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“I would be honored to dance with any friend of yours.” Collingwood scanned the room.
They walked over to where Emma and Louisa stood. Louisa smiled at Harry and then Collingwood. “Your Grace, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.
“Miss Drake,” Collingwood said with a bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Emma, this is Lord Collingwood.”
“A pleasure, my lord.” Emma made her curtsy and then excused herself.
“Would you honor me with a dance, Miss Drake?” Collingwood asked politely.
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
While they went off to dance, Harry picked up a snifter of brandy and gulped it down. What the devil was wrong with him tonight? The idea of that man laying a hand on her, even with gloves on, touched a nerve with Harry. He stifled the urge to go over and cut in on Collingwood. That would never do. Louisa would be furious...with good reason.
Except, seeing her with Collingwood might drive him insane.
LOUISA ENJOYED HER dance with Collingwood, who conversed with her about his family and his sister’s new child. He was a handsome man with his blond hair and brown eyes, but she felt as if she were dancing with a brother. She supposed if she must settle, then Collingwood would be an acceptable choice. Her mother would be pleased that he was a viscount as that was the most important thing to her. But Louisa didn’t wish to settle now that she had spent time with Harry again.
“I do hope you will honor me with one more dance before the night is through?”
She smiled at him. “Of course.”
He left her with her mother, who beamed. “A viscount, Louisa! Very good.”
“A very nice man, Mamma.”
“The only thing that matters is that he has a title and enough income. Now catch this one.”
Louisa shook her head as she walked away from her mother and spied the terrace. A few minutes alone would do her good to think. She slipped outside, hoping no one noticed her. Staring out at the gardens, she wondered what her life would be like in a year. Would she finally be married and perhaps with a child on the way? Or firmly on the shelf? At twenty-five, this was quite probably her last chance.
If things didn’t work with Harry, Collingwood might be an acceptable solution. Everything she’d heard about the man was kind. The son of a viscount, his mother lived with him when she wasn’t visiting her daughter’s family. He should have enough income to satisfy her mother, although she honestly didn’t know. So why did she feel so empty inside?
She felt a presence before the man spoke. Please don’t let it be Harry. She needed space from him if she were to contemplate Collingwood. The light breeze carried the scent of leather and cinnamon, and she knew it was Harry. Her pulse quickened, and her breath seemed to steal away from her.
She could always sense when he was near.
He stood directly behind her now and then brought a glass of wine around her. She stared down at the gloved hand, which held the glass and said, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
His low chuckle tightened her belly. “We are alone. I believe so you may call me Harry.”
He moved away, and she felt an instant chill. After her sipping her wine, she said, “We shouldn’t be out here alone, Harry.”
“It is far from the first time we’ve been on this terrace alone. Besides, I want to hear about your dance with Collingwood.” He casually leaned against the balustrade and then looked at her. “Was it enjoyable?”
“Yes, he is a very nice man. And your dance with Miss Bigby?”
“She did nothing but giggle most of the time.” He sipped his wine. “It occurred to me while dancing with Miss Bigby that you and I have never danced. How is that possible?”
Louisa frowned in thought. He was right. In seven years, they had never danced together. “I suppose we were usually outside conversing.”
“Miss Drake, you should not be out here alone with
the Duke!”
Louisa turned at the sound of Jane Bigby’s high-pitched voice. “Good evening again, Miss Bigby. I suppose you are right that the we shouldn’t be here alone. But we are dear friends, and it is one of the few times we can speak with each other. We are in view of the windows, so there is nothing scandalous.”
“Friends?” Jane gaped as if the concept of talking with a man other than for a marriage proposal was mad. “What do you speak to each other of?”
