Page 29 of 10 Things I Hate About the Earl

“Would you care to dance this first set with me?” Montrose was a bit older than most of the gentlemen on the hunt this Season and not as attractive. Still, if he would do her the kindness of asking her to dance when no one else would, she certainly wouldn’t turn him down.

“I would love to, my lord.” The smile Kate sent him as she took his arm was as genuine as could be. Kindness came from the most unexpected places and should not be taken for granted.

****

“Did you enjoy your set with Lord Montrose?” Lord Haversham asked as they spun about the room to the strains of the promised waltz.

“I did, rather. He’s a nice gentleman, although there is an air of sadness about him.” Kate sighed with contentment, perfectly willing to allow Haversham to take command of the dance and weave them in and around the other couples on the ballroom floor.

“Such a pity about his wife. She died in childbirth, she and the child. He’s been grief-stricken ever since.” Haversham’s face had become grave. “They were very devoted to one another.”

“I’d heard that. So horrible for him.” Kate inadvertently gripped his hand tighter. “That he misses her terribly, even after all this time.”

“We must all carry on despite our grief.” Haversham’s tone held a hint of melancholy.

Kate peered into his face, which suddenly seemed more careworn. But of course, his father had died not long ago. Nathan had told her Haversham had been devastated to lose him at such a young age. She’d not been very sympathetic toward the earl then, but now wondered if part of his acerbic wit was an attempt to mask his lingering grief. “We do indeed, my lord. It is the burden those left behind must bear.”

“Oh dear, Miss Locke. I hope we are not descending into the maudlin.” He spun them around so quickly Kate became quite dizzy. “To combat that disgraceful decline, let us do something to divert us, to divert the entire ton.”

“What might that be, my lord? I’d think a picnic in public where you pelted me with grapes would be diverting enough for anyone.” Still, the fun of that mock battle had Kate looking forward to any further diversion Haversham might suggest.

“I think we should dance a country dance after supper.” His eyes twinkled at her.

“Lord Haversham!” Again, Kate’s heart took off racing in her chest. “Is this your misguided way of proposing to me?” Everyone knew that dancing more than two dances with one gentleman was tantamount to an engagement.

“Heaven forbid, Miss Locke.” His voice carried his normal teasing tone, but something more serious lurked in the back of his eyes. “I merely wish to see if anyone is paying attention to us.”

“If they haven’t been, they certainly would then. Lady Morris can count to three if no one else can.” That lady’s gossiping nature had been the cause of at least three ton marriages that would never have occurred had the woman’s keen eyes not spied a minor impropriety. “I am afraid you will have to be satisfied with two waltzes and supper this evening, my lord.” She peered up at him, suddenly alert. Had people begun to take notice of their recent amity? And how would she feel about it if they had?

Chapter 13

Three evenings later, Kate found herself sitting in the back row of chairs in Lady Atherton’s salon, waiting for the renowned opera singer Madam DuClaire to begin her concert. Or, more accurately, waiting for Lord Haversham to appear.

After his scandalous suggestion they dance a third dance at Lady Camden’s, she’d scrutinized his behavior more closely, trying to decide if the earl was showing signs of partiality toward her. The last two evenings, he’d been his usual acerbic self, and she’d welcomed the return of their spirited exchanges. However, her opinion of him had undeniably altered.

When she’d come home from Lady Camden’s, she’d gone straight to the receiving room, taken the infamous list out of the drawer, crumpled it up, and thrown it on the fire. She’d tell Nathan, if he ever asked about it, that she would have to pay the forfeit. Not that she’d mind now. She couldn’t summon regret over taking the wager, though. That list had unexpectedly made her focus more keenly on Lord Haversham’s good qualities.

“Pardon me, but is this seat taken?” The man himself appeared as if summoned, and Kate flushed.

“Yes, it is. I’m saving it for a gentleman who’s eternally late to every gathering.” Kate pursed her lips but then relaxed them into a smile.

“I cannot be late if the entertainment isn’t screeching yet.” Haversham made a face as he sat down next to her.

“Madame DuClaire is a French opera singer, my lord. She does not screech.” Kate wasn’t a great fan of opera, but she’d heard the lady was talented and could move audiences to tears. “I hope you are prepared to eat those words.”

“As easily as I did the cake, Miss Locke.” He gave her a droll look.

Kate sputtered, trying not to laugh as the madame took her place in front of Lady Atherton’s large fireplace, adorned with green and white garlands for the festive occasion.

“Shhh.” Haversham shushed her, giving her a wicked glare. “Control yourself, Miss Locke. Madame DuClaret is about to begin.

Kate swallowed her laugher and rapped him on the arm briskly with her fan. The man was more incorrigible than a twelve-year-old boy.

Madame DuClaire began with the aria “Salce” from Rossini’s Otello, and Kate settled down in her chair, determined to enjoy the music, even if she didn’t understand a word of Italian. She’d just begun to ignore the words and let herself be carried away by the tune when a whisper caught her attention.

“I’d say by the level her screeching’s reached, someone’s told Desdemona her husband’s about to kill her.” Haversham had leaned his head slightly toward her, his lips directly beside her ear.

Kate gasped, fighting to keep in the laugh that threatened to explode from her.