A Deal with a Spinster
Preview
Chapter One
Lord and Lady Worthington had thrown a ball of jaw-dropping splendour. Of course, one would expect no less – it was the first ball of the Season, and so had to be truly spectacular.
The food was spread out on long tables, the finest and most exquisite dishes, and there was a seemingly endless supply of good wine, champagne, and punch to keep the dancers going.
Indeed, for this esteemed gathering was a splendid ball, wherein all those of noble standing were expected to partake in the merriment of dance.
Even, to her chagrin, Ava.
“… and there is the most subtle difference in floral scent, Lady Ava, and…”
“But they are both pink, aren’t they? The roses, I mean.” Ava interrupted and received a look of firm disapproval from her dance partner.
The man in question was Lord Alexander Pole, a rotund, red-haired young man, who had spent the entirety of the dance telling Ava about two types of rose he had bred himself, and the key differences between them. Ava was not particularly interested in flowers and gardening, but Lord Alexander did not seem to care. As far as she could tell, the roses were identical. She thoroughly regretted briefly complimenting the flower displays on the Worthingtons’ mantelpiece, which had set off this nonsense altogether.
“Yes, Lady Ava, but that is not important.” Lord Alexander said firmly.
“Well, I myself am not much of a gardener.” Ava said hastily, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Although I do find natural science truly fascinating. There is a paper published recently…”
“Oh, no, I don’t concern myself with that sort of thing.” Lord Alexander interrupted, in a tone that indicated the subject would not be continued. “I must say, I am surprised to find that a lady of your standing would trouble herself with such nonsense. Do your parents allow it?”
Mercifully for Lord Alexander, the music stopped, and the dance ended with a flourish. The dancers stepped apart from each other, bowed, then burst into applause and laughter.
Everyone, it seemed, had had a good time except for Ava. Quietly seething, she flashed Lord Alexander a smile and turned to leave the dance floor.
Clearly disregarding the insinuation, the gentleman hastened to her vicinity.
“Pray, may I procure for you a cup of punch, Lady Ava?”
“I am afraid I must seek out my family.” She said as lightly as she could. “I think my sister will be looking for me. This is her first ball, you see, and she’s rather nervous.”
The moment she closed her mouth, Ava wished she hadn’t been so foolish as to let that detail slip. Lord Alexander pursed his lips.
“Your sister, Lady Ava? Your younger sister?”
Curses, she thought, but of course it was too late to avoid this now.
“Yes.” She said, trying to sound as if it were nothing of consequence. “My sister, Lady Suzanne, comes out this Season.”
“But you are not married. I thought it was not proper for a younger sister to come out when her older sister is not married.”
Ava was thoroughly glad that she did not have a cup of anything in her hand, because she certainly would have tossed it in his face.
Instead, she gave a wide, brilliant smile.
“Oh, it is not, Lord Alexander. However, I am twenty-six years old and my sister is very nearly eighteen, so it seems a little unfair for her to miss out on her share of life, don’t you think, simply because I choose not to marry?”
“Choose?” he echoed, faintly scandalized.
“I believe a younger sister coming out is viewed in the same light as a lady choosing to study mathematics, natural history, archaeology, and the sciences. It is disapproved of, but really, nobody can stop me. Good day to you, Lord Alexander.”
She turned on her heel and marched off into the crowd without another word. She was reasonably certain that he would not follow her, and he didn’t. With a sigh of relief, Ava spotted a familiar flame-red head above the crowd and headed towards it.
“There you are, Willi.” Ava complained, pushing her way through the last of the crowd to join her friend in a quiet corner. “I didn’t see you dancing.”
“Oh, I opted to abstain from partaking in this particular dance.” Willi said, with a tinge of regret. Miss Wilhelmina Trent, known affectionately to her friends as Willi, was blessed with rich, adoring parents, a fine character, a sharp mind, and a truly charming personality.
