And she? She would be married to somebody else. Somebody good. Somebody kind.
And Gideon? He would remain as a mark upon her memory. But nothing more than a memory nonetheless.
CHAPTER 15
GIDEON
Gideon walked off the dance floor feeling not entirely like himself. Lately, whenever he found himself too close to Helena for too long, that strange feeling resurfaced.
Being with her felt so natural. As they had danced, he could think of nothing but how wonderful it would be to dance with her like that always.
But he had to remind himself that he had made a promise. He would find her a good husband. He would ensure she was save. He could not allow himself to wallow in these muddy waters.
He made his way to the refreshment room, where he found James. James looked at him. “You are looking rather Friday-faced for a man who just danced with a lovely woman. What is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter,” he said. “Nobody will think anything of it. Everyone knows I am not in the market for another wife.Besides, if you are so worried, you dance with her. Is that not what gentlemen such as yourself are here for? To give her a chance to show what a gifted dancer she is.”
James rolled his eyes. “I suppose, if you insist. What is next, the Quadrille? I do not dance that. Perhaps the Cotillion. That is the next one — I will ask her. But you owe me.”
“She is a very good dancer. I will owe you nothing. In fact, you will owe me for having introduced you to such a brilliant partner.”
James shook his head. “Did you notice the lady patronesses? They were standing in the corner staring at the two of you the entire time you danced.”
He had in fact noticed. He had also noticed the way Lady Marlborough had smirked at him, a most peculiar expression he had not been able to eject from his mind. “She knew my father,” he said. “Lady Marlborough. He once told me she had decided I ought to marry her niece — the one who married the Prince Regent’s cousin last year. A much superior match, of course.”
“I see. Is that what interests her in what you do?”
“I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “Now go back out there and find Helena and tell her you wish to dance the Cotillion with her. And keep an eye out for any gentleman who appears interested. Do not make any introductions. I shall do that myself.”
James raised both hands. “Very well. You would think you were the next King of England, the way you order people about.”
“Go.”
James made his way back into the ballroom and Gideon refilled his glass. The lemonade was as weak as always. He was about to follow when Lady Marlborough entered the refreshment room. She looked up at him, deep wrinkles appearing on her forehead.
“Your Grace.”
“I beg your pardon for the scene earlier,” he said at once. “It will not happen again. You have my word.”
“That is not what I came to discuss. But I do appreciate it. We cannot have such scenes at Almack’s. We must maintain a certain level of decorum. We cannot have lords brawling on the dance floor.”
“I do take exception to you calling me a lord. I am a Duke.”
She rolled her eyes, which was most undignified for a woman of her standing. “You are a viscount who got lucky. And Lord Henry…. I do have a mind to revoke his voucher. But that is not why I am here.”
“Is it not?” he said. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you simply come in for a piece of, I must say, rather dry cake?”
“I do not bake the cake,” she said. “And has it ever occurred to you that perhaps the lemonade is weak and the cake is dry for a reason? We do not want people standing in the refreshment room filling their bellies at our expense. We want them outside dancing and conversing and making connections.”
“Right. They say many a good connection has been made over a piece of fruit cake and brandy.”
The lady blinked at him, and he knew he was taking it too far. He was well aware that he had the regrettable habit of not knowing quite when to stop with his provocations. It had driven his father to point nonplus on more than one occasion, and even the usually patient Captain Hartwell had found it a difficult character trait to accept.
Cassandra had found it charming, of course. But then again, she had found it charming when he belched after drinking down a glass of ale too fast — though in reality she had probably been disgusted by it. It occurred to him that he ought to try that with Helena sometime, simply to see her reaction. He smiled to himself.
“I do not know what is so amusing,” Lady Marlborough said. “But I have come in here to give you some counsel. The young lady you are attempting to help?—”
“Lady Helena Vale. Yes.”
