“You’ve never said that before. Why?”
“He and my mother didn’t get along well at all. I suppose if I didn’t look so much like her it would be different.”
Silvia caught Nick’s attention again. “Where is he taking her?”
Hawksworth straightened, shoving himself off the pillar. “Outside. It appears as if you were right to be concerned.”
Before he had finished his sentence, Nick had started making his way around the edge of the room, his friend following close behind, just as they had in the army.
Silvia and Lord Oliver were not far from the French windows to the terrace, when Nick heard her say, “This is perfect. There is a slight breeze.”
“It will be much cooler on the terrace itself.”
“I have no doubt, but my shawl is with Lady Telford, and I do not wish to catch a chill.”
He hung back. If she could handle the situation, he would let her. God knew she wouldn’t thank him for interfering.
“Very well then, perhaps another time.” Lord Oliver’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of frustration underlying his drawl. “I’ll escort you back to her ladyship.”
Silvia nodded her head once. “Thank you, my lord.”
Nick started to trail her at a reasonable distance when a gloved hand, adorned with rings, stopped him. “I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance, sir.” An older woman with a purple turban complete with large floppy feathers addressed Hawksworth. “Hawksworth, make the introductions, if you would.”
Nick wanted to bark a laugh as his friend paled.
Hawksworth bowed. “My lady, allow me to introduce the Earl of Beresford. My lord, Lady Bellamny, my godmother.”
Ah, the dragon of theton. Only Almack’s patroness had as much influence. “My lady, a pleasure to meet you.”
“Well, you’re one of the few young men who think so.”
He choked, quickly turning it into a cough.
“I’ll leave you now before you have apoplexy.” She patted his arm. “Miss Corbet is safely back with Lady Telford. If you wish to court her, here is your chance.”
It was apparently Hawksworth’s turn to change a laugh into a cough.
“You misunderstand,” Nick said firmly. “I have no interest in the lady, nor does she have any in me.”
“Indeed.” Lady Bellamny leaned toward him a bit. “In that case, the two of you should not spend so much time watching one another.”
Before Nick could think of a reply, she left to accost another innocent guest.
“Better you than me,” his friend muttered. “Thank you for absolutely nothing.”
Hawksworth shrugged. “When it comes to Lady Bellamny, it’s each man for himself. The woman scares me to death when she’s in Town, and I have known her all my life. However, if you wish to marry she will do all she is able to assist you into the parson’s mousetrap.”
Nick scanned the ballroom. Silvia was being led out to dance with a man of middling height who looked to be several years older than he. “Who is she with now?”
“Lady Bellamny?”
“No, Miss Corbet.”
Hawksworth fixed his quizzing glass on the dance floor. “Bumfield. He is a widower with several children. Perfectly harmless.” Nick must have done something, for the next thing out of his friend’s mouth was, “Why the devil don’t you just ask her to stand up with you?”
“She won’t do it,” he answered, hoping his tone wasn’t as petulant as he felt.
“Oh, I think she will. As long as there is a space left on her card. After all, if she turns you down, she can’t dance for the rest of the evening.”