She was not, however, blessed with looks. Her bright red hair, which Ava thought was truly spectacular, was generally disapproved of for some reason. She had large blue eyes, hidden by round, wire-rimmed spectacles, and a round, good-natured face. Besides the pampered, powdered beauties of the Season, Willi looked like a peahen beside peacocks, a state of affairs which infuriated Ava.
More often than not, gentlemen approaching the pair of them would glance over Willi without a second look and settle hopefully on Ava.
Ava knew, in a disinterested sort of way, that she was beautiful. She had olive skin, large hazel eyes, good features, and a head of glossy black hair. She had been described as having spirit, whatever that meant, and gentlemen seemed to like that.
She had no patience with any of them. They were all senseless imbeciles, every single one, looking for a pretty woman to bear a few suitable heirs and spend her life sitting docilely in a parlour while he entertained his friends.
Willi leaned against the wall and sipped her champagne, eyeing Ava thoughtfully.
“I saw you marching away from Lord Alexander Pole as if he’d offended you. Care to explain?”
Ava huffed. “Well, he had. You should have heard him, you know. He talked about two identical types of roses during our dance. During the whole dance, Willi! I don’t mind listening to a man’s interests, of course not, but the second I tried to mention natural history and Doctor Armitage’s paper, he simply…”
“Oh, Ava! You mustn’t talk like that. Gentlemen don’t like ladies to be cleverer than them.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s unfortunate, since you, at least, are cleverer than every single man in this room.”
Willi sighed. “Perhaps so, but bluestockings don’t do well in Society. You are lucky – stricter parents than dear Lord and Lady Mortensen would not allow you to study the way you do.”
Ava flinched at that. It was an unpleasant reminder that at twenty-six, she was still little more than a child, living on the good graces of her parents. Ava had no money of her own and would not receive any until she married. Oh, her parents loved her, of course, and gave her a generous allowance, but that was not her money. She studied whatever subjects caught her interest, but at the back of her mind was the knowledge that her father could choose to stop her at any moment and would be well within his legal rights to do so.
She had told Lord Alexander that nobody could stop her in her studies, but of course, for a woman, that was not true.
He wouldn’t, of course. but he could, and that grated. A gentleman of twenty-six, in contrast, was a grown man with all the freedoms he could desire. It was not fair.
“Kind of you to remind me.” Ava muttered.
Willi shook her head. “I’m not being unkind, Ava. You really need to be serious now that Suzi has come out. There’s lots of gossip about you already. You’re twenty-six, and every gentleman who has shown an interest in you has been firmly turned away. You must start thinking of a husband. If Suzi is married before you, you’ll be the laughingstock of London.”
“I don’t care!” Ava said fiercely, her raised voice almost pitching above the babble and chatter of the crowd. A few inquiring glances were shot their way, and she composed herself as best she could. “I don’t care, Willi. Don’t you see that marriage would be the end of everything for me? The end of my freedom, such as it is, the end of my studies… no, I can’t consider it. I hope Suzi finds a suitable man, as I know she wants to get married, but for myself, I’d like to go on as I am.”
“Ava…”
“I think I need a breath of fresh air, Willi. Do you have a partner for the next dance?”
“I do.” Willi responded unwillingly, glancing towards the dance floor.
“Well, you’d better stay here, then.”
“Where are you going?”
“I want to breathe, Willi.” Ava responded, already slipping away into the crowd. She shot her friend one last lopsided grin over her shoulder and headed towards the terraces.
In the interests of getting air into the stuffy ballroom, their hosts had thrown open the wide French doors leading out onto the balcony. Steps led down from the balcony onto the terrace below, and from there into the dark garden. Footmen were posted on the terrace, to discreetly but firmly turn away any guests from wandering in the gardens. After all, if an unchaperoned couple were to find themselves in the garden, their reputation would be destroyed. The Worthington family would also suffer, since the scandal would have happened at their ball.
It was all ridiculous. Ava shouldn’t have stepped onto the balcony alone, but she really did need some air. There were a cluster of ladies on the balcony, none of them above eighteen, leaning on the stone parapet and giggling madly among themselves. They glanced over at Ava, glanced at each other, then dissolved into further giggles.
