of his final words.”

And his wink.

The set was drawing to an end. So was Angeline’s precious half hour with the Earl of Heyward. She did not doubt that it would be the last with him for this evening anyway. What a shame. How sad.

Except that the whole of the rest of the most exciting evening of her life stretched ahead. And she had the rest of her life to secure the earl’s interest and his courtship and his proposal of marriage.

“I shall return you to Lady Palmer’s side,” he said, getting to his feet and extending a hand for hers—a hand rather than an arm this time. “You will wish to be at her side for your next partner to claim you. I daresay you are eager to dance again—with someone who can dance, that is. You may set your left foot back on the floor if you wish. I suppose it is well rested by now. One hopes your right foot is feeling better.”

Oh, he had noticed. How mortifying! And he knew what she had done. But had he misunderstood her motive? Did he believe she had feigned a stumble in order to avoid having to dance with such a clumsy, wooden fellow? She could hardly ask him, could she?

“I will surely dance all evening,” she told him as she got to her feet and took his offered arm. “I shall do so because a number of gentlemen have already expressed an interest in dancing with me. And because I adore dancing, of course. But I can assure you, Lord Heyward, that I will not enjoy any other set even half as much as I have enjoyed this one.”

And how was that for blatant flirtation?

“I am delighted to have been of service to you, Lady Angeline,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Ah, he had misunderstood. And now he thought she was lying.

His hand was warm and steady beneath hers.

His cologne wrapped about her senses.

Being in love was an altogether pleasant sensation, she thought, even if bringing it to a happy conclusion was going to be the biggest challenge of her life.

Was something worth having, though, if it did not present a challenge?

Chapter 6

“I DO HOPE Lady Angeline did not seriously hurt her ankle,” Edward’s mother said after their set was over. “But she was very brave and dignified about it and very eager to remove herself from the floor so that the dancing could resume. Most young ladies would have made much of the moment and wailed and swooned and made quite a fuss before demanding to be carried off the dance floor.”

“And she is not silent and insipid as so many girls are these days, is she?” Alma added. “She engaged you in what appeared to be a lively conversation, Edward. It is important for the wife of an important man to be able to converse sensibly.”

Sensibly?

“She is beautifully tall,” Lorraine said with a sigh. “I am envious to the point of jealousy. She is actually prettier than I thought at first. I think it is in the expression more than in the features alone. She fairly sparkles. She is going to be besieged by suitors and not just because she is the sister of the Duke of Tresham.”

“Edward,” Juliana said, tapping his arm with her fan, “Mrs. Smith-Benn is making her way toward us with her daughter. The mother is the daughter of Lord Blacklock, you know.”

His life had indeed changed, Edward realized before the ball was even an hour old. Freedom and relaxation did not come as he had hoped once the opening set was at an end. For of course, he was now very eligible indeed, and this was the great marriage mart. And anyone who did not make a move now, when it was early in the Season, might find later that all the best prizes had already been snapped up. Or so he had been warned. And it worked in both directions, of course. Men were not the only ones seeking spouses.

His mother and sisters and sister-in-law did not even have to make any effort to seek other partners for him. He did not have to look dutifully about him to choose some for himself. He did not have a chance to find Eunice. Or to slink off to the card room. Young ladies, escorted by their mamas, came to court him. They came usually and apparently to speak to his female relatives, who then introduced them to him, and he did what was expected of him—he asked the young lady to dance. It was all rather alarmingly easy.

He danced the second set with Miss Smith-Benn, who was a blond, blue-eyed, delicate little beauty, the third with Miss Cartwright, a handsome brunette with slightly protruding teeth, and the fourth with Lady Fiona Robson, who smiled a great deal and was passably pretty despite the fact that she had freckles. He acquitted himself well enough on the dance floor, even if that meant only that he did not make an utter idiot of himself. And each of the three was polite enough not to feign injury in order to avoid dancing with him. None of them chattered on about charging bulls or called him stuffy when he failed to be amused at irresponsible stupidity.

Really … stuffy.

Lord Heyward, are you perhaps just a little bit stuffy?

The fact that she was right did not excuse her breach of good manners. Especially when she had preceded it with a fake injury that she could not even disguise well enough to remember which ankle she was supposed to have sprained.

It was, then, the supper dance before Edward could maneuver matters more to his own liking and find time to seek out Eunice. He did it by returning Lady Fiona to her mother’s side and then neglecting to return immediately to his family’s side. He had done his duty for long enough. He needed a break. And no one would be able to fault him. He was still in the ballroom. He was still taking a partner.

He had seen Eunice dance once. But she had spent most of the evening sitting with her aunt and conversing with a group of older ladies, all gorgeously decked out and plumed and sparkling with jewels. They all turned identical gratified expressions toward him when he approached.

“What a fine evening this is, Lord Heyward,” Lady Sanford said. “It is quite a triumph for the Duke of Tresham, who has never been known to host a ball here before, you know, despite the splendor of his ballroom. Such a waste! And Lady Angeline Dudley appears to be taking very well indeed even though she is unfortunately tall, poor lady.”

“And with a complexion one can describe only as swarthy,” Mrs. Cooper added. “Her looks would have been a severe trial to her poor dear mama had she lived.”

“We will be offending Lord Heyward,” a lady whom Edward did not know said, smiling archly at him. “He danced the opening set with Lady Angeline and perhaps has a particular interest in her.”

“I do find her quite remarkably beautiful,” he said. “However, she is not the only beautiful lady in the room. Miss Goddard, would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”

Eunice got to her feet while her aunt looked at her with triumph and the other ladies looked with interest. She set her hand along the top of his.

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