Page 16 of A Gifted Earl

“Delighted to meet you, ladies. Lady Venetia… might I hope for a dance?”

Venetia took a steadying breath. No matter how much she wanted to, she could not refuse him – not if she hoped to have any other gentleman dance with her.

“Of course, Lord Blatherfort. I have this next dance free.”

And every other dance tonight…

At that moment, the orchestra struck up, and the man beamed at her, and offered her his arm. She placed her hand upon it, and allowed him to lead her to the floor, where others were forming up. The dance was to be one of the older style, with stately steps and a great deal of rotating about other dancers. She was glad of that, for she did not wish to have to be in contact with him any more than absolutely necessary.

He took her hand, and she could feel, even through her glove, that his was damp. It sent a little shiver of revulsion through her. They began to move, and as the steps called for him to draw her close, before turning her away, he spoke.

“You’ve a fine figure, my Lady but, if you’ll forgive me for being blunt, your scar rather detracts from your… visual appeal. But I am not a man to be easily put off.”

She gasped, but the dance spun her away around the next couple, and she was saved from making any immediate response as a result. But of course, the reprieve was only momentary – the dance brought them back together again all too soon.

“I’m sure that you’re aware of how… limited… your prospects are, my Lady. In the matter of marriage, that is. But… if a gentleman seeks a Lady’s companionship, without the complications of matrimony… well then, he is likely to be a little more… flexible… in his determinations. I am sure that you know what I mean.”

Again, the dance saved her from the need for immediate response, and by the time it brought them back together, she was ready.

“I believe that I do understand exactly what you are implying, my Lord. And I must say now that I find your offer remarkably improper. I must decline it, I am afraid. Regardless of how you may perceive my situation, I still have the hope of something more… traditional… than the role of mistress.”

The man had the gall to laugh at her words.

“Then the best of luck to you, my Lady – for you’ll need it. When you’re desperate, do come and call on me, and we’ll see if I am in a generous mood – but of course, by then, some other woman may have taken advantage of my kindness…”

The dance, with a final set of turns about other couples, finally ended, and he led her back to her mother, who watched her approaching with worried eyes. Venetia suspected that her cheeks were flushed – from anger, not exertion.

Only once he had bowed and left them did Lady Hardenwell touch Venetia’s hand.

“Venetia? Is all well? You look rather… flustered?”

“All is as well as is to be expected. I am sure that I will get used to being propositioned by arrogant men eventually. And perhaps I will improve the polish of my rejection speech to them, with more practice.”

Lady Hardenwell slipped her arm through Venetia’s.

“Oh, my dear girl! We will survive this, somehow. Amongst all of the gentlemen in London, surely there is at least one capable of seeing you as the treasure that you are, of looking past the surface? At least you are now being asked to dance, and that means you are seen, and others may dance with you too. So you must see the self-important bounders like Blatherfort as simply a tool to allow others to notice you.”

“I truly hope that you are right, Mother, but it seems unlikely… and I will not accept an improper offer, regardless.”

“Nor should you – even if we have to sell everything we have to survive, that is better than giving up all hope, and allowing a man like that to degrade you.”

Venetia said nothing more, but the thoughts which ran through her mind were full of despair.

If we have to sell everything, then we will fall to a state of poverty where offers like Lord Blatherfort’s may come to seem worthwhile…