Chapter Fifteen

B yron had known that Lady Mirella would dance with him. She had exquisite manners and would not reject him in front of a packed ballroom. Moreover, he knew she would never create a scene in public. He had been counting on those two things. Now, he led her out onto the dance floor, already conscious of the floral scent he recalled from their time together in Grasmere.

He slipped his arm about her shoulders, his fingers lightly grazing her body, as he took her hand in his. The music began, and they began moving to the strains of the waltz. As he had observed throughout the evening, she was a graceful dancer. What was different now was that she wore a blank expression on her face instead of the joyful smile which had been present while she danced with others.

He was determined to see that smile again.

“You dance divinely, Lady Mirella,” he complimented.

She remained silent, as if her face had been set in stone.

“I am only glad to finally partner with someone who understands music the way you do. Who feels the rhythm within it and can move accordingly. Why, I have had my toes trampled numerous times this evening. One of my partners could not distinguish her left from her right and constantly bumped into me and others. And one young lady had the breath of a dragon and almost knocked me down.”

That did it. The corners of her lips turned up. She fought the smile, though.

“Surely, you are exaggerating, my lord.”

“You will never know, will you?” he teased. “After all, I am a gentleman—and a gentleman never calls out a lady by name for her misdeeds on the dance floor.”

He felt her relax, so subtle, and yet he was attuned to her like no other. Byron had kept to the basic steps of the waltz, but now he turned with her, her skirts whirling about them. As expected, the move broke through her icy exterior.

“There,” he said. “A true smile from you now. I was beginning to think that you were not happy dancing the waltz with me.”

“You are a skilled dancer, Lord Bridgewater,” she told him. “Despite my personal opinion of you, I cannot help but enjoy partnering with someone who dances so well.”

“Have you enjoyed this opening night of the Season?” he asked, curious about her perspective of the night.

“I have never disguised my love of dancing, so yes, my lord. I would say it has been a most successful evening because I have danced into the wee hours of the morning.”

“You danced often,” he said. “I know—because I have been watching you.”

A blush stained her cheeks. “Have you?

“I have indeed.”

They fell silent, and he twirled her about the dance floor, feeling as though they moved as one. The rest of the evening paled in comparison to these minutes Lady Mirella Strong was in his arms.

Suddenly, she said, “I met your neighbor tonight. She is quite beautiful.”

She had met Jacinda?

“We spoke for a time in the retiring room. Miss Bowles said she had not seen you since childhood.”

“While I told you that our fathers were close, my brother and I were never friendly with Cedric Bowles. He was a couple of years younger than I was and not someone either of us enjoyed being around. Miss Bowles was quite a bit younger. Because of that, I rarely saw her.”

“She seemed pleased that you had asked her to dance this evening,” Lady Mirella continued. “Miss Bowles is...” Her voice trailed off.

Byron knew what Lady Mirella wanted to say—and couldn’t—because as a lady, she would never disparage someone else.

“From the little I recall about her, she was always a handful,” he said truthfully. “Mama was not fond of Lady Hampton, and Miss Bowles was greatly influenced by her mother.”

The dance would end soon, and he did not want to be speaking of Jacinda during his last moments with Lady Mirella.

Out of the blue, she asked, “Are you going to call upon me tomorrow, my lord?”

It was the last thing Byron intended to do. He would be going to Lord Hampton’s tomorrow afternoon to pay a call upon Jacinda instead. He needed to see who his competitors might be and make certain both she and her brother understood that he was a most interested suitor.

Instead, what came out of his mouth surprised him.

“Yes, Lady Mirella. I intend to call upon you tomorrow, if only to count the number of hearts you have stolen this evening.”

She giggled, a sweet sound which he wished he could hear every day from her. That every day he awoke with this woman in his arms and had the privilege of being her husband.

But it could never be. His sense of duty was too great. He must abide by the decision he had made regarding taking a marchioness, the one his father had chosen.

And yet Byron found, as the last strains of the waltz sounded, that he could not tell her that he had changed his mind and would not come to see her.

Glancing over her shoulder, he caught sight of where the matrons sat observing the dancers. His gaze connected with that of his mother’s, and she looked pleased. Aunt Flora and Lady Mathilda sat with Mama, both of them beaming at Lady Mirella and him. Byron knew he had compounded mistake upon mistake this evening.

He had danced with Lady Mirella when he should not have done so.

He continued to compare her to Jacinda.

Worst of all, he had committed to calling upon her, giving her false hope about them.

Byron wished he could tuck tail and rush back to Bridgefield. Of course, he had done that very thing last autumn when he had first met Lady Mirella. She had called him a coward then.

She would call him far worse once she realized he had misled her so badly.

The waltz ended, and he held her close a final moment, breathing in that fresh, floral scent which he would never forget. Then he placed her hand on his sleeve and escorted her from the ballroom floor.

“There is Mama and the captain,” she said, and he led her in their direction.

From the angle he observed the couple, he thought Mrs. Andrews might be with child.

Lady Mirella turned to him, smiling, a radiant smile which was like sunshine washing over him. For a moment, Byron experienced a pure rush of happiness.

“It does my heart good to see how happy Mama is with the captain. She spent so many years in a loveless marriage, with Papa barely acknowledging her. The captain has been so good for her, and she has been good for him, as well.”

“Do you think they might have children?” he asked.

“Oh, Mama is with child now. She has shared with us that it will be the only one they will have, because of her age, but I am so looking forward to having a new little brother or sister. Already, the captain has been a wonderful stepfather and embraced my sisters and me, claiming us as his own. In the eight months they have been wed, he has been more a father to me than my own ever was.”

