Chapter Fourteen

M irella found herself shaking with anger, and she slowed her pace, trying to get her emotions under control. She saw a footman and asked him directions to the retiring room, wanting to get away from the large group of people milling about.

Going down the stairs, she saw several ladies exiting the room the footman had steered her toward, and she smiled politely at them as they passed and she entered. Several women primped, holding hand mirrors. She went to one of the curtains which had been raised and stepped inside, lowering it, thankful for a few moments of privacy as she relieved herself.

Why had Lord Bridgewater interfered with her walk on the terrace?

He had ruined a perfectly nice time with a man whose name she could not even recall at the moment—because her anger at the marquess had wiped everything else from her memory.

Did he believe simply because he’d had the audacity to kiss her that he now possessed her?

The thought riled Mirella even further, and she forced herself to breathe slowly, in and out. One thing was certain. She could never have anything to do with him again. If, by some chance, Aunt Matty asked Lord and Lady Benton to tea and their nephew accompanied them, Mirella would announce that she had other plans because she refused to sit in the same room with Lord Bridgewater.

As far as dancing the final number of the evening with him? It was totally out of the question. She hoped no one had realized they were arguing. Thankfully, they both had kept their voices down, but he had taken hold of her wrist. The supper room had been emptying by that point, and she prayed no one had noticed that exchange between them. He said he had worried for her reputation, but his own actions had put hers into jeopardy. She would not exacerbate it by dancing with him.

Finally calm now, Mirella came from behind the curtain, seeing only one other lady present now.

It was the beauty she had spied Lord Bridgewater with earlier in the evening. The young lady smoothed her hair as she looked into a hand mirror held by a maid, slipping a pin from her hair to make an adjustment and then sliding it back into place.

Mirella went and washed her hands, accepting the small cloth given to her by another maid as a third removed the basin of water she had used.

She couldn’t help it. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and so she moved toward this woman.

“I so admire the pearl earrings you are wearing, my lady,” Mirella said, striking up a conversation between them. She knew it wasn’t quite proper etiquette, since they had yet to be introduced, but she saw no harm in doing so since no other guests were present in the room.

The young woman smiled, and Mirella was struck by how flawless this woman’s skin was and how even more beautiful she appeared at close range.

“Thank you,” the woman said crisply. “They belonged to my mother. She is gone now.”

“I am sorry you lost her, my lady,” she said sympathetically, knowing how distraught she would be if she had been in this same position and lost her own mother.

The woman shrugged. “They look better on me than they ever did on her,” she said matter-of-factly,” shocking Mirella to her core.

“We do not know one another,” the woman said. “Since there is no one here to introduce us, I will tell you that I am Miss Jacinda Bowles.”

Maintaining her poise, she said, “And I am Lady Mirella Strong.”

Miss Bowles’ nose crinkled. “You were with a duke earlier. Yes, the Duke of Seaton, if I recall correctly.”

“Seaton is my brother,” she said proudly.

Again, Miss Bowles’ nose crinkled, and Mirella read the condemnation on her face.

“He involves himself in trade,” Miss Bowles said disapprovingly. “You will have a difficult time finding a husband because of it, even if he is a duke.”

This woman’s behavior was outrageous, angering Mirella even more than Lord Bridgewater’s had.

“Yes, it is true that His Grace is actively involved in Strong Shipping, which was founded by my family several generations ago.”

Miss Bowles pursed her lips. “He is that duke,” she said dismissively.

“What do you mean by that, my lady?” Mirella challenged.

Clucking her tongue and shaking her head, the young woman said, “All of Polite Society knows of your brother and his most improper duchess. How she was shunned by the ton when she wed beneath her—and shunned further once she began soiling her hands by running her husband’s business when she became a widow. Why, I have heard rumors that Her Grace still runs it!”

Mirella felt the need to defend her family, and yet she did not want to sink into the mire Miss Bowles rolled about in. “Yes, Her Grace is active in making decisions regarding Neptune Shipping, which my stepfather helps her to run.”

“Well, since it appears that you are making your come-out, Lady Mirella, I hope that you can acquire a husband quickly before they look too deeply into your family.” Miss Bowles patted her hair. “As for myself, my reputation is spotless. Why, I have danced with a great deal of important men this evening, and they all have told me how marvelous I am.”

Miss Bowles went on to toss out several names, many of whom Mirella herself had already partnered with tonight.

