Chapter 10

Nicholas danced with two other young ladies and one older, married woman before his supper dance with Lady Mercy. Lady Mercy seemed to be much more comfortable in ballrooms than she was in drawing rooms. At least, his drawing room at any rate. Gone was the quiet young woman who didn't meet his eye. Instead she was smiling at nearly everyone.

Perhaps it was the music or her obvious love of dancing, but when he approached her and her parents to claim her for his set, Lady Mercy turned toward him with her lips turned up as if she were happy to see him. Two smiles in one evening. This may be his new way of measuring the success of an event.

Her mother smiled even broader, and her father's face was cautious but welcoming. Lady Mercy dropped a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. The movement caught Nicholas by surprise. It was almost childlike, but the decision to kiss her mother in front of a large crowd was also remarkably mature. Lady Mercy didn't hide her childlike nature to impress those around her. He had tried to understand what it was that drew him to her, and in that moment, it hit him.

Lady Mercy was secure and comfortable with who she was.

He wasn't sure he knew anyone who was comfortable with who they were. Patience was a prime candidate now, but before she'd married Ottersby, she'd run off to become a maid, for heaven's sake. That hardly showed an understanding of who she was. But Lady Mercy didn't shy away from her emotions or apologize for not acting as Society would have her act. Whether she was crying at a stranger's funeral, listening in at doorways, or losing herself as she danced, she displayed an indominable spirit unfettered by expectations of the people around her.

He held out a hand, and when she reached for it, smiling in that way that lit up the space around her, he pitied the rest of the men in the room.

Their first dance was a Scotch reel, and as soon as they lined up, Lord Bryant and his wife lined up next to them, completing the foursome for the dance. He would have rather danced with strangers so he could focus all his attentions on Lady Mercy, but Lord and Lady Bryant weren't the type of couple that were easily ignored. Patience fancied them to be great friends. Nicholas could do without the pretentious lord who, before he'd married Lady Bryant, had managed to flirt with not only Nicholas's sister but his mother as well.

Nicholas stepped forward and tipped his head toward Lady Mercy. "Have you been introduced to Lord and Lady Bryant?"

She shook her head and raised an eyebrow at the couple. "He is dancing with his wife?"

Nicholas scoffed. "His reputation still follows him. I doubt his wife would want him dancing with anyone else."

Lady Mercy's eyes flashed. "It looks to me as though he wouldn't want to dance with anyone else either."

Nicholas turned to see Lord Bryant whispering in Lady Bryant's ear, his lips dangerously close to his wife's neck.

Nicholas blinked and looked away. "Lord Bryant has never been one to adhere to societal rules."

Lady Mercy pressed her lips together as if she were fighting a smile. "So I have heard."

"He is—perhaps unfortunately—a close family friend. I will introduce you."

Nicholas stepped back to his position across from Lady Mercy. He turned to Lord Bryant, who was now touching the bottom curl of his wife's hair. Nicholas cleared his throat loudly. Lord Bryant turned, and a devilishly crooked grin sprouted on his face. "Harrington." He strode two steps forward and grasped Nicholas by the shoulder. But his eyes only held Nicholas's for a moment before shifting to Lady Mercy. One solitary eyebrow lifted before he returned his gaze to Nicholas, tipping his head to one side in anticipation of an introduction.

The man was married. Happily married. Still, a ridiculous urge to pummel him rose up in Nicholas's chest. Why had Nicholas offered to introduce them? But it was too late now. Rules of Society, like introductions, were to be followed, and Nicholas knew how to follow rules. Thank goodness, otherwise Nicholas might have been tempted to drag Lady Mercy away to the corridor again so he could have those smiles of hers to himself. That would put a hasty end to his pursuit of her. The last thing she'd want was a man who couldn't control himself. He pulled his shoulders back and remembered who he was. The Duke of Harrington. His father's son. "Lord Bryant, Lady Bryant, may I introduce you to Lady Mercy Rothschild, daughter of Lord and Lady Driarwood?"

Lord and Lady Bryant smiled warmly at Lady Mercy, but the music started forcing them to form a square and halt any more conversation. The Scotch reel was typically a favorite of his, as the steps were fast-paced and technical, and he was always precise with the bouncing movements. With Lady Mercy, however, he would have preferred a dance with more opportunities for speaking.

