“Delightful?”
Mother’s carefully dressed curls bounced with her nod. “She’s so honest and refreshing.”
“Those aren’t the words I would have chosen,” he quipped.
“Oh?” When Mother smiled, he noticed she wasn’t a bit out of breath. For that matter, neither was he, and he no longer felt overwarm, either. “Which words come to mind?”
“Impulsive,” was his first choice. They changed direction. “Interfering. Irresponsible.”
“That’s a lot of i words,” Mother said with a rare sparkle in her eye. “Have you any more?”
“Naturally.” He grinned, enjoying this playful side of her. “Irritating, irrational, impertinent—”
“Irresistible?” she suggested slyly.
Joseph’s mouth gaped open. “Pray pardon?” Why on earth would she say such a thing?
“I saw you looking at her while the two of you danced.”
“I was not looking at her! I happen to find her insufferable.” Blast, another i word. It seemed he couldn’t stop. “Besides which, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m betrothed!”
“Hush!” Mother glanced around and dropped her voice. “Our guests might overhear.”
He hushed, since it was time to lift and and twirl her, anyway, which made it difficult for him to speak.
But she went right on ahead. “There’s a lesson to be learned from this: Mere promises cannot stop one from appreciating beauty or charm when one sees it. I’ve been a content wife for twenty-five years, yet still I’m not immune to the charms of other men. If contentment is enough, choose the woman who will always remain by your side. But if it’s happiness you seek, choose the woman who will always recapture your attention.”
Now he feared his eyes were gaping—never mind that that was physically impossible. Never in his life had he heard his mother speak this way. Evidently she fit their family motto better than he’d thought. Question Convention, indeed.
After their last twirl, she detained him with a hand on his arm. “I like Lady Chrystabel. She’s a pretty thing, and she makes me laugh. We haven’t had a lot of laughter in this house since your sisters left.” Joseph had three sisters who had all married well, thanks to the generous dowries his father had provided. He wondered if they really knew their mother. “I used to think you and your father were much alike, my dear boy. But now I see you’ve got more of me than I realized.” And with a wink, she danced off.
Joseph performed the next galliard in a daze. He couldn’t even begin turning over her surprising advice. His mother had winked at him.
When he found himself partnered with Lady Arabel, he managed to recover his wits. He cast about for a neutral topic of conversation. “Are you looking forward to living in Wales, Lady Arabel?”
“I’m trying to view it as an adventure.” She danced in a jaunty, light-footed way that matched her cheerful nature. “I just wish I knew some Welsh.”
“My father knows Welsh.” He felt absurdly relieved to engage in simple, polite chitchat. “Father knows lots of languages, actually.”
“Are languages his pastime?” Lady Arabel asked, as though she were really curious.
Joseph chuckled, remembering the discussion at supper. “I would say so. Shall I ask him if he might teach you a few words of Welsh?”
She squealed when he lifted her and twirled. “Oh, that would be marvelous!”
Marvelous words from a marvelous girl. For the first time this evening, he felt normal and like himself. Lady Arabel made him smile, while her sister made him…feel hot.
On a cold, snowy evening, Chrystabel Trevor made him feel hot.
It was an odd feeling he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t like it one bit, he decided while performing the next set of galliard steps. It wasn’t comfortable at all.
He was paired again with Creath when Watkins arrived in the great room’s main doorway and cleared his throat. “Sir Leonard is approaching, my lord!” he called over the music.
SIX
CHRYSTABEL WATCHED Creath head for the far door at a run, dodging the jumble of pushed-aside furniture as she went.
“Keep dancing!” Lord Trentingham commanded. “Lady Arabel, take Creath’s place.”
Chrystabel obeyed, and so did everyone else. Arabel stepped in as Joseph’s partner. Lord Trentingham was dancing with his wife, and Chrystabel was paired with Matthew. She couldn’t imagine what was happening, but she kept dancing, sensing it was best not to ask.
When the set finished, Lady Trentingham signaled the musicians to skip the galliard and play them through the turns once again. Chrystabel was still circling with her brother when Watkins returned and ushered a stranger into the room.
Tall with a raw-boned build and blunt blond hair, the man was in his middle years. Though his clean-shaven features seethed with anger, his blue eyes were colder than hoarfrost. “What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed.
The dancers halted as the music died away. Exchanging a frightened look with her sister, Chrystabel was grateful to see Joseph placing himself between Arabel and the stranger.
“I could have you all arrested for dancing!” the man roared into the sudden silence. Then, appearing to get himself somewhat under control, he lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “And don’t think I won’t if I find out she’s here.”
Lord Trentingham furrowed his brow. “Are you searching for someone, your worship?”
Your worship? Evidently the wilderness did have Justices of the Peace—and this vile man was one of them. No wonder Tremayne folk were reluctant to break the law. Chrystabel wouldn’t want to get on this brute’s bad side, either.
“You know who I’m searching for.” The justice’s lips twisted in a sneer—an oft-used expression, judging from the deep lines around his mouth. “My dearest cousin and betrothed, Mistress Creath Moore.”
“Good heavens, is the girl missing?” Lady Trentingham made a convincing concerned neighbor. “How long has she been gone?”
“A night and a day.” The justice advanced several threatening paces toward her. “But I’ve an inkling you already knew that, my lady.”
The earl put a protective arm around his wife. “We haven’t seen the girl, Sir Leonard,” he said in a
