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Chapter 4.4
Maribella stifled a wistful sigh and smiled brightly at the earnest young man who was guiding her around the floor in yet another interminable waltz. It had taken only a few days of the Season proper for her to sort through her prospective suitors. And come to the unhappy conclusion that none matched her requirements. The lads were too young, the men too old. There seemed to be no one in between. Presumably many were away with Wellington’s forces, but surely there were those who could not leave the important business of keeping England running? And surely not all of them were old? She could not describe her ideal Amman, yet was sure she would instantly know when she met him. She was convinced she would feel it, like a thunderbolt from the blue. Yet no make of her acquaintance increase her heartbeat one iota.
Keeping a steady and inconsequential c
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Felix slowly passed through the throng, stopping here and there to chat with acquaintances, his intended goal his aunt, sitting in a blaze of glorious purple on a chaise by the side of the room. But before he had reached her, a hand on his arm drew him around to face the sharp features of Clara Portland. “Your Grace! It’s been such an age since we’ve ...talked.” Her ladyship’s brown eyes quizzed him playfully. Her arch tone irritated Felix. It was on the tip of his tongue to recommend she took lessons in flirting from Maribella before she tried her tricks on him. Instead, he took her hand from his sleeve, bowed over it and pointedly returned to her, “As you’re doubtless aware, Clara, I have other claims on my time.”
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“Count me out.” Daniel Hammington threw his cards on the table and pushed back his chair. None of the other players was surprised to see him leave. Normally an excellent player, tonight his lordship has clearly had his mind elsewhere. And the brandy he had drunk was hardly calculated to improve matters, although his gait, as he headed for the ballroom, was perfectly steady. In the ballroom, Daniel paused to glance about. He saw the musicians tuning up and then sighted his prey. Almost as if she sensed his approach, Sophia turned as he came up to her. The look of sudden wariness that came into her large eyes pricked his conscience and, consequently, his temper. “My dance, I think.”
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A stone terrace extended along the side of the house, the balustrade broken here and there by steps leading down to the gardens. Flambeaux places in brackets along the walls three flickering light down into the avenues and any number of couples could be seen, walking and talking quietly amid the greenery. Unhurriedly, Daniel led her to the end of the terrace and then down the steps into a deserted walk. They both breathed in the heady freshness of the night air, calming their disordered senses and, without the need to exchange words, each drew some measure of comfort from each other’s presence. At the end of the path, a secluded summer-house stood, white paintwork showing clearly against the black shadows of the shrubbery behind it. As Daniel had hoped, the summer-house
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Relieved to find she was not crying, as he had thought, Daniel immediately caught her hand to prevent her flying from him again. Stung by the shock his touch always gave her, intensified now, she was annoyed to discover, Sophia tried to pull her hand away. When he refused to let her go, she said, her voice infused with an iciness designed to freeze, “Kindly release me, Lord Daniel.” On hearing her voice, Daniel placed the emotion that was holding her so rigid. The knowledge that she was angry, nay, furious, did nothing to improve his own temper, stirred to life by her abrupt flight. Forcing his voice to a reasonableness he was far from the feeling, he said, “If you’ll give me your word you’ll not run away from me, I’ll release you.”
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