Page 75 of Appointment in Bath

Her presence had cast a pall over the room. Not even Ivo’s perpetual good humor had succeeded in thawing it.

He seemed so sure that they would accept her.

And they did to an extent.

They none of them were rude or insulting. They were civil. Exceedingly, embarrassingly, civil. “How is your father?” Lord Allendale had asked the moment she’d arrived.

The Earl was one of the iciest-looking gentlemen Meg had ever encountered. Good gracious! This was the man who had shot her father! Who had, perhaps, engaged him in a bout of fisticuffs over Ivo’s mother!

A gentleman must surely have a passionate nature to resort to violence. A duel was one thing. That required a certain level-headedness. But to fight another man? To grapple with him? To beat him with one’s fists? That wasn’t the action of a cold-blooded fellow.

Quite the reverse.

At the end of the next dance, while Meg was still catching her breath, Lord Allendale approached. “Miss Burton-Smythe.” He offered his hand. “If you would do me the honor.”

Meg had no choice but to accept him. She slowly took his hand, dreading what he might say to her once their dance began.

Ivo was obliged to relinquish her. He made no attempt to disguise his irritation. “I’d hoped for the next dance.”

“You’ve had five,” Lord Allendale replied coolly. “I believe you’re due for a change of partner.”

Ivo’s jaw tightened.

Meg glanced back at him only once as Lord Allendale led her into the lineup for the longways set. It was another vigorous country dance, broken by moments of more sedate single and double turns.

“I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my son,” Lord Allendale said as the music brought them together for the first turn. His gray eyes were identical to Ivo’s, though lacking in Ivo’s warmth and animation.

“We m-met at Mr. Colfax’s,” Meg replied, hating herself for lying. “There was a…a d-dinner.”

“I see. And was your father in attendance?”

“No, m-my lord. My father hasn’t left home since his health deteriorated.”

“Pity,” Lord Allendale said before they separated again.

Meg’s dance with Lord St. Clare was even more awkward. If Lord Allendale was a block of ice, then the handsome viscount was the entire arctic shelf.

“You are not out, I believe,” he said, holding Meg’s hand lightly as they promenaded down the line.

Meg looked straight ahead. “No, m-my lord.”

“You will be having a season in London soon, I presume?”

“Not in London,” Meg said. “In…In B-Bath.”

They separated then, each returning to the top of the line where they resumed their places across from each other. Lord St. Clare made no other attempts at conversation. The remainder of their set took place in silence. Bleak, disdainful silence.

Meg would have sooner fallen through the floor than continue dancing with the man. Even Lieutenant Heywood was a better companion. He at least made an effort at polite conversation when it was his turn.

“My sister contemplates a season in Bath,” he said. “It is, I understand, less overwhelming there for young ladies of a gentle nature. Perhaps you’ll be so good as to call on her during your visit? She has few acquaintances in the city.”

Meg smiled at him gratefully as the two of them turned around each other once, and then again, to the lively rhythm Lady Kate pounded out on the pianoforte. “It would be m-my pleasure, sir.”

“I will be accompanying her, of course, but a brother is a poor substitute for another young lady.”

Meg spared a passing thought for Roddy, who had all but abandoned her. “Indeed. But you are a considerate brother, and one of those m-must always be appreciated.”

Lieutenant Heywood returned her smile very slightly. It was the most emotion she got out of the somber ex-naval officer. He was a stoic sort, and what genuine interest he held for their evening amusement lay in Lady Kate’s direction. He looked at her often, though generally when Lady Kate didn’t realize it. Their romance, it seemed, was not yet on firm footing.