They took their first step, and Lady Mercy's feet flew to the beat of the reel, and her mouth blossomed into that radiant and inviting bow. How often had he snatched glimpses of that delightful curve of her lips as she danced with others? For the moment, her smile was his, and he wouldn't spend wasted time regretting the dance choice. He straightened his shoulders and paid particular attention to his feet. Lady Mercy was a dancing master, and at least in this, he would not disappoint.

He managed every step perfectly, until they formed a square with Lord Bryant and his wife. Lord Bryant's wicked grin, as he flashed his eyes toward Lady Mercy and back to Nicholas, made him misstep slightly. Nicholas cursed under his breath and redoubled his efforts.

The four of them took hands, and Nicholas found himself directly across from Lord Bryant. The man didn't take his eyes off him as they circled. Then, the dance changed, and for a brief moment, Nicholas had Lady Mercy to himself as they rotated a few quick turns, her hands in his. It was his moment to speak to her, if he wanted it. And he did want it. But apparently his brain had stopped functioning, and he could think of nothing to say.

The moment was gone almost as soon as it appeared, and instead he found himself with Lady Bryant's hands. "Lady Mercy seems lovely," Lady Bryant said, her smile broad. Nicholas nodded in agreement, but he was hardly attentive. From the corner of his eye, Lord Bryant was laughing with Lady Mercy.

"She is," Nicholas managed before they switched partners again and Lady Mercy's hands were back in his own.

Lady Mercy leaned forward while she danced. Apparently keeping track of her feet was not as hard for her as it was for him. "Lord Bryant thinks the world of your mother and sister. He is quite taken with them."

That was what Lord Bryant had been talking to her about? The women in his family? Nicholas cared about women. Ottersby and his father cared about women. But Lord Bryant had some strange obsession with them. "Lord Bryant seems to be taken with most women."

Lady Mercy laughed. "I'm not certain that's fair."

Lady Bryant laughed to his side, and he glanced once at the two of them. At least the look in Lord Bryant's eye while speaking to his wife was quite different from the one he had given Lady Mercy. "Whether it is fair or not, it is generally true. However, I must begrudgingly admit there is no woman he cares about as much as his wife."

Lady Mercy snuck a glance at them and then returned her steady gaze to Nicholas. "I'm certain that is fair."

Then she was gone, and Nicholas found himself dancing across from Lord Bryant again, empty-handed. Their feet pounded out the last few bars of the reel, with the women laughing softly and he and Lord Bryant both perfectly executing the quick steps.

When the music stopped, Lady Mercy bowed to each of them and clapped her hands together. "That was wonderful. It was lovely to meet you, Lord and Lady Bryant." She walked toward Nicholas and took him by the arm.

Whatever distance Nicholas felt from Lady Mercy in their past encounters had melted away while dancing with her. With the music playing and their feet tapping out rhythms, Lady Mercy seemed wholly at ease.

He still had one more dance with her before dinner, and this one was a waltz.

He would be able to say more things to her during a waltz, and he would be the only man to make her laugh. But could he make her laugh? He could sometimes coax a laugh from Patience—however, it was often an unintentional occurrence.

Other couples were finding space on the floor, and some were headed to the refreshment table. He hadn't seen Lady Mercy stop dancing since the music began earlier in the evening. "Would you like any refreshment before our next dance?"

"Oh no." She shook her head with a smile. "I don't want to miss any of the dancing. Supper is directly after this one, and I'll have plenty of refreshment then."

She wanted to keep dancing with him. Her words lifted him even more than the bouncing notes of their previous reel had. He didn't want to miss any of their waltz either, although it was certainly not only because of the pleasure of dancing. He wanted his hand on her back and her arm on his shoulder. He wanted her mouth next to his cheek while she spoke to him, and most of all, he didn't want that time interrupted or shared.

They said their farewells to Lord and Lady Bryant. The eyes of the men and women nearby followed Nicholas and Lady Mercy back to the dance floor. Nicholas tried very hard to ignore the glint in Lady Bryant's eye. Nicholas couldn't remember the last time he had been anywhere near Lord Bryant, and the focus had remained on Nicholas. There was no reason anyone should be paying him more attention with Lady Mercy than they had with any of his other dance partners. He had paid all of his previous partners the proper respect.