She did not like this woman one whit. Miss Bowles boasted, gossiped, and judged without thought. She was a type of poison which Mirella determined to avoid in the future at all costs.

Before she could excuse herself, however, Miss Bowles said, “I did partner with my neighbor for the supper dance. Lord Bridgewater. He has turned into quite a handsome fellow, if I do say so myself.”

So, they were neighbors. Perhaps that was the only reason Lord Bridgewater asked Miss Bowles to dance. If he knew her true nature—and knew what a sour person she was—he might have tried to do Miss Bowles a favor by filling a spot on her dance card.

“I had not seen the marquess for many years before this evening,” continued Miss Bowles, dispelling Mirella’s theory. “Not since I was a child. I am pleased how he turned out, even having served in the army. Such a distasteful thing for a man to do.”

She clamped her lips together, knowing she must watch herself around Miss Bowles. This opinionated female had no idea of how the British army kept their country safe.

Again, Miss Bowles rambled on. “My father and Lord Bridgewater were quite close, friends from the cradle. My brother holds the title now. Papa and the previous Lord Bridgewater were foolish enough to race one another when they were deep in their cups. Fortunately, that scandal occurred a couple of years ago. It will not affect my opportunities of making a suitable match this Season. I am stunningly beautiful. I will have my choice of husband.”

Mirella knew this woman had exceptional looks without being told so by Miss Bowles. It was all she offered, though. Mirella could only wonder how many men would vie for Miss Jacinda Bowles’ hand. She had already seen into this woman’s heart. Miss Bowles was a braggart, unsympathetic and egotistical. Not a person Mirella would ever associate herself with. She could not even bring herself to mouth a polite phrase and tell this woman it had been nice to meet her.

Instead, she said, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Bowles.”

Quitting the retiring room, her nerves unsettled by her encounter with Miss Bowles, Mirella could not help but wonder if Lord Bridgewater had danced with Miss Bowles out of obligation, seeing their fathers had been close. Miss Bowles had been so dismissive of her father and the phaeton accident, which Mirella knew had deeply affected Lord Bridgewater.

Should she warn him what a viper this woman was?

No, she decided she should have nothing more to do with him. Let the marquess dance with whomever he chose to do so. If he spent more than two minutes with Miss Bowles, he would learn for himself just how spiteful and selfish she was. It was not her responsibility to watch over him.

She returned upstairs to the ballroom and joined Sophie and Aunt Matty, who stood talking with Lady Benton and a few others.

“I see the men have abandoned the ladies,” she said quietly to her aunt.

“Yes, I am certain the card room is packed now with gentlemen ready to escape all the dancing and gossip.” Aunt Matty smiled mischievously. “I do believe, however, that those same men gossip even more than their wives and sisters and mothers do.”

“May I speak to you a moment privately?” Mirella asked.

“Certainly, my dear,” her aunt said, slipping her arm through Mirella’s as they began to take a turn about the ballroom.

“I am curious, Aunt Matty. Do you know anything about a Miss Jacinda Bowles?”

Her aunt cocked her head, thinking a moment. “Bowles. Jacinda Bowles,” she repeated. “I cannot say that I do. Why do you ask?”

“Apparently, her family and Lord Bridgewater’s are neighbors, and she is making her come-out this Season. I met her in the retiring room just now, and my impression of her was, shall we say, less than favorable.”

“Oh, I do know the family, now that I can place them. Flora has met them a few times during visits to Bridgefield. From what I can recall her saying, the current Lord Bridgewater’s father and Lord Hampton were constant companions from their youth. Flora mentioned that her sister despised Lady Hampton and thought the two Hampton children to be spoiled brats. Was that your impression of Miss Bowles?”

“Yes, Aunt. I admired her earrings and complimented her on them. She casually mentioned they were her mother’s, and that her mother had passed, not expressing any sadness at all. The same was true when she spoke of her father. Frankly, I found Miss Bowles to be quite self-centered and opinionated.”

Mirella spied Miss Bowles and said, “She is with her brother now, Aunt Matty,” and told her aunt where to look.

“My, she is most beautiful,” Aunt Matty murmured. “She will certainly turn the heads of many gentlemen. Despite what you have told me about her lack of character, Miss Bowles will, no doubt, have a large number of suitors based on her looks alone. Most ton marriages are business arrangements, Mirella. They are made for financial reasons or to increase a family’s social status within Polite Society.”

