“I’m sorry. I”—she pasted a smile on her lips—“I’m having a wonderful time, or would be if I knew Lord Beresford was actually gone and not merely hidden by this crowd.”
“You may rest assured he is no longer here. I saw Lord Hawksworth take him away.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders receded. The less she had to do with any Lord Beresford, the better she’d feel.
Silvia laughed lightly at a quip her dance partner, Lord Oliver Loveridge, made about having to be careful of bumping into others. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nick Beresford glare at her, and she made a point of smiling brightly at Lord Oliver. Nick stalked out of the ballroom with another gentleman. Well, good. The cur wouldn’t be bothering either her or Vivian anymore this evening.
Silvia had never known him to press his attentions where they were not wanted. Then again, to her detriment she’d discovered she hadn’t known him well at all. And one never knew what his cousin, the previous Lord Beresford, had told Nick—probably nothing about Mrs. Raeford. Normally, Silvia would have thought he’d have known about her. He and his cousin had been close. But since Nick had left Oxford, he had been gone. Except for the month he had spent at Beresford a few years ago. A time she wished she could forget. He was still as difficult as he’d been before. Apparently the army hadn’t taught him anything except how to break the hearts of unsuspecting and trusting young ladies.
Suddenly she was jerked out of her reveries by Lord Oliver’s bored drawl. “My apologies, Miss Corbet. That oaf should not be allowed on the dance floor. He is ruining the line.” His lips formed a sneer. “One wonders how he even obtained an invitation.”
She followed Lord Oliver’s gaze to a young, slightly overweight man who’d turned a bright shade of red. The lady with him was slightly flushed, but apparently exerting a calming influence on him. How dare Lord Oliver denigrate the other gentleman in such a fashion! Handsome is as handsome does, and Lord Oliver had just lost much of his charm.
Well, she would not allow his behavior to stand in her presence. Silvia pressed her lips together. “Accidents happen, my lord. I’m quite sure he did not mean to cause a problem.”
“You are too kind.” He cut a glance at the unfortunate man.
“Not at all.” She would have pierced Lord Oliver with a look that had made men tougher than he tremble, had he been looking at her, that was. “Let he who is without sin throw the first stone.”
Lord Oliver jerked his head back to her. His eyes widened in something akin to shock. “I beg your pardon?”
This was it. What she was about to do would sink her Season before it began. Well, let his lordship do his worst. She would not lower her standards for a shallow, arrogant young man or indeed, anyone at all. “My father is a rector. It is for all of us to be kind to others, and even kinder to those who do not have the same advantages or talents.”
“Indeed.” Although how he got the word out since he had not opened his mouth, she didn’t know.
Fortunately, before she could respond the set ended, and she was soon returned to Cousin Clara and Vivian.
“I never wish to stand up with him again,” Silvia roundly informed her group.
Clara glanced around the room as if searching for someone. “I’m surprised not to see his mother about. She’d take him in hand. What did he do?”
“He mocks those less fortunate than he is.”
“In that case”—she sighed—“we must find another more suitable gentleman. Unless you wished to spend your life reforming him, that will never do.”
“My only concern is that he is just the type to make trouble.” Silvia chewed her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I was not reticent in expressing my disapproval.”
“I should not worry about it, my dear,” Cousin Clara said soothingly. “If he attempts to make fun of you, he’ll only look a fool.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a trial.” Silvia had known this was not a good idea. She was not malleable enough to please most young men. Unfortunately, her father truly wished her to find a gentleman to love and marry. There was nothing for it. She would do her best, and be grateful that Cousin Clara was more than capable of guiding and helping her.
“Nonsense. There will be a gentleman for you.” Clara’s tone softened. “I was much like you when I was young. My father couldn’t stand missish young ladies, and I had four older brothers. I was never a Diamond, but was considered an Original. I scared off my share of young men, older ones as well, then I met Telford.” A misty look entered her eyes. “I told him I couldn’t abide fops and weaklings, nor would I take orders from anyone. It was fortunate for him that my father didn’t care for my other suitor. Three weeks later we married.”
“Was it always wonderful? My parents almost never fought.”
“Oh no, not us. We’d go at it like cats and dogs.” Cousin Clara smiled. “But the making up was worth it.” She cleared her throat. “Now, where is your next partner? Ah, I see him coming. Nice young man, good family. He’s not up to your weight, but he’ll do for a dance or two.”
A tall, slender young man bowed. “Miss Corbet,” he said with a toothy smile, “my set, I believe.”
He knew the steps to the cotillion and was graceful, but Silvia felt like his older sister. Somewhere there was the right man for her. All she had to do was find him. It would help if Nick went back to Beresford so she could put him out of her mind.
Clara turned back to her conversation with her friend, Almeria Bellamny. “Did you see how young Stanstead and my cousin looked at one another?”
“I did.” Almeria shifted her girth on the sofa. “The doctor is right. I must lose some of this weight I’ve gained. He does have me on a reducing diet.”
Clara bit her tongue from commenting. Even as a young matron, her friend’s fondness for sweets was well-known. “What do you think about Lord Stanstead and Vivian?”
“It is hard to know.” Almeria drew her brows together in a frown. “He is a conundrum. Despite his age, I would normally say it would be a good match, but he made a cake of himself over a young lady last year. Still, when she married another gentleman, he didn’t indulge in a fit of dismals or engage in the forms of low entertainment as many of his peers would have done. Which means to me that his heart was not truly engaged. He has been set on making his mark in the Lords. One hears good reports of him there.”