But dancing with Lady Mercy was different, and apparently he wasn't hiding his feelings very well.

She smiled at him as he led her to a new location, away from the dancers already eyeing them. The outer edge wasn't much better, for here, not only the dancers, but the rest of the room watched them as well.

No matter. He would ignore them.

The quartet readied their instruments. Nicholas took a deep breath and placed his palm against the upper curve of her spine. The silk of her ballgown was warm even though his gloves. Lady Mercy settled in closer to him and placed one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. She smiled unabashedly up at him, as if he weren't a duke, not a suitor, not a friend. Simply another dance partner, and the person she was going to share her joy with for every single second the music played. That smile... that smile was making it difficult for him to remember to breathe.

The first strains of music started, and at the slightest movement of his leading hand, Lady Mercy was off.

Gone were any thoughts about their strange afternoon together, and gone were the thoughts of marriage and propriety. Nicholas's breath came back in full force. It had to. Lady Mercy was here to dance, and he would do his utmost to ensure she was not disappointed.

Nicholas had missed many dance lessons in his youth, but after he returned home from serving in the military, he'd hired a dance instructor on his own and had worked and rehearsed until he had every dance down perfectly. His waltz was flawless.

But dancing with Lady Mercy made his flawless steps feel stiff. While he executed steps and turns, she breathed life into them. Dancing was life. He had no doubt that after only a few bars, Nicholas faded from Lady Mercy's mind, and she was simply living and breathing the waltz.

He'd looked forward to speaking with her, but he hated to interrupt.

So, he didn't.

Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine what she was experiencing. A place of music, movement, and discovery. With his eyes closed, there was only her hand in his, his hand at her back, and her other hand resting feather soft on his arm.

He forgot his lessons, forgot to count the steps in his head. Instead he moved the two of them in circles drawn with sentiment instead of precision. It was as if they had the floor and the instruments to themselves, and nothing in the world could infiltrate their space.

Until a woman's skirt brushed up against his leg.

Nicholas whipped his eyes open. They had narrowly missed one couple, and another was angled in their direction. He quickly navigated a turn before he ran into anyone else.

What had he been thinking, dancing with his eyes closed? How was Lady Mercy supposed to enjoy her dance if he had them knocking about the room, disturbing other dancers? He glanced at Lady Mercy. The corners of her lips were lifted, and her eyes sparked with a look he knew all too well from Patience. His desire to make her laugh was about to be fulfilled.

"Do you often dance with your eyes closed?" Her voice was lilting, but at least she didn't laugh outright.

"No, I do not." His spine stiffened, and he started counting beats again.

She didn't press him, and after a moment, she relaxed back into the place she had been before—unaware of the world around them, simply following his lead and taking pleasure in the moment.

Nicholas did not follow her there. One of them needed to be mindful of those around them. And it had to be Nicholas. He went back to his counting and perfect steps. He'd have time to speak to her later, at dinner. For the moment, he'd concentrate only on executing a flawless waltz. Lady Mercy remained fluid, turning and dipping at the slightest of suggestions from Nicholas's fingers. Waltzing wasn't hard for Nicholas, but Lady Mercy made it particularly easy, as if moving to the beat of three counts was as simple as breathing.

The music stopped long before he was ready to finish dancing and long before he'd expected it to.

Nicholas led Lady Mercy to the dining hall. She had been at his side for two dances. Her delicate hand resting lightly on his arm should be familiar by now, yet it was anything but. The smallest of movements from her heightened his senses. Every place she touched him felt as though the universe lived in that space. If Mother's singing had kept him from concentrating on his work, what would having a lovely, vivacious woman in his home do to him?

Perhaps this whole marriage idea was a terrible one.

But a connection to Lady Mercy's family and the legitimacy a wife would bring to his title must outweigh his discomfort. Especially since he didn't want to give up the chance to connect himself to the brightest spot in any room.

He pulled back Lady Mercy's chair, and after she sat, he took the seat next to her.

