difficulty setting his mind on a particular woman to take as his wife. Perhaps it was time to examine marriage in a different light entirely.
With Dorothea Ellingham? Carter smiled. She was a different sort of female and he had always been attracted to the unconventional. How else would one explain his close, long-standing friendship with Benton and Dawson, two men nearly diametrically opposed in everything from attitude to temperament?
Miss Ellingham’s idea of a passionate marriage without the complications of love made the wedded state a very enticing arrangement. Pleased at the discovery of this revelation, Carter turned from the garden path and began walking back to the ballroom.
Yes, an adjustment to his attitude and thinking about marriage could very well be the answer he needed. His mind examined and expanded the idea over and over in his head, and Carter became convinced that a union with the lovely Dorothea could be a most agreeable one indeed.
Dorothea slipped into the ballroom unnoticed, dreading the continuation of the ball. She had succeeded in making a perfect ninny of herself this evening, first with Lord Rosen and then with the marquess. And now she would be forced to paste on a delighted smile for the guests and pretend that everything was as it should be and she was having a wonderful time.
Fortunately the next dance was promised to Mr. Browning. He was a pleasant man of modest property and spare conversation. He was also a confident, skillful dancer, which allowed Dorothea to forgo the necessity of establishing a polite dialogue. All she need do was follow his lead and let her mind wander back to the conversation with the marquess.
She had been brutally honest when she told Lord Atwood she was not searching for a man to fall in love with or trying to make one fall in love with her. Marriage was too serious a business, too important a decision to be trusted to a fickle heart.
Years ago she had decided how she would approach this most momentous, pivotal moment in her life. To select a husband, she would use her head, her common sense, and as her final test, a kiss. With those factors neatly aligned, Dorothea firmly believed the possibility of love between her and her future husband would exist.
For her, the mere possibility of love would be enough to enter into the marriage. And if love did not materialize, she would survive. She would not become bitter, or angry or resentful. She would make the most of her life, no matter what the circumstances.
“Punch, Miss Ellingham?”
Startled out of her reflections, Dorothea blinked up at Mr. Browning. “That would be lovely,” she answered with a guilty smile.
He scuttled off to retrieve her punch. But solitude was denied her. Mere seconds after Mr. Browning disappeared, Sir Perry arrived at her side. Dorothea took a deep breath, willing herself to endure his painful conversation with a pleasant expression.
Mr. Browning returned. Dorothea sipped her punch, nodded with feigned interest at Sir Perry’s prattle, then gratefully escaped when the next gentleman presented himself to claim his dance.
And so it went for the next few hours.
Though she tried to control the impulse, Dorothea found herself searching the room for Lord Atwood at the end of each dance. And each time she found him, their eyes met, for he made no effort to conceal the fact that he was watching for her as well.
Why then did he not approach her and ask for a dance? Surely her eclectic circle of admirers did not intimidate him. Lord Atwood hardly seemed the type of man who worried about competition. No, he was a bold man, who more than likely took what he wanted.
Pity he did not want her. Or her wanton inclinations. Dorothea groaned, still not believing she had been so idiotic as to reveal them. He no doubt thought her a female of loose morals, unfit to one day be a duchess.
“Goodness, I hope that frown on your face is not from displeasure,” Lady Meredith said, catching Dorothea in a rare moment alone. She put her arm through Dorothea’s and the two women began a circle of the ballroom.
Dorothea tried to smile. Lady Meredith had worked very hard to ensure the success of the ball. Dorothea would not have her believe her efforts were not appreciated.
“I’m just tired,” Dorothea answered. “And a bit overwhelmed by all this grandeur.”
Lady Meredith patted Dorothea’s hand. “Naturally you are feeling fatigued. I think you’ve danced with nearly every bachelor here.”
“Almost every one,” Dorothea answered. She spied Lord Atwood across the room. He was speaking with Major Roddington and another gentleman whose name she could not remember. The trio turned and greeted a fourth man and then the group started toward the open doorway. Obviously, they were leaving. Dorothea sighed.
Lady Meredith glanced at Dorothea, then her eyes quickly traveled to where Dorothea was so boldly staring. “Hmm, I cannot even begin to speculate as to which of those four gentlemen brought about that weary reaction,” Lady Meredith whispered.
Dorothea shook her head, not even trying to disguise her interest. It hardly mattered if Lady Meredith knew of her infatuation with Lord Atwood. It would come to naught.
“Before you married Lord Dardington, did you ever say something to a gentleman that you regretted?” Dorothea asked.
“All the time.” Lady Meredith’s blue eyes sparkled. “Though truthfully, there were not an overabundance of opportunities for me to converse with gentlemen. You see, I was something of a social misfit.”
“You?” Dorothea could not believe such a poised, confident woman like Lady Meredith had ever stumbled in society.
“Oh, yes. I was quite the disaster. My family being known for its eccentricities was not much of a help either. I had no particular interest in marriage and made no bones about it. I was too concerned with keeping my wild twin brothers out of harm’s way and indulging my secret passion.”
“You had a secret passion?” Dorothea glanced over her shoulder to ensure that no one was close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Does Lord Dardington know of it?”
“He does. And while he does not strictly approve of it, he knows he cannot stop me, and thus I still indulge in it today.”
Dorothea’s mouth gaped open and her gaze slid away. “I would not have expected Lord Dardington to be so tolerant.”
Lady Meredith ceased walking and cocked her head, visibly surprised. “Why, Dorothea Ellingham, you have a sinful mind!”
“Please, I meant no offense.”
“None was taken.” Lady Meredith tapped her fan against Dorothea’s wrist and smiled. “My secret passion has nothing to do with a lover, so turn that thought right out of your head. Trevor is the only man who shares my heart, and my bed.”
“I did not mean to imply…that is to say, I was not seeking to judge you, Lady Meredith.” Dorothea’s cheeks flushed with color. Lord, what was wrong with her tonight? It seemed that every innocent conversation she began quickly turned scandalous.
“I assure you there is no need to look so stricken. I suppose it was a natural assumption to conclude my secret passion includes a man. That is true, to a small extent, for a man is involved. A man of business.” Lady Meredith smiled with amusement. “My secret passion is finance, Dorothea. I have a talent and an ambition for making money.”
“Oh.” Dorothea slowly let out the breath she had been holding. Despite her skepticism regarding love and marriage, she did appreciate the unique relations that certain couples shared. It was therefore an odd relief to be able to once again believe in the genuine love that Lady Meredith shared with her husband.
“It’s no small skill and, if you will allow me to be boastful for a moment, making money through investments is something that I am very good at doing,” Lady Meredith said. “But my talents are neither understood nor welcomed by those in society. ’Tis bad enough when a gentleman shows too must interest in his affairs of business, but a woman with financial intellect and insight.” Lady Meredith shuddered. “’Tis thought to be unnatural.”
Dorothea huffed with indignity. “We have brains, why must we hide them?”
Lady Meredith shrugged. “I believe that the majority of gentlemen are made very uneasy at the thought of a woman’s intellect. Why else are those women who enjoy an intellectual discourse mockingly labeled as
