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Chapter Nine
Wexford was running late. He had stayed too long at his previous engagement and now was just arriving at the Rose Park ball. He was certain the Shertons should already have arrived. James only hoped there were at least a couple waltzes left. He needed to speak with Rosabel, and the waltz was the only time they would be able to have a private conversation.
Because he was late, the hosts were no longer receiving, which was just fine with James. He even wished he didn't need to be announced, but the butler took his job very seriously. Because of the volume of the music, though, and the hubbub of conversation, only a few eyes turned in his direction when the butler so seriously informed the throngs that the Duke of Wexford had arrived. None of those eyes belonged to Rosabel.
Had they not yet arrived? Had Lady Vigilia been mistaken in where they would be attending?That wasn’t very likely. A young woman in her first official Season was sure to know where they were going each evening, even one who didn’t seem terribly eager to marry, such as Lady Vigilia. Despite her seeming disinterest in marriage, she had seemed eager to attend balls, so James was reasonably sure she would know which ball they were to attend that evening. For a moment his heart was seized with the thought that something might have happened to a member of the family, perhaps the earl’s mother. He couldn’t have explained why that affected him so strongly, but he dismissed that thought when he remembered that Lady Vigilia had also said they were going to that same lady’s home for supper before the ball. James relaxed. The supper was probably running even later than the commitments he had been engaged with.
Advancing into the crowded ballroom, James thought of wandering into one of the side chambers and engaging in a round of cards to pass the time. It was always an excellent way to negotiate with some of the older opponents from the House. But he knew he would be unable to concentrate as he should until he spoke with Rosabel. He needed to know why she had been so intent upon his conversation with Lord Prescott. Until then, negotiating over a hand of cards was outside of his skill set.
Just that thought put him on edge. No woman should have this power over him. Especially not some debutante, who probably knew nothing of import. Perhaps she had been admiring the cut of the other man’s coat or something equally innocent and superficial.
He quickly dismissed that thought. Rosabel might be many things, but superficial didn’t seem to be one of them.
But did she know anything?
That was the big question he needed an answer to.
He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise and tingle right before the stately household chatelaine announced:
“Lord and Lady Sherton, Lady Rosabel, Lady Hilaria, and Lady Vigilia.”
They were even later than he had been, thus also foregoing the reception line. Wexford turned and watched as they made their way down the stairs into the ballroom. The earl and his wife didn’t seem to be in the least bothered by the attention they were garnering. They seemed to be engrossed in conversation as the countess leaned on her husband’s arm and spoke as though telling him a secret. It might very well have been if one judged by the earl’s expression. It would seem he was very much in favour of listening to his wife’s secrets.
James allowed his gaze to drift to the daughters. Sunny-dispositioned Vigilia seemed a little embarrassed by the attention but was happy to be able to spot her friends in the crowd, as she had the advantage of height on the stairs. She waved as she neared the bottom and hurried away, being swallowed by the crowd. Hilaria seemed perturbed, but that didn’t seem to be in the least unusual, so James ignored it, allowing his attention to land and remain upon Rosabel. From the expressionless cast of her face, James would suppose she was uncomfortable. He couldn’t guess if it was the crowds, the attention she was garnering, or perhaps something that had taken place before their arrival.
He had used his time since his own arrival to ascertain from the orchestra when they would be playing waltzes throughout the night. There weren’t many, as it was still controversial. He could hear that one was just about to start. Fortuitous timing, he congratulated himself. Stepping toward the staircase, James was able to intercept Rosabel as she reached the bottom of the staircase, the last of her family to do so, before any other gentlemen could approach her.
“Good evening, my lady, might I have the honor of your hand in this dance?”
A strange expression he couldn’t interpret flitted across her face before it returned to its usual neutrality. James would almost think she was annoyed by his question. She hesitated a moment before placing her hand in his outstretched grasp.
“How pleasant, Your Grace. It sounds as though it is to be a waltz.”
James tightened his grasp on her hand, pulling her closer to him and into the flow of the traffic on the crowded dance floor as others joined in. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t too crowded for private conversation if they kept their voices low.
“How was your supper with the dowager?”
“If you’ve ever eaten with her, you’ll know that her kitchen staff are remarkable. We were very well fed.”
James was surprised that she only commented on the food.
“And how was the company?”
Her gaze, which she had been keeping focused on his chin, lifted suddenly to meet his. There was a glimmer of amusement there, which he found inexplicably reassuring.
“The company had its moments,” was all she would say before asking a question of her own. “How has your evening been?”
“It has gotten better since you’ve arrived.”
His flirtatious comment caused the usually stoic young woman to have a hot red splash across her cheekbones.
“Why are you attempting to charm me now, Your Grace? You didn’t even have a moment to spare for me this afternoon.” From the expression deep in her eyes, James suspected she hadn’t meant to admit to being hurt by his indifference. He thrilled for a moment before he reminded himself that he didn’t want a complicated wife, and she wanted a simpler life than he could offer. But he still had to find out what she might know.
“That isn’t even a little bit true,” he countered, surprising her into expressing a genuine reaction, as her eyes widened before blinking slowly and a frown furrowed her brow for a moment before she caught herself and smoothed out her expression once more.
“Whatever do you mean?” Again, her gaze was fixed somewhere in the region of his chin. James wondered if she had figured out that he could read her better than others seemed to be able to. It had only been a few days but already, he felt as though he had been well acquainted with her all his life.
Of course, he had known of her all her life. She was several years younger than him, but her father had been associated with his father for as long as James could remember. James could actually remember his father speaking of Sherton on several occasions. They had been respectful, admiring comments for the most part, even though the earl was several years younger than James’ father. But despite that, James had never found himself much in Rosabel’s company. And it hadn’t been until now that she had truly captured his attention. He wished she hadn’t. It was most inconvenient, he thought with a sigh.