She tipped her head toward him. "Thank you."

Two simple words, but whispered only to him. "You're welcome."

It was as if the two of them talked off a script. He was going to have to ask Ottersby for conversational advice. No, that was a terrible idea. Ottersby wasn't any better at conversation than he was. Worse, perhaps. But who else could he ask? Lord Bryant?

He would rather spend the rest of his life as a bachelor, listening to his mother sing.

Lady Mercy started removing her gloves, and his brain malfunctioned again.

She didn't do it gracefully. Instead, she ripped each glove off as if they had been suffocating her hands. She dropped them on the table without a second thought. He had a sudden vision of her arriving home after any outing, exuberant and impatient, pulling her gloves off with her teeth. He shook his head. It was a ridiculous thought, as if he could know how this woman acted in her own home. Still, he let his eyes dip to the tips of the soft leather of her gloves, and sure enough, there was a tooth-sized mark on the index finger of her right-handed glove.

Lady Mercy removed her gloves with her teeth. Was that the type of woman he wanted to marry?

She reached for her gloves and then set them in her lap gently, as if she had remembered where she was, and smiled up at him as though she hadn't just exposed an intimate detail about her life.

A tiny, delicate chain of silver hung on her wrist. It was so different from the bulky jewels she typically wore. Throughout supper, the bracelet continued to catch his eye. He asked if she would like meat and served her when proper, but other than that, they hardly spoke to each other. As he placed a pudding on her plate, he turned to her. "Your bracelet."

Her hand covered it, and her eyes went wide as if she were surprised it was even there. "Yes?"

"I like it."

And then she laughed.

Men and women turned at the sound of it. They always did. He always did. Lady Mercy's laugh was like a spring bubbling up from out of a mountain side. As surprising as it was refreshing.

He tipped his whole body to one side in the chair and lowered his voice. "What is so amusing about me liking your bracelet?"

She tried to soften her smile, but pulling her lips together simply made her cheeks tighten in a cheeky, conspiratorial manner. "Mama is convinced the only reason you noticed me at the Stafford ball was because of the emeralds."

Ah. "I suppose you didn't tell her about our other meeting then? In the corridor?"

"Heavens, no. I was trying to listen in on Papa. I couldn't tell her about that."

She had been trying to listen in on her father? Why? Was the man trying to be rid of her? That is what she'd been listening for, wasn't it? Parents trying to get rid of their children. "It wasn't your jewelry that made me notice you." Not any jewelry that was made by man, at any rate.

Lady Mercy's eyebrows lowered, and she tipped her head to one side like she was expected him to expound. But he'd burn down this building before admitting that her skin had kept him up at night. She raised an eyebrow, and he suddenly found the silverware to be quite fascinating.

A moment later, Lady Mercy sighed and continued on without her answer. "Well, Mama and Papa are very grateful you did notice me. Even if you do like my maid's gift better than the emeralds my father gave Mama."

Her voice had the slightest hint of sharpness in it when she mentioned her parents. Lord and Lady Driarwood had seemed extremely loving. Not at all the type that are in a hurry to rid themselves of a daughter. But if they were? He caught her face in profile as she smiled at a woman across the table from her. What if he hadn't been there in that corridor that evening? What if she had met someone else? Whoever it may have been would have become enchanted by her. It was impossible not to be.

That man might have been sitting next to her now, glancing at her gloves and thinking about how delicate and dangerous her hand seemed in his, like he'd caught a fledgling sparrow and was holding it, concentrating on not gripping too tight or too loose, because either option could lead to disaster.

He wasn't holding her hand anymore, and yet that fear, fear of losing her, still hung thick in the air around him. He took a deep breath and shoved those fears aside. She was here with him, and he should be enjoying it. As long as his manners remained impeccable, she wouldn't have any reason to see behind his facade of propriety and glimpse the uncontrolled man of overzealous passion he'd been with Lady Plymton. He cleared his throat and nodded toward the line of silver. "Your maid gave you a bracelet?"

"Yes, although I begged her not to. The little imp probably knew what she was doing though. There is no possibility of her losing her position as long as I have this present."

"So it was a bribe?" An expensive bribe. The bracelet could be sold for months' worth of work.

