“Hmm. It think he is fond of you as well.”
“I doubt his attention is more than that of a friend.” Thankfully, at that point they changed partners, but she could tell he didn’t think she was being truthful, and she hadn’t been.
Lord Evesham was being impertinent asking her such a personal question. Especially one she did not wish to answer. He did not press his inquiries further though, and she began to relax. Her next partner was Lord Rutherford, while Lord Stanstead partnered Anna Rutherford.
Sometime later, Lord Stanstead claimed his second dance with Vivian, another waltz. Did it mean anything that all the other ladies were now dancing with their husbands? Come to think of it, no man out of their immediate circle had asked her to stand up with him. Surely, it was a coincidence. She had always been told gentlemen did not live in their wives’ pockets. Still, all of her new friends seemed to have special relations with their mates.
Lord Stanstead’s large palm rested on her waist, stealing her ability to concentrate on anything or anyone but him. No other gentleman had ever held her so possessively, and she liked it, as if she was to be protected and cared for. Was Lord Evesham correct? Could Lord Stanstead truly have feelings for her?
His low voice cut in on her thoughts. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes.” More fun than she’d had in years. “Do I not appear to be?”
“You do now.” He smiled at her as if no one else was present or could see them. “I noticed that you appeared nervous or perhaps distracted earlier.”
“I am not used to large gatherings.” Or ones at which her husband. . . dead husband . . . had not made a point of saying something cutting to her. “But I am finding the more political events make me feel less on display.”
“Maybe it is that intelligence is valued over what one is wearing.”
Or how young one was, or how one’s body might look. “I believe you are correct.” She dreaded having to attend the balls Silvia was finding so delightful. “Did you know that Phoebe and the other ladies have started charities to help widows and their children, as well as schools?”
“Yes, and not only that.” He grinned ruefully. “They do not actually trust the politicians will do anything to the purpose. Anna won’t be happy until ladies have the vote.”
Which was an excellent idea, but unlikely to occur. Even peeresses in their own right could not vote. “I must say I agree with her.”
“Not you as well!” Lord Stanstead exclaimed jokingly. “Polite Society will soon be taken over by radical thinkers.”
Vivian laughed and he drew her closer.
“You are in good company,” he said. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing his tone to caress her. “My mother demands a full accounting of what is going on at the Lords and assists my step-father in drafting speeches and legislation.”
“How horrible,” she teased, “for you to be surrounded by so many forceful ladies.” Was that what he looked for in a wife?
“Did you know they all have one feature in common?”
“Do they really?” She caught glimpses of Anna and Phoebe. “None of them look at all alike.”
“No, but they have one feature in common.” He nodded. “Each of them has a determined chin.”
Lord Stanstead made Vivian wish she had a determined chin as well. Then again, not much was right about her, so one more thing hardly mattered. After the masquerade she would make an excuse to spend several days away from London. She could view properties and, without his presence, bar his lordship from her mind. And her heart.
“Where is Lady Beresford?” The angry voice of Nick Beresford growled from behind Silvia.
She clamped her lips together. If she were not so well bred, she would have rolled her eyes. Though she could swear her knuckles still stung from the last time she’d made that mistake, which had been at least ten years ago.
She turned to face her tormentor, clipping her words. “Not. Here.”
“That, I can see,” he snapped. “Is she hiding from me?”
The man was going to drive her mad. Silvia breathed deeply through her nose, letting out the breath. She could not raise her voice in Lady Framingham’s ballroom. “I doubt she has given you the slightest thought since you visited Lady Telford’s home. She has developed her own set of friends. Something you would be wise to do as well, my lord.”
He narrowed his eyes at Silvia. “What makes you think I don’t have friends?”
“If you did”—she poked her finger at his chest, closer than ever to losing her temper—“you would not be here badgering me.”
“I asked a civil question.”
“I haven’t heard you ask anything in a civil tone since you were ten years old.”
