
‘You left following such tragedy.’ She turned back to him and squeezed his arm gently.
James inclined his head, well aware that the lady was trying to encourage him to provide her with more details. He felt the old pain rising in his throat.
‘I never had the opportunity to express my sympathy, James.’
He raised his eyes to her face and found only sincerity.
‘Thank you.’ He cleared his throat.
‘To lose as much as you did in such a short space of time is dreadful. I am sure that your grief was overwhelming.’
‘It was, Amelia. But time heals.’ He bit his tongue at the old adage.
‘Of course, James. Of course it does.’ She nodded vigorously.
James registered her desire to convince herself, suspecting that she grieved still for her own lack of offspring.
They strolled the perimeter of the room and James listened to the powerful lady’s stories about the social movements amongst le bon ton and the recent births, deaths and marriages. It seemed that the lady had a detailed érésumé of everyone in the room, in London and mayhap all of England. He allowed her to regale him with her gossip in order to try to forget, for a moment, his own sad past.
‘See there, James.’ Lady Castlereagh waved her fan in the direction of a small circle of ladies and rose onto her toes to whisper into his ear. ‘That is Sophia Dubochet, formerly a courtesan and now married to Baron Berwick.’
‘I see.’ James replied, amused at her dramatic behaviour.
‘They say that, prior to their wedding two years ago, Miss Dubochet used certain methods of seduction to encourage his proposal… and the gentleman appears completely besotted.’
James shrugged. It happened. Love was not always selective when it came to a target.
‘When they married, he was forty-two and she was just fifteen.’
‘Well, if they both have what they wanted’ ‒ James whispered as he glanced at the pretty girl ‒ ‘then does it matter?’
Lady Castlereagh sniffed her disapproval at his refusal to be drawn into her gossip. She clearly wanted his opinion to be more condemning and less accepting. They continued their walk and she made several formal introductions, much to James’ discomfort, for as soon as his eligibility was evident, he could feel the matriarchs closing in around him, willing him to notice their daughters and to claim them for a dance. Thankfully, Amelia kept him close and made it clear that he was her companion and that he would not be dancing for the foreseeable future.
Nearing the end of their circle, she turned to James and asked, ‘So, did you see anything of interest?’
James met her eyes above the edge of her fluttering fan. ‘Why Amelia, are you trying to find me a bride?’ He could not be angry with her, even when she was so keen to cast aspersions on others. It was just her way, the way she had been brought up and the manner in which most ladies of her acquaintance behaved. Why should he hope to find her any different?
‘No James,’ she laughed, ‘I merely thought to see if I could spark your interest. You are, after all, eligible.’
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