“She is Lady Jane Garvey now,” her ladyship said archly. “They married a few weeks ago. I dare say you are not the only one unaware of it. The wedding took place quietly in the country. I was told only because I am a good friend of her mother’s.”
Perhaps that was the reason neither his mother nor his grandmother and cousin had been informed of the marriage. It seemed his list had narrowed down to two, Miss Elizabeth Turley and Lady Emily. “Can you tell me if Lady Emily Oakwood is present this evening?”
“Indeed she is.” Lady Holland glanced toward the far end of the ballroom. “Her mother is not far from the orchestra balcony. The woman with the gold turban and white feathers.”
Geoff glanced in the direction she indicated. “I shall find Lady Emily after this set.”
“Thank you.” Lady Holland gave him a grateful smile.
She led him to a painfully shy young lady and he immediately set about trying to put her at ease. Yet, it was not until a quarter of the way through the country dance that the girl—she was clearly still too young to have had a Season—started enjoying herself. When he returned her to her mother, he was glad to see other young men gathering around to stand up with her.
After the set, he found Lady Emily and her mother. It took only a few moments of gushing conversation about balls and other entertainments before he was thankful her card was full.
Geoff would have liked to have had more choices, but at least he could now focus all of his attention on Miss Turley. This time he would not let the lady slip through his fingers.
There were still a few more sets until he could dance with her, and he allowed his hostess to pair him with young ladies needing partners until—finally—it was time for the supper dance.
It had dawned on him as he watched Miss Turley dance every set of the evening, he was damned lucky she’d not already been partnered for the supper dance. Her brother was correct. She was popular. It would serve Geoff well to follow the man’s advice and discover which entertainments she would attend and reserve sets before other gentlemen could be there before him.
“Miss Turley.” He bowed over her hand. “My dance, I believe.”
She smiled politely, but not with the warmth he had seen Lady Mary give the unknown gentleman, and he felt the lack of it. Could he make her smile at him that way? What would he have to do to achieve his goal? “It is, indeed, my lord.”
Geoff led her to the dance floor and they took their positions. When he placed his palm on her waist, he wanted to draw her closer to him. Then she placed her hand on his waist, and her light pressure warmed him through his clothing. His hand practically engulfed her much smaller one. He wished he could touch her hand bare skin to bare skin. “I have been looking forward to this dance all evening.”
Yet, instead of her smiling adoringly at him, she answered coolly with a polite smile. “Thank you for saying so. You are very kind.”
Somehow he would have to discover the way to make her passion flare.
Elizabeth had looked forward to this dance with him all night as well. For reasons she could not explain, and despite her misgivings, she found herself drawn to him. She longed to find out how it felt to be in his arms. Still, she was not about to tell Lord Harrington that. With great difficulty, she managed to keep her response to him polite and nothing more.
Her waist warmed when his hand held her firmly, and even through their gloves, she felt a connection. He would be a kind, if not the most attentive, husband, and she wished to marry and have children. How easy it would be to simply encourage him to propose. But was that not exactly what she did not like about him? His willingness to wed without love.
Dotty’s whispered advice rang in Elizabeth’s ears.
Make him fight for you.If he is worthy of your regard, he must prove it. You deserve a man who will love you.
Her friend was right, and Elizabeth knew in her heart she could never be happy without the chance of a love match.
At the beginning of the Season, she had been willing to please her father and had done all she could to attach Lord Merton. Now though, she decided it was much better to please herself than anyone else. After all, she was the one who had to live with the man, and getting rid of a husband was next to impossible.
The music began and they twirled around the room. Unlike some gentlemen she knew, Lord Harrington did not attempt to hold her closer during the turns. Did that mean he was not attracted to her, or was he merely being proper?
“You dance extremely well,” he said.
“It is easy when one’s partner is skilled.” Elizabeth knew she was prevaricating. Still, she could not let him think he had won her over before he showed in some way that he cared for her beyond mere compatibility.
In fact, he danced exceedingly well. She felt as light as a feather being steered around the floor. His hand was firm and sure on her waist, and she found herself wanting to draw him closer, lean into him. No other man, not even Lord Merton, made her feel so . . . warm.
Lord Harrington smiled down at her, and she wondered if he felt the same something between them that she did. She would see. Despite knowing that he was in a hurry to find a wife, Elizabeth would not be rushed. This was for the rest of her life, and she had to get it right.
Once again their conversation revolved around the events in Brussels. He told her of a conversation he’d had early this evening with a friend who was in the Life Guards. Actually, she was fascinated by the personalities and the squabbles that seemed to abound.
When he told her a story he’d heard about a Prussian delegate, he used several German phrases. He did not appear astonished when she responded in the same language, but smiled as if he had been proven correct in something.
“How many languages do you speak?” he asked.
“Four, including English.” His smile at her answer reminded Elizabeth of the one her governess used to give her when she had done particularly well in her lessons.