Her aunt paused, her gaze meeting Mirella’s. “You are not expected to make that kind of marriage, my dear. Your mother has always wanted a love match for all you girls. I know it is what you want for yourself, as well. That is why James has told you not to rush into anything or feel pressured to accept the first offer which you receive. He and Sophie are set on you finding happiness and lasting love.”

“I do want that for myself, Aunt Matty.”

They continued making a circle about the ballroom, her aunt asking about various gentlemen Mirella had danced with and the kind of impressions they had made upon her. She mentioned how several had asked to call the following day.

“It is a bit too hard to converse during a lively reel or country dance. That is why I look forward to tomorrow, so that I might speak with these gentlemen individually.”

“They will not stay long,” Aunt Matty warned. “Gentlemen are taught that a quarter-hour is long enough for a visit, and they are to take their leave after that amount of time.”

“Why so short a visit?” she asked, perplexed.

Her aunt chuckled. “Possibly because they have more than one young lady that they wish to call upon,” she said knowingly. “But I do hope the gentlemen who choose to come and visit tomorrow will enjoy their brief time with you.”

Just before they returned to their group, her aunt asked, “Is your dance with Lord Bridgewater coming up soon? I know he signed your programme earlier this evening.”

“No,” she said abruptly.

Aunt Matty’s brows shot up. “That was a quick response. And not the one I anticipated, Mirella. I saw Lord Bridgewater sign your dance card.”

She sighed. “He did—but we have had a falling out, Aunt. I asked that he not approach me for the dance.”

“I see,” Aunt Matty said. She patted Mirella’s hand before slipping her own away. “If you wish to speak about this further tomorrow, I can come to the music room so that we have privacy.”

Mirella wasn’t certain just how much of what had occurred she might want to share with her aunt.

“I will think on it. If I need to ask your advice, I will let you know.”

The musicians had returned to the dais, and a tall, gangly earl came to claim Mirella for their dance.

Despite appearing to be ever so awkward, the earl danced wonderfully, ending the dance with a smile and asking to call upon her tomorrow afternoon. She readily agreed, liking him quite a bit and interested to learn more about this gentleman.

She danced every number for the next two hours, finally taking a brief respite, with her partner bringing them both a cup of punch to sip.

Glancing at her dance card, she saw only one dance remained and would be played shortly. She spied Sophie and saw that James had returned to his wife’s side, no doubt to dance the final number of the evening with her before they left for home. Mirella only hoped Lord Bridgewater would have the sense to leave her alone, as she had requested.

She went to join James and Sophie. By this time, the captain and her mother were also there.

“Have you enjoyed showing off the captain this evening, Mama?” she asked, not bothering to hide her smile.

Mama glowed as she said, “Every lady in this ballroom is envious of me.”

“And every gentleman in the card room is out for his blood,” James teased. “Drake had an excellent run of luck tonight, taking far more money than he lost.”

They all laughed, and the captain said, “I am ready to dance now with my lovely Mrs. Andrews.” He offered Mama his arm, and she took it, her gaze adoring.

James and Sophie also left for the dance floor, leaving Mirella alone. She thought to go and sit in the chairs provided for those ladies not dancing a particular number. Before she could move toward the section, however, she saw Lord Bridgewater making his way toward her, determination on his face.

Mirella did have her reputation to think of. She could not afford to cause a scene in front of an entire ballroom of guests. That would do far more to harm her than satisfy the anger she still carried inside toward this man.

The marquess reached her, smiling charmingly. “Are you ready for our waltz, my lady?” he asked innocently, as if he did not recall the previous exchange between them.

Mirella cursed under her breath, a word she had never uttered before. He must have read her lips because he began chuckling, which only irritated her further.

She had not known the last number closing the ball would be a waltz. That meant she would be held close in the marquess’ arms the entire time the music played. She told herself to be stoic. To not come undone by his touch.

“I believe we had previously arranged not to dance together, my lord,” she said haughtily.

“I think you did make that suggestion, Lady Mirella.” He smiled again, causing her insides to turn to jelly. “One which I decided to ignore. I know you will do the right thing by honoring your commitment to me.”

Though she had hoped to talk him out of it, Mirella realized it would not come to pass. She lifted her hand, placing it on his offered arm, and he led her onto the dance floor.

Smiling at him, she said sternly, “This will be the only time we ever dance together, Lord Bridgewater. Do not ask me in the future—because I will turn you down.”

“Understood, my lady,” he said, his arms coming about her as the music began.