"No. She isn't really an imp, and she knows her position is secure. It was a gift from her heart when I promoted her from maid-of-all-work to my lady's maid. Her mother had given it to her as a means to feed herself if she couldn't find a position here in England. Once she became my maid, she no longer feared going hungry and wanted me to have it." She stroked the chain softly with her thumb. "I wear it always, even when Mama claims the silver doesn't match the other jewelry she wants me to wear."

"A woman who despises emeralds but loves a chain of silver. Must you always surprise me?"

"Did I say I despise the emeralds? I love them. They were a present for Mama, given long before it would have seemed proper." Lady Mercy smiled. "I could never despise anything that represented my parents' love. If I showed them any disdain, it is only because they are difficult to dance in. That is their only flaw."

"A grave blemish indeed."

* * *

Lord Bryant was the only man foolish enough to remove Nicholas's gloves from the seat across from him in the cardroom after supper. "You don't mind, do you? You weren't saving this seat for any reason?"

Nicholas lifted his paper back up to reading level and grunted. "Only for some peace and quiet."

"Oh well." Lord Bryant scoffed. "I can provide that."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the baron but didn't bother refuting the man's unsubstantiated claim.

Lord Bryant was quiet for the space of one paragraph before his hand reached to the top of Nicholas's paper and pulled it down. "Tell me about this Lady Mercy you were dancing with. She seems lovely."

"Come to think of it, I was waiting for someone. Ottersby. He should be here any moment. Perhaps you could torment some other person in this room."

"I don't think I particularly like anyone else in this room."

"How fortunate for me."

Lord Bryant gave him a dashing grin, as if to say, True. You are fortunate , and then he leaned forward over the table. "But I did like Lady Mercy. I wasn't certain you did though. Or, rather, I was quite certain you did. I just wasn't certain the young lady would be able to deduce your intentions from your actions."

Nicholas sighed heavily. This was the last thing he needed. Advice from a rake. "I don't think there is another man in England who possesses your ability to make their interest so blatantly obvious to the women around them. Do not hold me to your standard on that. You and I are very different creatures."

Bryant cocked an eyebrow. "Are we?"

Nicholas went cold. His past indiscretions were public enough at the time, but since the death of his father, no one had dared mention them to him. "We are. I learned my lesson from the follies of my youth. You, however, learned a very different one."

Lord Bryant stilled, and his ever-present smile faltered. "Our lessons were very different ones, Harrington. It is no wonder they yielded dissimilar results."

Blast. He was correct. It was a simple matter to forget how serious Lord Bryant had been before his first wife had died. The person he'd become soon after her death was so much louder than the quiet young man Nicholas had known in his youth. Still, the fact that Lord Bryant's follies had started when he was older and wiser did not make the two men similar. Not at all.

"I don't claim to know what you went through in your past. Only I in mine."

"And I don't claim to know all that happened in yours, but I will say this: if you want to marry that woman, you are going to have to woo her, and I'm not certain you are doing that yet."

Nicholas took another quick glance around the room. "You speak too freely."

"And you don't speak freely enough."

"I never will, not when it could damage a young lady's reputation."

"Or your reputation."

"Yes. Unlike you, I need mine."

"Oh, I needed mine as well. But reputations aren't what we should be worried about damaging. It's the people behind the reputations who need to be protected."

Now the man was talking gibberish. Wasn't that the same thing? How could Nicholas protect a person without protecting their reputation? He should have put more than his gloves down on the chair to dissuade anyone from sitting near him. "Are you insinuating that I might take advantage of Lady Mercy's person?"

Lord Bryant scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Your Grace. I'm insinuating that you will ignore her person completely in order to pay homage to her reputation."

"Trust me. No part of Lady Mercy is at risk of being ignored. On the contrary. Which is why I must always be diligent in protecting her reputation. If I am not, I fear a repeat of the mistakes of my youth could damage both her person and her reputation. Not that it is any concern of yours."

"I do tend to concern myself a bit too much with matters of the heart. My wife would tell me to leave you in peace."

"I've always known your wife was an intelligent woman. Her only lack of judgment was marrying you."

"Now, that is something we can unequivocally agree on."