Page 70 of Waiting for Love

As Hazard predicted, Olivia’s dance card filled quickly. Jasper’s friends jostled each other to scribble their names. And so it began. Her entrée into the Marriage Mart. She had to do this right. For Jasper and Vanessa’s sake, she couldn’t fail. She had to shine.

Lord Carleton led her out for the first set. He was one of Jasper’s more frequent companions and also brother to the Duke of Dorchester. He danced well. Unfortunately, his conversation was polite rather than witty. And his cologne was gin scented.

Viscount Howerton was next. He had a pleasant laugh. But he stepped on her toes twice and the cuffs on his jacket were frayed.

Lord Friarby had an unnerving smile, glanced too often at her decolletage, and smelled of cheap perfume—ladies’ perfume.

Her fourth partner was unexpected. His Grace the Duke of Lythe. A solid old Tory. He had been a friend of her father. His duchess had died over the winter. His second. Or perhaps third. Olivia thought it was in poor taste for him to be out at parties so soon, but maybe he meant to honor Papa by accepting his invitation. He had a lively step despite his age, carried himself like a duke should, and made her laugh twice. The type of laugh that was no more than three “ha’s” and did not require catching one’s breath.

Hazard rescued her afterward when the orchestra took its rest, bringing her a glass of ratafia before the duke felt it necessary to do so. He bowed graciously and drifted away.

“I told you so,” Hazard murmured, escorting her to the window for a breath of air. “You, lady, are positively stunning. The most eligible gentlemen of the ton are beating a path to your door.”

“A drunkard, a gambler, and a rake,” she scoffed.

Hazard appeared taken aback. Then he grinned. “Just so. But also, a duke.” He reached for her dance card. “Let me see. Ah. Ebersom is next. Good chap. You will like him.” He grimaced. “Lord Bryant is a bit of an arse. Hums all the tunes. And Horstman!” He shook his head with mock horror. “Lady Olivia, my dear, the man is notoriously damp palmed. Sweats through his gloves.”

She punched his arm. “Stop. I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

“Fortunately, you have me after that. I have no faults.” He looked at her drained glass. “You managed that one without dousing yourself. Shall I get you another?”

“No, thank you.” She sighed. If she needed to visit the necessary, it would take an hour and two maids to fix her skirt.

“Lady, if it will give you strength, I’ve kept my ear to the wind. You are succeeding. Mrs. Windermere called you a diamond. Moreover, Vanessa is on the attack, charming the hordes.” His eyes lit with admiration. “War stories and pretty boots. The biddies have no idea what has hit them. Ah. Here is Ebersom coming. Put your smile back on. Dazzle him.”

*

Olivia had always enjoyed dancing. It was one of the few forms of vigorous exercise permitted to ladies. But her heart wasn’t in it. She knew she was supposed to flirt lightly, but it felt false, and the words stuck in her throat. Worse, the men didn’t appear to notice. Either they were dancing with her at Jasper’s request, or they were dancing with an earl’s sister in a pearl-studded dress with the promise of an eye-wateringly large dowry. As a bonus, she was not wall-eyed and did not walk with a limp.

In truth, she could not stop thinking of the brief waltz she’d shared with Benjamin.

From what she’d overheard, the only invitation that had been declined was his. With regrets. Because he did not wish to provoke gossip. He was not a gentleman, and he should not be mixing with gentleladies. Bollocks.

She did have fun dancing with Hazard. She went with him into supper with a sense of relief. It was to be a formal, sit-down affair, not a buffet, and eating such a meal with any of her other dancing partners would have been torture.

“I danced with Georgiana earlier,” he said, pulling out Olivia’s chair. He chuckled softly. “How was Lord Horstman?”

“Damp.”

“I warned you.” He sat down beside her. “What about Ebersom?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t step on my feet.”

“You should marry the man.”

While waiters served the first course, a white soup, he took a pinch of snuff. She tried not to recoil when he sneezed. Then she thought of something and laughed.

“What is funny?”

“Oh, I remember seeing you take snuff at one of our house parties. Other men were doing it too, but none of my brothers ever did. It seemed quite the thing, so I asked Reg why he did not.”

“And?”

“He passed me a caster of pepper and told me to hold a pinch in my nostril and sniff it up.”

“Good Lord.”

“I know. You would think it of Jasper or Crispin, not Reg. Of course, I did it. My head burst into flames. Water streamed from my eyes. I sneezed for a good ten minutes.”