Page 2 of The Cornish Bride

Oh. Somehow that didn’t come over in a nice way. “Did you enjoy it?” Ysella tried. Mama had instilled in her, more than once or twice, that the most important thing at a ball was to be polite. To everyone. Even if you thought them a crashing bore. Which was how she still viewed Charlotte.

Charlotte shook her head. “Not at all. A complete waste of time and Papa’s money, as I have no intention of marrying. I did tell Mama, but she insisted I’d change my mind.”

Goodness, how outspoken Charlotte had become. She hadn’t been like that at school, which was what had made her such a good target for teasing. “And have you?”

Charlotte’s rather thick, dark eyebrows creased in a frown. “What a silly question. But then, you always were a little on the silly side, weren’t you?”

Ysella’s mouth fell open. Kit sometimes called her silly, but for someone she didn’t know all that well, and indeed hadn’t seen for years, to do so felt downright rude. Hadn’t Cousin Marianne given her daughter the “you must be polite at all costs” lecture Mama had given Ysella? Not a girl to take being insulted lying down, and forgetting Mama’s well-intentioned advice, Ysella was ready with a retort. “And you weren’t as rude as you are now.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. Luckily for her she hadn’t inherited her mother’s facial shape and her lips were not as thin as Marianne’s. “On the contrary. I was obeying rules when I was at school, and one of the rules was to think before you speak. I was merely holding my tongue for fear of being found guilty of infringing upon those rules. Unlike you, who thought bullying your main raison d’être and quite forgot the rule to be kind to everyone.”

Ysella’s mouth worked as for a moment words escaped her. “My what?”

Charlotte gave her a smug smile. “Reason for being. If you hadn’t been expelled, you might have learnt some French while you were there so you would know what that means.”

How unfair was this? Ysella’s own brow lowered in a scowl. “I was not a bully,” she managed. “I was just bored and having fun.”

Charlotte halted, facing Ysella. Their respective mothers didn’t seem to have noticed and had vanished into the crush in search of lemonade. “It may not have felt to you like you were bullying me, but you were. You picked on me because I was an easy target, not being like the other girls. You made me very unhappy, and you didn’t care.”

Ysella sucked in her lips, a wave of guilt washing over her. “I-I didn’t know you were unhappy.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes again. “Well, I was. And I was really pleased when you were expelled. The other girls left me alone after you left. And I could get on with doing what I was there to do—learning. Reading my books. In peace.”

Heat rose to Ysella’s cheeks. She’d indulged in the teasing Charlotte had seen as bullying because she’d been bored and annoyed with Kit and Mama for sending her away to school. “I-I’m sorry, Charlotte. I thought you’d think it was funny too. I didn’t think.” She put a hand on Charlotte’s arm, genuinely contrite and regretting her previous thought that Cousin Marianne looked like a man, as though all her sins needed atoning for. “Can you forgive me?”

For a moment, Charlotte regarded her out of unblinking eyes. “Do you mean that?”

Ysella nodded. “I do. Let me make it up to you. I promise never to tease you about your books again. That is, if you still read them.” She paused. Was that even possible? “Well, I’ll try not to.” She gave a hesitant smile.

A smile crept across Charlotte’s sober face, crinkling the corners of her mouth and eyes and bestowing on her a beauty Ysella hadn’t expected. She gave a little gasp. “Why, you are quite pretty when you smile.”

Charlotte frowned again. “That counts as teasing. The very words you speak imply that I am not pretty when I am not smiling.”

Ysella giggled. “That was not what I meant. Here.” She tucked her hand through Charlotte’s arm. “Let us catch up with our illustrious mothers or we shall be in trouble.”

She turned to look for the entrance to the refreshment room, and as she did so two young gentlemen stepped into her path.

“Fitz!” Ysella exclaimed in delight. Her eyes flicked over the second young man, taking in his extravagant good looks and the smoldering fire in his eyes. Her heart did a little jolt but she forced her attention back to her cousin.

Captain Fitzwilliam Carlyon, Charlotte’s uncle and Marianne’s much younger brother, handsome in his dashing regimentals, swept the two girls an extravagant bow. “Cousin Ysella, Harry, what luck to meet you both here.” He took Ysella’s gloved hand and kissed it, raising his eyes to meet hers, an impudent gleam in them.

Ysella smiled back. How could she not at her handsome cousin, even though everyone knew he was such a terrible rake and had such a bad reputation. He was family, after all, and so dashing. How could a girl not have a soft spot for a man like him? Her eyes slid over his shoulder for a moment, meeting those of his friend. The stranger held her gaze for a moment that stretched into an eternity before she could drag her attention back to Charlotte and Fitz.

Charlotte held out her gloved hand to her uncle. “Please don’t call me Harry, Uncle Fitz. You know very well how it vexes me.”

He brushed his lips over her fingers in a perfunctory gesture. “So, little Harry—sorry, Charlotte, is finally out in society? I thought I’d never see the day. And you, too, Ysella.”

Charlotte gave him a decided glare. “Neither did I. And nor do I see the point of it.”

Fitz grinned. “You’ll soon change your mind when you meet some handsome beau.” He gestured to his companion, a man who fitted that description to perfection, who stepped forward and swept a bow. “Allow me to introduce you both to my dear friend, Captain Oliver Featherstone. He was dashed anxious for me to make an introduction so he could procure a dance with you, Cuz.”

This last was addressed to Ysella, who was staring at Captain Featherstone out of wide eyes, unable now to drag her gaze away. Of a height with Fitz, who was considered tall, Captain Featherstone had to be quite the most handsome man Ysella had ever seen. Regimentals had the habit of making men appear more handsome than they were, of course, but nevertheless, he was every bit the paragon she’d taken him for at first glance.

Rich, chestnut hair had been artfully combed into something resembling a Grecian statue, and his features matched that in perfection. Wide brown eyes, a straight nose and lips that had an inviting curve to them, all added to the air he carried of being a fugitive from Mount Olympus.

“Miss Carlyon,” he said in a deep, melodious voice, his dark eyes twinkling at her with something more than ordinary friendliness. “Might I beg the favor of a dance with you?”

Ysella had to close her mouth and swallow before she could reply. Her voice came out a little hoarse. “Captain Featherstone. I should be very happy to take a turn around the dance floor with you.” She groped for her dance card and pencil where they were hanging from her wrist. Nothing was as yet written in it. “Which dance would you like?”

Those eyes. Heat rose up through her entire body as his gaze lingered on her. Almost, her knees buckled, which would have been mortifying, but with a Herculean effort she managed to remain upright. What would it be like to dance with him? The thought that she’d like to be able to dance the forbidden waltz with him surfaced and her cheeks flamed even more. Oh, to be held in those strong, scarlet-clad arms. Oh, to be whisked out onto the terrace into a shadowy corner and have him press those perfect lips against hers. Her rather too romantic heart soared.

He stepped closer, ostensibly to peer at her dance card, the scent of his perfume strong.

How tall he was. Taller than Fitz, even, now he was close up. Her breath came unevenly as awareness of his proximity drenched her. She held out her dance card with fingers that trembled.

He looked down at her and smiled, and her heart did an unaccustomed somersault. How could smiling make him even more handsome?

“If you don’t mind,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “I’d like this next dance.”