Page 12 of A Lady of Conscience

Hannah gave Kate an alert glance. “He’s not attending?”

“Not that I’m aware,” Kate answered.

A bewildering mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through Hannah. She didn’t let it show. She was too conscious of everyone’s attention on her face. Not only her mother, father, and brother, but Lord and Lady Allendale too.

Were they all as curious about Hannah and Lord St. Clare as Hannah’s mother had been? And all because Lord St. Clare had so inexplicably come to Bath?

Well, Hannah thought stoutly, this would surely set their suspicions to rest. For if Lord St. Clare had any romantic interest in her, he would have been here tonight to stake his claim. Instead, he hadn’t come at all.

It was difficult not to take it as a slight.

Still, Hannah supposed it wasn’t wholly a surprise. Lord St. Clare had called at Camden Place but twice since his visit on the day of their arrival. Both times, it had been in the presence of their families. Hannah had exchanged hardly any words with him, her shyness in his presence having only increased after her mother had suggested that he might have a tendre for her.

“It’s no great loss,” Kate said. “You don’t want to be spending all of the evening dancing with present and future relations. What you require is an eligible gentleman.” She looked to the others. “If you will allow us to take a turn about the room?”

Hannah’s mother inclined her head. “By all means.”

Kate linked her arm with Hannah’s. “Walk with me,” she said, drawing Hannah away. “Your father and brother are too imposing, that’s the trouble. Few gentlemen will dare approach you with them looming nearby.”

Hannah felt several curious looks in her direction, both from ladies and from gentlemen, as she strolled the perimeter of the ballroom with Kate. Her stomach trembled under their scrutiny. It was difficult to be stared at, whatever the circumstances. One never knew if those staring were being critical or admiring.

“A respectable gentleman must seek permission from my parents before asking me to dance, mustn’t he?” she asked.

“No, indeed,” Kate said. “Not unless he’s a very dull dog. You don’t want one of those. As for the other gentlemen, it’s not disrespectful for them to ask you directly. It’s only a waltz or a polka, after all, not a proposal of marriage. One needn’t involve one’s father in the transaction.”

“But if we’re not acquainted⁠—”

“Any gentlemen interested in dancing with you will apply to our hosts for an introduction. That’s why I suggested we take a turn. You want to be seen. A lady is always at her best when she’s in motion.”

They hadn’t been promenading long when Lady Carleton intercepted them. She had a gentleman with her, just as Kate had predicted.

“Miss Heywood! There you are. And Lady Kate. How charming. May I present Sir George Dacres of Middlebury Hall as a very worthy partner?” Her ladyship urged the gentleman forward. “Sir George? Miss Heywood, granddaughter of the Earl of Gordon, and this is Lady Kate Beresford, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Allendale.”

“Miss Heywood. My lady.” Sir George bowed to them. He was a man of moderate height, with a neatly trimmed beard and side-whiskers. Not an unbecoming figure of a fellow, but nowhere near as devastatingly handsome as a man like Viscount St. Clare.

Which was nothing to the point. Hannah shouldn’t be comparing gentlemen to Lord St. Clare as though he was the secret standard of her heart. She wasn’t looking for a man with a striking appearance. She wanted one with an admirable character.

Perhaps Sir George might be him?

He offered his hand to her as the orchestra struck up the music for the opening march. “If you would do me the honor?”

Hannah mutely accepted his offer, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

The other couples took their places, while those who weren’t dancing receded to the edges of the ballroom to watch.

Any shyness Hannah felt at dancing with a stranger was promptly overshadowed by the focus it took to remember the sinking steps and turns of the polonaise. She found herself looking down at her feet far more than she ought, only to raise her gaze and realize that she’d forgotten her place. It made conversation difficult. On every occasion Sir George attempted to engage her, she could only reply by saying yes or no—that is, when she remembered to reply at all.

By the time the polonaise came to a close, Hannah had dispensed with any idea that Sir George might be the one for her. Plainly impatient with her awkwardness, he was all-too eager to search out a different partner.

Lady Carleton was undeterred. She introduced Hannah to a succession of other gentlemen as the evening progressed⁠—younger sons of the gentry, country squires, and a widowed baronet.

Hannah danced with them all to similar effect. Indeed, there wasn’t a single set she was obliged to sit out for lack of a partner. Charles and Ivo were the only ones among them who made the effort enjoyable. With them, at least, she lost some of her anxiousness and could actually take pleasure in dancing. As for the rest of the gentlemen…

They were all of them civil, and many of them kind, but none were in any way romantic.

Hannah finished a country dance with her latest partner, a self-important young baron from Dorset with an impeccably groomed mustache. He led her back to her parents as the other guests assembled for the next set. It was to be the first waltz of the evening. It was also the supper dance. Whoever partnered her for it would have the privilege of dining with her.

Thus far, the waltz had remained unclaimed on her dance card. Hannah anticipated Lady Carleton would supply her with a partner for it just as she’d done the other dances. But as Hannah approached her parents, it wasn’t her ladyship she spied standing with them along the edge of the ballroom.