Page 110 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

She looked up at him, her expression suddenly serious. ‘Your sister-in-law was ever so kind to me after you left. I was like a ship adrift, unsure of what was expected of me or even how to act. She took me in, cocooned me in love, gave me a safe space to grow and discover myself and then urged me to fly once I was ready.’

‘Maria is a good woman.’

‘The very best,’ Lady Westcroft said, strong emotion in her voice. ‘When I said I would like to come to London, to look at doing some charitable work and step into society, she ensured I would not make a fool of myself. She taught me how to address people and how to walk into a room with confidence, and we spent many hours twirling round the drawing room, practising dancing, trying not to trip over one of the girls.’

Simon felt a stab of guilt. He should have been the one who guided his new wife through her début in London society; instead, he hadn’t even considered it might be somewhere she would want to be.

‘I can just imagine it,’ he said and to his relief found she was smiling.

‘It has been quite the strangest year of my life,’ she said quietly, ‘but I have learned so much and met so many interesting people.’

‘I am glad. Tell me, Lady Westcroft, how did you manage to get these people to accept you?’

‘With my rough edges and crude country manners?’

He quickly started to deny that was what he meant and then saw the sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

‘You are different to what the ladies of the ton are used to.’

‘You are not wrong. Did you know when I came to London I got a summons from the palace? The Queen Charlotte herself wanted to cast her eye over me and see what sort of woman you had chosen to be your countess.’

‘That cannot have been easy.’

‘I almost turned tail and ran all the way back to Northumberland to hide in my childhood bedroom.’

‘Yet you stayed. You faced the queen and claimed your place in society.’

‘I think her approval helped me greatly. Once she had declared me a darling of the ton, everyone wanted to get to know the surprise countess.’ She gave a little shake of her head as if remembering the day she had been called to the palace. ‘That is not to say that I was confident when I was led down the long corridors to meet the queen. My knees actually knocked together whilst I waited outside to be summoned into her presence.’

‘She is a formidable lady,’ Simon murmured. ‘I am impressed, Lady Westcroft.’

His wife pulled a face and leaned in closer, allowing him to catch a hint of an alluring scent, a mixture of lavender and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

‘I know there is a great expectation that we address one another formally, but at least in private might you call me Alice? There are three Lady Westcrofts in your family at present, and it gets a little tedious for ever trying to work out who everyone is referring to.’

‘Alice,’ he said, pleased to be rid of the formality. ‘And you should call me Simon.’

‘Thank you.’

The music swelled and died away, and they came to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. He bowed and she curtsied, and for a long moment he stared into her eyes. There was something mesmerising about the blue of her eyes, and the spell was only broken when she looked away. He had been going to suggest they take a little refreshment together, perhaps step out of the ballroom into one of the quieter areas so they could spend a little bit of the evening talking, but Alice touched his arm fleetingly and then excused herself, murmuring something about a full dance-card. She disappeared into the press of people around the perimeter of the ballroom before he could protest, leaving him standing alone.

Alice was pleased with the fast pace of the next three dances. It meant she was out of breath towards the end, but also none of her partners expected more than minor snippets of conversation in between the bursts of vigorous footwork. Her partners were all pleasant gentlemen who she had danced with before, mainly husbands of the women she knew socially or through the London Ladies’ Benevolent Society.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see her husband prowling around the room. It had been quite a surprise, his turning up this evening. She had expected him back in London in the next few days but had thought they would meet behind closed doors at the townhouse, not at the Livingstones’ ball in front of everyone.

After they had shared a waltz, Alice had been eager to get away, hoping that if she kept herself busy and unavailable, her husband might decide to go home or, at the very least, retire to the card tables. Instead he’d watched her constantly, brushing away the attempts by other guests at engaging him in conversation. It was unnerving, and she was sure people were beginning to notice.

She wondered if she could slip away. A carriage waited somewhere outside to take her home once the evening had concluded, but the way Simon was watching her, he would follow her out and suggest they share the carriage home. He was eager to talk, to discuss their future, she could tell by the nervous energy about him, but she needed a little time to compose herself first.

He caught her eye for a second, and she felt a spark travel through her before she quickly looked away. This was the problem. Simon had returned to London eager to work out how they would live their lives married but very much separate. It was what she wanted too, to continue to build the success of her charitable work, to find her place in society and enjoy her life in a way she had never been allowed to before this past year. Yet when he stepped close to her, when he looked at her with those brilliant blue eyes, all she could think of was kissing him. It was as if she were swept back to the Midsummer’s Eve ball all over again and they were recklessly running through the garden hand in hand. Whenever he came close she felt her heart hammer in her chest, and she got an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

It was highly inconvenient for many reasons, not least because he clearly didn’t think of her as anything more than a relative he was responsible for, someone a little troublesome who had been foisted upon him.

She broke eye contact, quickly looking away and trying to work out if there was a way to escape without him seeing her. She hesitated for just a moment too long, and as she stepped away from the dance floor her husband was at her side.

‘I do not think there is any more dancing for a while,’ he said.

‘That is a shame,’ she murmured and caught his raised eyebrow. She had to remind herself her husband was an intelligent man and probably had worked out she was trying to avoid him.