“Ibeg your pardon,” Edward whispered hoarsely, and they crossed over withthe next couple in the row. Far from granting him pardon, she wanted tothank him.
Shedid not make another mistake for the rest of the dance. When Mr. EdwardWilde asked for the next dance as well, she accepted.
Proprietydictated that for the third dance he move to a new partner, andElizabeth politely declared that she must rest. Much of the company waswatching her as she found a chair to sit and catch her breath. Sherealized this was because she was smiling. Those in attendance hadknown her since her girlhood, and they were shocked—no, that was toostrong a word, more they were all astonishment—because she was notslouching. Might she even be enjoying herself? Because of this newgentleman? When he wasn’t dancing, Edward Wilde stalked the edges ofthe room, glaring at any who dared look at him, until the light-hairedbrother touched his arm and brought him back to himself.
Themusic ended, and Elizabeth looked up from her seat to find Mr.Wilde—the dark-haired Wilde, Edward—and Amy approaching.
Hesaid, “MissBrannock asked me to escort her to sit beside her best friend, so herewe are. Might I be so bold as to bring you both refreshment?”
“Ohyes, please, that would be lovely,” Amy said, patting Elizabeth’swrist. “Wouldn’t it, Beth?”
“Ohyes,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you.”
Mr.Wilde made a bow and went away.
Amytook both of Elizabeth’s hands in her own and gave her a smile largeenough to knock her over. “Well?”
Elizabethbit her lip. “Well what?”
“Whatdo you think of Mr. Wilde?” she said with mock frustration.
“Whichone?”
“Oh,Elizabeth!”
“Heis very kind.”
Amyseemed to be nonplussed at this. “I will take that to mean you likehim.”
Theyhad to leave off then, because Mr. Wilde returned—along with hisbrother, Mr. Wilde. This could become quite confusing, Elizabethreflected. She couldn’t tell by looking who was eldest. They seemed ofan age.
Thebrothers had brought them glasses of punch, and Francis drew Amy offfor a conversation—intentionally, Elizabeth was sure, leaving her withEdward Wilde seated attentively beside her. Francis Wilde offered asmile that was not entirely as kind as his brother’s.
Shemade herself sit very straight and proper.
“Howdo you like the ball, Miss Weston?” Edward Wilde asked in a way thatsuggested he had practiced this question as a crutch for politeconversation. He was looking about warily as if he expected someone toleap at him.
“Ilike it very well,” Elizabeth said, and meant it, for once. “And you? Imean—you are new to the neighborhood, it must be quite overwhelmingmeeting so many people. How do you find it all?”
“Ibelieve I find it quite agreeable. I’m not often comfortable ingatherings such as this,” he said. “So many . . . people in such aclose space.”
Wouldthat she could stop blushing. “I understand—about gatherings, thatis. They can be very trying. Especially—well. It would all be so mucheasier if I liked balls and assemblies as much as Amy—MissBrannock—does.”
“Easier?”
Shepressed her lips in a sad smile. “At my age I am supposed to be seekingcompanionship, not avoiding it. And yet, I feel most at ease when I amalone. I am told this will not do for a young lady.” His frank interestwas startling her into honesty when she should have kept quiet. Sherarely talked so much.
“Thematrons throw their sons at you in hopes of forming an attachment. Ido see how that could be tiring.”
Shelaughed; the sound startled her, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Ihad three marriage proposals before I turned eighteen. I was able toput them off by claiming my youth, but that excuse no longer serves.”
“Youare one of those romantic girls who wants to marry for love.” The jestwas meant kindly. His smile was conspiratorial.
“Iwant to marry for trust, Mr. Wilde. Fortrust.” She lowered her gaze.
Helooked thoughtful. “I think I understand you.” And he did.
Herwords had sparked his appreciation.
“Ibeg your pardon,” she said, blushing so fiercely she thought she mustfaint. “I speak far too freely.”
“Youdo me a great compliment by speaking freely. Thank you.”
Shewas surethat he could hear her heart beating faster. Again, heput her in mind of a hawk—or perhaps a fox.
Becauseshe had said far too much already, she added, “Mr. Wilde, if you arenot comfortable in places like this, why tolerate it? You can dowhatever you like. You aren’t expected to come to assemblies and makea good show of it. You can run free in the woods if you like, andpeople would merely think you eccentric—”
Helooked at her with something like shock, as if she had uncovered somedeep truth. She couldn’t see the truth itself, only that she hadexposed him. She fell quiet because, obviously, she kept saying thewrong thing. His thoughts turned chagrined—he had been working veryhard to hide his discomfort, she realized. She had exposed him, andnow she was sorry for it.
“Mybrothers and I,” he said, taking a steadying breath, “decided we wouldlike to come in from the woods. There are . . . attractions to drawingrooms and assemblies.”
Shefelt a great welling of desire, and could not tell if it came from him,or from her.
“Edward!My goodness, but people will talk, with you dominating this pooryoung lady’s attentions!” Francis Wilde came over and taunted hisbrother. Elizabeth couldn’t see where Amy had gone to.
Shestarted to say that no, Edward wasn’t a bother at all, and then excuseherself to find her friend, but Edward bristled. An emotion that washalf annoyance poured from him—the other half was anger. He rose andfaced the other. “Francis. Do not interrupt where you’re not wanted.”
“I’msaving you. No—I correct myself. I’m savingthe lady from you. From the gossip you willincite.” He bowed at her, and his smile was mischievous.
Shewanted to smile at his playfulness, but Edward’s anger confused her.Something more than what was visible was happening here. The two menhad both stiffened, and their glares held challenges.
“Youare provoking me, sir,” Edward said, his voice constrained.
Francisblinked a moment in apparent surprise. “Yes, perhaps I am. And how areyou getting on with that?”
Thetwo brothers glared at one another, their expressions fierce.
“MissWeston, you must pardon