Rolling her eyes, Ava turned towards the stone staircase. She would go down to the terrace and think about the book she sadly left at home. She would have finished it by now if she’d been permitted to skip the first ball of the Season.
Lost in her contemplations, Ava did not pay attention to where she was putting her feet. The second to last stone stair was a little mossy, slick with the recent rain, and her flat-soled dancing slippers had no grip to speak of at all. Without warning, her foot skidded out from under her, and Ava tipped forward towards the shadowy terrace, her arms flailing like the sails of a windmill.
She hit something soft and firm, that gave a muffled oof. A strong pair of arms steadied her, large hands gripping her upper arms and setting her squarely on her feet as if she weighed very little at all.
Ava blinked and found herself looking up at a strange man to whom she had not been introduced. He wore a deep green evening suit, a rather carelessly tied cravat, and had sandy blond hair which stuck up as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
“Do forgive me, madam.” He said, and his voice was deep and unfamiliar. He removed his hands from her arms, and Ava cleared her throat, recovering herself.
“Not at all, sir. The fault was mine. Thank you for your help.”
He bowed wordlessly, and climbed up the stone stairs to the balcony, leaving Ava alone.
Chapter Two
“You smoke too much, Dominic.”
Dominic flinched, glancing guiltily over his shoulder, and tapped out the contents of his pipe against the wall.
His friend, Lord Richard Forbury, Viscount of Larchmere, was watching him from the shadows, arms crossed, face disapproving.
“A man can have his small comforts, can he not?” Dominic responded mildly. “I cannot indulge in tobacco within the premises. The young ones persistently seek my attention, preventing me from partaking and Daniella has recently taken an aversion to pipe smoke.”
Richard pursed his lips, unconvinced.
Lord Larchmere was something of an enigma, if the scandal sheets were to be believed. He had the look of a libertine – a cherubic face that would make any woman swoon, chestnut brown curls that Lord Byron himself would have envied, and a figure that most men aspired to attain through the use of padding and the wearing of corsets.
And then Lord Larchmere went and ruined it all by acting like a prissy matron. He did not smoke, drink, gamble, or waltz, if he could help it. He had been described by one particular scandal sheet as a man entirely without vices or fault.
That was an odd way of describing a person, Dominic had always thought. Without vices. He himself did not have time for vices. Raising three children did not leave much time for anything, let alone vice.
“What about you, Richard? Have any of the mammas in there got you married off, yet?”
Richard scowled, an expression which made his beautiful face look even more beautiful, somehow. Dominic, who was aware he looked tired and sallow after staying up to manage Steven’s nightmares the previous night, felt an unfamiliar pang of envy. Richard was twenty-eight, barely two years younger than his friend, and already Dominic felt like an old man whose life was slipping away.
“I will marry if and when I choose.” Richard said shortly.
“Charming. Save it for the ladies, please.”
Richard rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall and staring out at the garden. “What about you, Dom? Have you found any suitable matrons to raise your children yet?”
“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. It makes me sound terrible. And the answer is no, I have not.”
“Really? In this crowd of eager young ladies, all longing to be married and have a family of their own, you haven’t found a single one who likes children?”
Dominic pressed his lips together. “It’s a great deal more complicated than that, Richard, and you know it. It is not a matter of merely discovering a lady who possesses an affinity towards children. I need a woman of good character, of strength and intelligence. I want a partner, not a nursemaid. I can hire a nursemaid. First of all, I’m ruling out all the debutantes, as they’re entirely too young. I don’t want some eighteen- or twenty-one-year-old girl trying to mother my children. They ought to be building their own lives, not helping a sad widower piece together his own. And the children deserve better.”
There was a silence after that, and Dominic bit his lip, wishing he’d stayed quiet.
“You are too hard on yourself, you know.” Richard said quietly. “You’re a good man, and the children are sweet.”
