Her steps faltered again. Nellie shrugged apologetically at her partner.
“You have good reason to be distracted,” Lord Beauchamp said with an understanding smile.
“How kind, sir. I shall endeavor not to stand on your toes,” she said with a laugh.
She was floating, feeling outrageous and so unlike herself. She’d begun to fear she would never be quite herself again.
Even her Aunt Bea, who rarely ventured out of her house these days, had come tonight. Nellie had watched when her father introduced Charles to her aunt. Charles had sat and talked to her for several minutes. She had listened intently and nodded with a thoughtful expression. Charles could converse on any level. And when he spoke, people listened. It might be expected of a duke, but it was also a gift he had that she approved of.
When the dance concluded, Nellie made her way to her aunt, where she sat holding up her pince-nez, observing the guests with a jaundiced eye.
“My dear, Cornelia.” Aunt Bea smiled as Nellie kissed her papery cheek and took the spare chair beside her. “I have met your fiancé.”
Lady Beatrice Ralston’s branch of the family could be traced back to the signing of the Magna Carta. Bea considered few people other than royalty worthy of her respect. Even some royals were treated with the utmost contempt. George I was considered a German upstart, as were the subsequent Hanoverian kings. Nellie was careful not to mention the Prince of Wales, for she feared his latest antics would produce an apoplectic fit.
“Do you like Shewsbury, Aunt Bea?”
“I do. He gave me some very good advice about investments. He is very knowledgeable and precise. I suspect he prefers a well-ordered world. That is all very fine and good, as long as you don’t allow him to demand the same from you.” Her aunt waved her fan before her face, failing to stir the rigid curls of her gray wig. “You were a passionate child, Nellie, quick to love, and hate, too, when it was warranted. You’ve learned to temper your emotions, to be the dutiful daughter, but you haven’t changed much.” She nodded sagely. “You and the duke might be like chalk and cheese, but if you give full rein to your feelings, you’ll loosen him up. And that makes for a passionate relationship.” She patted Nellie on the cheek, the large diamonds on her gloved fingers flashing a spectrum of colors in the candlelight. “Men do like to control women. It’s extremely tedious. As if we women haven’t a reasonable thought in our heads. Makes me exceedingly glad Ralston passed away years ago.”
Nellie was used to Aunt Bea’s forthright speech, but she was also the wisest of souls. Nellie glanced over to where Charles talked to Mr. Penhurst, whose property ran with her father’s on the west boundary. Penhurst was a keen hunter. He was always out shooting. No doubt he and Charles had much in common. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her aunt was right. She and Charles were very different. She doubted he would ever fully understand her. It should not matter, and yet it did.
“Don’t stand for any nonsense.” Aunt Bea’s gray eyes brightened. “It will be a battle worth winning.”
Nellie laughed. “Thank you, darling Aunt Bea. I can always count on you for excellent advice. Shall I ask the footman to bring you a glass of lemonade? Or would you prefer coffee?”
Aunt Bea’s eyes widened. “Champagne, my girl. How do you think I’ve kept my complexion?”
Nellie rose. “I’ll give an order for a glass to be served to you, and perhaps a lobster patty? I tried one, and they are delicious.”
Her aunt nodded her approval.
As Nellie went in search of a footman, Charlotte Liddiard, her second cousin on her mother’s side of the family, intercepted her. “My felicitations, Nellie.” She raised her heavy dark eyebrows. “His Grace is the catch of the Season. In fact, he has been for the past several Seasons.”
“You make him sound like a prize trout.” Nellie smiled. “But thank you.”
Charlotte snickered. She was not one of Nellie’s favorites among her cousins. Charlotte wasn’t a happy person since the man she wanted had married someone else. Although Nellie felt sorry for her, she had witnessed how spiteful and jealous Charlotte could be. She had never been that way with Nellie. Until now, perhaps, for there was an unpleasant expression in her green eyes.
“Shewsbury is close to thirty, isn’t he?”
“I believe so.” Nellie wondered where this was leading.
She nodded with a knowing expression. “He has not sought to marry since his former fiancée was snatched from him almost at the altar. Her father wed her to a neighbor.”
“Well, he has obviously recovered,” Nellie said crisply, glancing around for a footman.
“One’s first love is always so special. Don’t you agree?”
“I don’t know. Do you?” Nellie stared at her, surprised at her rudeness. Charlotte’s mouth looked pinched. Nellie only wanted happy memories tonight. “Where are those footmen? Aunt Bea needs champagne.”
Charlotte caught her arm as she stepped around her. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The Marquess of Thorburn died. He was gored by a buck when out hunting. Drusilla is now a widow.”
“My goodness. What a horrible thing to happen. When was this?”
“News is slow to reach us in the country, is it not? The funeral was held in Northumberland several weeks ago.”
Nellie’s heart sank. “Poor, Drusilla.”
“Poor?” Charlotte laughed. “Thorburn left her rich as Croesus. She’ll wear her widow’s weeds, but I doubt that will stop her. Fanny, her personal maid, is my maid’s sister. I get to hear all the gossip. Since their marriage, Thorburn kept her in the country. Drusilla has been a virtual slave to the old man. She cannot wait to return to London.” Charlotte giggled. “Fanny said the marchioness is making a list of eligible gentlemen. She wants a virile lover until such time
