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“Mostly New York, but I’ve also spent time in India.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t miss a step. “Those are widely divergent destinations, I would imagine.”
Mr. Northcott’s smile was verging on smug. “Not as widely divergent as you would think. And the reason might also explain why you haven’t heard of me. I’m quite vulgar, if you must know.” The jaunty grin that accompanied his words made Rosabel’s eyebrows rise even as she answered his grin with a smile of her own.
“Vulgar, you say? You hide it well.”
He lowered his voice and leaned closer, as though to share a secret into her ear. “I’ve involved myself in trade.”
Her light laugh widened his grin. “Have I shocked you, my lady?”
“Was that your aim?”
He shrugged. “I’m just trying to take your stock.”
Now Rosabel did feel herself stiffening. “Much like a gentleman would check the teeth of their purchase at Tattersalls, Mr. Northcott?”
His laugh was louder than the voices around them, drawing many eyes toward them. Rosabel contained her sigh but wondered if, perhaps, she had been wrong in thinking a mister would be to her taste. She met his shrewd gaze and was surprised by the intelligent surveillance she received from him.
“It would seem my sister-in-law was quite correct. My time outside of Society has turned me into the bushman my father has accused me of being. I apologize, my lady. I promise you, under the rough edges, a gentleman does reside. If you would permit it, I would like to take you for a drive tomorrow afternoon.”
Bel kept her gaze fixed on his face, no longer meeting his eyes, but not allowing her own to stray in search of Wexford either. She offered Mr. Northcott a brief smile.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” she answered with at least some truth in her words. She wanted to find a mister to court her, she reminded herself, widening her smile a little to lend some enthusiasm to her acceptance of his invitation.
“I shall look forward to it,” he said as he bowed over her hand at the end of their dance.
Feeling as though her face was possibly frozen in a questionable expression, Rosabel left the ballroom in search of a retiring room. A quick survey of her reflection showed that nothing was out of order anywhere on her person. Even her face was the right colour, and her expression seemed sufficiently pleasant. But she still felt strangely dissatisfied. She should be delighted. An eligible, charming, handsome man had finally displayed interest in her. And it appeared to be genuine interest in her, rather than her dowry or connections. He didn’t even seem to be thoroughly enraptured with her appearance, despite his comment about wanting to dance with the prettiest woman. It seemed almost like something he said to everyone. Which was actually somewhat charming, in Rosabel’s opinion. Almost as though it was a side point. Like he didn’t really notice appearance and thus said it to everyone. She liked that he wanted to take stock of her, as he said, even though he was rather blunt and forward about it. He was certainly different from the rest of the Society gentlemen she encountered. Which was a good thing, Rosabel reminded herself.
But he wasn’t Wexford.
Which also should have been a good thing but was strangely deflating. With one last glance at her reflection, Rosabel shook her head at herself. She was being contradictory and rather ridiculous. Wexford was decidedly not for her. She knew that. He knew that. There was no conceivable reason that he would even enter her thoughts when she was contemplating going for a drive with another gentleman.
With a final examination and a slight nod, Rosabel returned to the ballroom. She spent the rest of the ball on the dance floor before her mother collected her for their move to the next ball. She assured herself that she was pleased to have avoided Wexford, but she didn’t sense any conviction in the assurance.
∞∞∞
James had arrived late to the ball again. It seemed, at times, that he was always a little behind. Once he found a way to contain Prescott, though, he was sure it would settle down. At least until the next issue cropped up, he thought cynically, as his gaze scanned the assembled crowds.
As usual, his gaze landed upon Lady Rosabel. She looked well, he was relieved to see. None the worse for wear, it would appear. She did, perhaps, appear a trifle pale, James thought with some concern. He couldn’t quite read her eyes from where he was standing, but it didn’t appear as though there was a great deal of emotion in her expression. That told him that her animation with him that morning had been unusual, and she had returned to her more typical, contained display. On the one hand, it was heart-warming to think she had felt sufficiently comfortable with him to express herself freely, but on the other, he was sad for her that she had returned to her former self of controlled surface expression. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
While he was watching her and trying not to appear as though he were, James saw Mr. Northcott approach her. The speculative gleam in Rosabel’s eyes made James want to laugh. Finally, a suitable mister had come to claim her. But it wasn’t really a laughing matter, James realized as the handsome couple circled the dance floor. James didn’t know Northcott well, but he knew the Everleigh family well. From what he knew about this younger son, he was a decent fellow. But the thought of Rosabel finally making her match didn’t sit well with James.
Turning away, unable to watch any longer, James found his way to their host’s library, where he was sure there would be a card table or two set up. Perhaps he might be able to further his own agenda and something of benefit could come out of this fiasco at the very least.
James nearly rolled his eyes when he saw that Lord Heatherington was present. He caught himself and ensured there was a welcoming smile upon his face as he approached Heatherington’s table.
“Wexford,” the older man boomed; the empty glass beside him wasn’t necessary to reveal the man had already imbibed a significant amount of their host’s generosity.
“Heatherington,” James acknowledged with a nod.
“Join us,” Heatherington said, as another gentleman pulled out a chair for the duke.
“Thank you,” James acknowledged, happy to see there were enough noblemen present that he would be able to address several issues at once. He settled into the chair, cataloguing the different items he needed to discuss with which gentleman. With a smile, he made sure to keep any smugness off his face. Some would be less inclined to cooperate with him if they knew how much it meant to him.