Dominic swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, raking a hand through his hair. He didn’t look at Richard, preferring instead to stare at the dark shapes in the garden, trying to work out what they might be. Rose bushes, or shrubberies?
He hoped the latter. He hated roses.
“It’s been close to two years since Marianne died.” He said softly. “And I still feel her absence every day. Is it right for me to marry now, Richard? Is it wise? Wouldn’t I be condemning some poor woman to a life of second best? I loved Marianne, and I never thought…” he trailed off, shaking his head.
Richard shifted beside him, sighing. He was trying his best, Dominic knew, but Richard had never been comfortable with excesses of emotion, despite his best efforts.
“Marianne told you, on her deathbed, that you should marry again, did she not?” he said, after a pause. “She told you to love again, to find somebody to mother the children. She didn’t tell you when. If you truly feel that you aren’t ready to marry again, then we can go home, you and I, right now. I have my carriage, and we can both drop out of the Season whenever you like. There need be no pressure.”
Dominic closed his eyes, letting his head sink back against the stone wall. It was an appealing thought, just going home and forgetting the business of the Season, of socialising, of finding a woman to marry and share his life.
He wasn’t looking for love, of course. Marianne had wanted him to fall in love again, but Dominic did not expect that. He was looking for a woman who would suit him and his family, and they would suit her. He wanted a marriage of convenience for them both, and that seemed almost more difficult than simply charming some young woman. Simply wooing a woman felt like deceit, somehow.
“I have procrastinated upon it for an extended period, but I believe the time has arrived for me to broach this matter.” Dominic finally voiced his thoughts. “Emily, the governess – she has been an absolute blessing. The children adore her, and she knew Marianne so well. But Emily is getting older, and it’s not fair to make her manage three growing children. Especially with Daniella’s behaviour at the moment, it’s simply… it’s simply too much. Now is the time, Richard. I’m determined to find a wife this Season.”
Richard nodded. “As you like.” He paused, tilting his head, listening to the strains of music starting up from inside the house. “Oh, dear. The next set is starting.”
“Oh, have you a partner?” Dominic asked, teasingly. “Has the aloof Lord Larchmere finally lowered himself to ask a woman to dance?”
Richard scowled. “I’m dancing with Lady Worthington’s daughter. She’s my host, I have to ask her to dance. But don’t worry – Miss Worthington prefers heroic, grizzled soldiers and is all but engaged to one of them. I’m quite safe.”
Dominic chuckled. “Quite safe.” He muttered to himself, eyeing Richard’s retreating back.
He was sure that Richard secretly wished to be married – why else would he attend all of the Seasons? – but whatever type of woman he was searching for, he had not found her.
Richard had been gone for a moment or two when another figure appeared at the top of the stairs, a dark-haired woman in a blue dress. Dominic glanced up at her and did not recognize her. There were plenty of people at the party he had not been introduced to, and he was more than happy to keep it that way. The woman began to descend the stairs. No doubt she’d come out here for a breath of fresh air and couldn’t have seen him in the shadows.
He would have to leave, of course, as it wouldn’t be proper to stand out here together, even if they never exchanged a single word. Dominic pushed away from the wall, feeling the familiar twinge of annoyance at Society’s ridiculous rules and proprieties.
Then the woman’s foot slipped on a step, and she went hurtling forward. Dominic dived forward without even thinking about it, neatly catching her in his arms. He set her down on her feet and eyed her for any signs of damage. She seemed shaken – a fall of only two steps from the bottom was still a long way, as those stairs were steep – but in no danger of swooning anytime soon.
She was remarkably pretty, with olive-tinged skin and a straightforward, clear hazel gaze. She met his eye squarely, with none of the demurring or downcast eyes that ladies favoured these days. Dominic realized that he had his hands still resting on her arms, and hastily removed them.
“Do forgive me, madam.” He said, taking a polite step backwards.
She seemed to recover herself, flashing a quick, tight-lipped smile.
“Not at all, sir. The fault was mine. Thank you for your help.”