They reached the couple and were joined by the Duke and Duchess of Seaton.

Her Grace asked, “How was your evening, Lord Bridgewater? I heard this is the first Season you have attended.”

“It was most interesting, Your Grace,” he replied. “If you will excuse me.”

Byron bowed to the group, and though he hated the commitment he had made, Byron said, “I will see you tomorrow afternoon, Lady Mirella.”

He worked his way through the crowd, meeting up with Uncle Hugh along the way.

“How was your card game this evening?” he asked.

“I won more than I lost, which is always a pleasant surprise,” his uncle shared. “I did lose twice, however, to a Mr. Andrews. He was with the Duke of Seaton, who introduced him around. Apparently, they are somehow related by marriage. The man had a wicked run of luck.”

“Andrews was formerly Captain Andrews,” Byron informed his uncle. “A sea captain, not an army one. Andrews wed Seaton’s stepmother last summer.”

“Ah, the convoluted relationships in the ton .” Uncle Hugh tossed an arm about Byron’s shoulder. “I hope you enjoyed your own evening, dancing with a string of pretty young girls.”

He did not answer because they had reached his mother and Aunt Flora. Thank goodness, Lady Mathilda was nowhere in sight.

“Shall we go to our carriage?” he asked.

Byron took Mama’s arm, escorting her, while Uncle Hugh claimed Aunt Flora.

It took more than half an hour to work their way through the crush of guests and toward their carriage a few streets away. He handed up his mother and then Aunt Flora, following Uncle Hugh into the carriage. The light of dawn breaking let him know just how different the hours in town would be from the ones he had observed in the country.

He braced himself, waiting for Aunt Flora to bring up Lady Mirella, which he thought would be inevitable. Instead, it was his mother who mentioned her first.

“I noticed you danced with several young ladies this evening, Bridgewater,” Mama said. “The last girl, in particular, was quite beautiful, even if she did have reddish hair. Flora tells me that she is Lady Mirella Strong, and that you made her acquaintance at Benbrook when you were last there in September.”

“Yes, Mama, I did meet Lady Mirella, along with her aunt and youngest sister. All three ladies were delightful.”

Mama nodded. “I must say, Bridgewater, that you and Lady Mirella looked as if you belonged together. Of all the couples on the dance floor for that waltz, the two of you danced superbly, better than any other couple. It was as if you had been dancing with one another your entire lives.”

“I suppose I am glad that I took those dance lessons in Bridgehampton,” he said casually.

Byron saw the hope on his aunt and uncle’s faces, and he knew the decision he had made regarding a wife would greatly disappointment them. Mama, as well, since she had no love for the Bowles’ family.

He had to stop dallying with Lady Mirella, however. Yes, he had fallen in love with her months ago and still loved her, but she was too great a temptation for him to be around further. He would stick to his plans.

And that meant declaring for Jacinda Bowles as soon as possible, despite Uncle Hugh’s advice against doing so.

Deciding to start with informing his own family, Byron said, “I have an announcement to make. One, I acknowledge, which most likely will not please any of you.”

Uncle Hugh looked puzzled and said, “There is no need to hide your feelings from us about Lady Mirella, Bridgewater. Yes, you only reacquainted yourself with her this evening, but when your heart knows, it knows. That is how it was with Flora and me.”

His uncle slipped a hand around his wife’s and added, “If you believe it might be too soon to declare your intentions to her and her family, at least you can call upon her and simply tell her you wish to get to know her better. The way you look at her, it is obvious what your feelings are toward her.”

Uncle Hugh’s words were like a knife twisted in Byron’s gut, especially because his uncle already knew what Byron had planned. Obviously, he was still trying to influence Byron, hoping he would change his mind.

“Let me clarify matters,” he said brusquely.

But the words simply wouldn’t come. He saw anticipation on his aunt and uncle’s face and could sense it from his mother, who was seated next to him.

Forcing himself to say the words, Byron said, “I do not intend to make Lady Mirella my marchioness. My choice for my bride will be Miss Jacinda Bowles.”

His aunt audibly gasped, while his uncle looked bemused by the announcement. Byron dared a glance at his mother and found her mouth hardening.

“You are doing this out of a sense of duty, aren’t you?” she accused, her tone bitter. “Just because your father wished to unite our families through marriage, seeing your brother and Jacinda wed, it does not mean that you have to follow through with those plans, Bridgewater.”

When he remained silent, Mama’s tone softened, her eyes now pleading with him. “Please. Do not do this to yourself. You know how I felt about Lady Hampton. Her daughter is ten times worse than she was. You have not been around the chit for many years, but I watched her grow up. Jacinda is cruel, Bridgewater. She will make you most unhappy.”

“Marriage is a business arrangement, Mama,” he said stiffly. “I intend to speak with Lord Hampton tomorrow about drawing up new contracts so that his sister and I might wed.”

“You simply cannot do this, Byron,” Aunt Flora insisted. “We see how you look at Lady Mirella. How she looks at you. Why, I think one—or the both of you—are already in love.”

“Love has nothing to do with marriage,” he said dismissively. “I am the Marquess of Bridgewater. I decide my own fate. My mind is made up, and none of you will change it. No further discussion will be required.”

Byron fell silent, gazing out the window at the darkened streets being lit by dawn’s first light. He must bury the feelings he had for Lady Mirella Strong.

And the best way to do that was to announce his betrothal to Jacinda Bowles.