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Penelope’s eyes found Ewan’s at that moment. She lent him a secret smile, apparently grateful for his bizarre sarcasm.
“Good evening, Marta,” Lord Remington said. He bowed his head and shot a direct gaze her way.
String instruments swelled to brew up another song. Lord Remington’s lips opened, assuredly to demand Marta for a dance. However, suddenly, Ewan found himself blurt, “Marta! Please, do me the honour of dancing with me. I know the dogs will surely run after you immediately afterwards. But as your handsome cousin, I believe it my right to take you around first.” He closed his right eyelid swiftly, in her direction—a wink to assert his deception towards his mother and Lord Remington. Marta’s laughter fluttered.
“You’re utterly shameless, darling Ewan,” she said. She turned her eyes towards Lord Remington and said, “I suppose I’ve nothing to do but agree to that sort of request.”
Ewan collected his cousin. Together, they swept off across the ballroom, leaving the remaining three in a strange half-circle, void of proper conversation. Marta burst into laughter, her eyes shining.
“You knew he was prepared to ask me to dance in only a few seconds more,” she said.
“Of course I did,” Ewan assured her. “And I wanted to save you. I know how little interest you have in him.”
“I know it’s only a temporary solution, but I truly am grateful,” Marta said. “He feels like a wolf, hunting me.”
“Don’t insinuate that you’re some sort of small woodland creature,” Ewan returned. “That’s outside the bound of reason. You’re a strong and capable creature…”
“A woman in a man’s world,” Marta returned with a sigh.
Ewan and Marta flung their feet through the gorgeous movements. After a long pause, Marta said, “He doesn’t feel anything for her anymore, correct?”
“I assume you mean my mother and Lord Remington? That affair ended years ago,” Ewan affirmed.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Ah! I suppose you mean Baldwin and that red-headed miracle of a woman,” Ewan said.
“Now you’re trying to play up my ravenous jealousy,” she said, smiling faintly.
“Baldwin wants nothing to do with her. That is a fact,” Ewan said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“But you have some interest. Don’t you?” Marta asked.
“This intuition you think you have. It’s monstrous,” Ewan returned. “You believe yourself to be in tune with all the world.”
“Aren’t I?” Marta asked, chuckling.
“Perhaps,” Ewan affirmed. “If you must feel yourself to be correct at all times, I will allow you this small confidence. Penelope does strike me. She can be incredibly obstinate, surely. But there’s something about being one of the only people in the world who make her smile like that. All Baldwin ever did for her was fill her with rage.”
“I can’t imagine you bringing such darkness to a woman’s heart,” Marta returned.
“You flatter me yet again,” Ewan remarked.
Marta bit down on her lower lip, a clear sign of her frantic beating heart. “I cannot envision a healthy way out of this wretched evening. The object of my dear love is only just yonder, and yet your mother’s watchful eye will ensure that I remain in the arms of the Duke.”
“There is still a great deal of time between this day and whatever marriage my mother presumes to be scheming,” Ewan said. “Enjoy yourself. Remain light and confident and sure. Perhaps soon, Baldwin will discover a way to prove to my mother his worth in your life. Perhaps soon, she will see the true darkness that lurks within Lord Remington’s heart.”
The song ended far too quickly, casting both Ewan and Marta back to the anxiety-ridden arenas of their proper lives. The moment they returned to the group, Lord Remington hurried towards them and demanded a dance with Marta. She accepted with a resigned look upon her face. As she strung her arm through his, she cast her eyes towards Penelope and said, “You look quite beautiful today, Penelope. I dare say my cousin would be pleased to take you onto the floor with us.”
A shimmer of pink flashed across Penelope’s cheeks. Ewan flashed his hand across his hair and tugged it, then said, “I would enjoy a dance if it pleases you.”
“I thought the likes of Ewan Thompson would never deign to ask,” Penelope said.
“Ah! Am I so entirely pompous?” he returned.
Penelope didn’t answer and instead swept her arm through his and allowed him to guide her onto the floor. As they left, he made eye contact with Baldwin, who looked miserable, shadowed. He gave a firm nod, an assertion that it was quite all right with him that Ewan danced with Penelope. Immediately after, he cast a longing look towards Marta on the dance floor. Marta had her face lifted towards Lord Remington, who appeared to be in the midst of whatever grand tale he assumed would impress her the most. Ewan’s stomach shifted.
He eased Penelope towards the couple to dance close enough to hear.