And so it was concluded. Dominic bowed, and began to climb the stairs, to reassure her that he did not intend to linger on the terrace and endanger her reputation. He glanced back once over his shoulder and saw that she was now standing where he had stood, leaning back against the wall, staring out into the garden. She looked pensive, and her dark brows knitted over her eyes.
Sighing, Dominic continued up the stairs, past a gaggle of debutantes, and back into the sticky heat of the ballroom.
The dance was in full swing. Picking up a glass of wine, Dominic leaned against the mantelpiece and watched the dancers. He was fond of dancing, and Marianne had been, too. Once the children began to come along, there’d been no time for balls and parties, of course. Still, every now and then, Marianne enlisted the long-suffering Emily to play the piano, and Dominic and she moved the furniture in the drawing room and danced a few giddy, lopsided measures together.
He swallowed hard, the laughter in his head dying away.
Maybe I should ask somebody to dance.
“Ah, there you are, Lord Thame.”
Dominic stiffened, cursing himself for a fool. He’d let his guard drop, and now Mrs Ursula Winslow had cornered him.
Ursula was perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven and had already secured herself the reputation as a Dashing Widow. She was tall, slim, and fashionably fair, with a face like a doll and a fascinating pair of brown eyes. She was out of mourning now, of course – and everyone knew how keen she was to throw off her black satins and silks – and was generally said to be on the lookout for another husband.
She settled herself beside Dominic, leaning against the mantelpiece.
“Mrs Winslow, good evening.” Dominic responded politely. “Are you not dancing?”
“Not this time. Why, are you asking?”
He swallowed hard. “I think it is too late. The dance has already begun.”
Ursula nodded slowly, lifting a glass of champagne to her lips. She eyed him closely – she didn’t drop her gaze demurely, either – and there was a calculating gleam in her eye which he did not like.
“How are you dear children, Lord Thame?” she asked suddenly. “Daniella, Steven, and Margaret?”
He gave a tight smile. “Maria. The youngest is named Maria.”
She winced, shaking her head as if she’d been caught using the wrong fork at a dinner. “Ah, I beg your pardon. You have yet to introduce me to your children, you know, Lord Thame. You know how I adore children.”
“Yes, Mrs Winslow, you have mentioned it. I’m sure you can meet them sometime. Unfortunately, events like this are simply not suitable for children.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
Dominic glanced down at her, not entirely sure whether she was serious or not. “Well, it’s… it’s too loud, and too late for them.”
She smiled charmingly. “Of course, of course. Well, you shall simply have to invite me to your home then, won’t you?”
He swallowed. This sounded suspiciously like he was being trapped into an invitation.
He was saved by the dance ending. Everyone around them broke out into applause, laughing and chattering. The musicians took a short break, tuning up their instruments and muttering between themselves, while the dancers filed off the dance floor, aiming for the refreshment tables.
Richard appeared, and Dominic sagged in relief. Ursula eyed him, flashing a smile which did not reach her eyes. Richard bowed, blank-faced, and said nothing.
“Well, I had better take myself off.” Ursula said brightly. “Good day, gentlemen.”
She glided off into the crowd, throwing one calculating glance back at the two men. Dominic let out a sigh of relief, draining his glass of wine.
Richard pursed his lips, folding his arms.
“She’d marry you in a heartbeat.”
“Yes, I know, Richard. She’s made that quite clear. She keeps telling me how much she loves children.”
Richard lifted an eyebrow. “And yet you aren’t keen. Why not?”
“Why not? Why not? You can’t stand the woman yourself, Richard.”
His friend shook his head. “That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“I am not looking for a woman to raise my children. Mrs Winslow is… well, she’s a very calculating woman. She all but tricked her late husband into marrying her, and if rumours are to be believed, she ruined at least two innocent young women in her path to marrying the man. Now she’s widowed and free again, and she’s looking for another rich man – a younger and handsomer one, this time. But she has no children, so perhaps she wants a family, too.”
Dominic sighed. “There’s something about her that I don’t like. Something cold. I’m not marrying for my own sake, Richard. Of course, I want to like the woman I marry, but my children need to like her, too. It feels like an impossible task at times. Besides, there’s no guarantee we would have more children. I need to marry a woman who’ll love my children as her own, and if we did have more children, she could not make a divide between them. A great deal rests on this.”
Richard nodded but said nothing. For a moment or two, they simply stood together, watching the crowd.
A twinge ran down Dominic’s spine when he saw a familiar face enter from the balcony. The woman who’d fallen into him, with her olive skin and dark hair.
She moved easily through the crowd, smiling at a few acquaintances, until she came to a knot of three people. One was a red-haired, bespectacled young woman, and the other two were clearly the woman’s siblings. One was a man, with the same dark hair and olive skin, and the other was a young lady of about seventeen, dressed like a debutante, and clearly simmering with nerves.
He watched the young girl’s face light up at the sight of her sister, and he saw the woman smile warmly back at her. Conversation flowed between the four of them, and it was clear that they were all enjoying each other’s company.
The debutante kept her eyes on her older sister’s face, with something akin to adoration. They talked and laughed for a moment more, and Dominic noticed that the red-haired young lady, despite being the only one there not blood related (he guessed) did not seem excluded in the least.
“Richard.” Dominic said suddenly, making his friend jump, “Who is that young woman?”
He pointed, and Richard squinted. “Which one? There are three.”
“All of them, then.”
“Well, the gentleman is Lord Gordon Devane, the red-haired lady is Miss Trent, if I’m not mistaken. The debutante is Lady Suzanne Devane, and the older woman is Lady Ava Devane. The Devanes are the children of Lord and Lady Mortensen.”
“Oh, Richard! It appears you’ve consumed every tome of The Spectator that exists. Might you kindly make the acquaintance for me?”
Richard let out a breath. “Which one do you want introducing to?”
“All of them, I suppose.”
“You know what I mean.”
Dominic pursed his lips, avoiding his friend’s incisive stare. “The older Lady Devane.”
“Lady Ava? Well, if you like.”
“Are you a friend of the family?”
“No, but I make it my business to know everyone. It’s a tedious job, however, it proves advantageous on certain occasions.”
Richard seemed to be waiting for another question. Dominic shifted from foot to foot before he managed it.
“Are any of the ladies attached?” he asked lightly, deliberately not specifying. Richard rolled his eyes.
“Miss Trent is not, Lady Suzanne is not, having only just come out, and neither is Lady Ava. Why do you want to be introduced to her?”
Dominic considered making a joke or making a demurral. He was still watching Lady Ava, who was assiduously straightening her sister’s necklace with an expression of absolute absorption. Her sister was still looking up at her with adoration, and it made something in Dominic’s chest clench. He knew nothing at all about Lady Ava, aside from her name and the fact she was the kind of woman who’d stand alone on a terrace.
“Because.” Dominic said, a little shocked at how tremulous and nervous his own voice sounded, “I want to ask her to dance with me.”
Chapter Three
Ava was so focused on rearranging Suzi’s necklace – a lovely gold chain with a diamond pendant, bought especially for her first ever ball in real Society – that she didn’t notice the two approaching men until Gordon stiffened and nudged her, digging a sharp elbow into her ribs.
“Lord Larchmere, Lord Thame.” He said, in the light, airy voice he thought made him sound very languid and grown-up. Gordon might have been twenty-eight, but he sometimes acted as if he were eighteen.
Ava stopped fidgeting with the necklace, seeing how crimson Suzi had gone – a sure sign that attractive gentlemen were approaching. She turned to see a vaguely familiar gentleman, remarkably handsome but with a severe expression, and the same fair-haired gentleman who’d saved her from falling down the stone stairs.
There was a taut moment of uncomfortable silence.
“Lord Devane, let me introduce my friend, Lord Dominic Broughton, the Marquess of Thame.” The handsome gentleman intoned – Ava’s memory supplied that his name was Lord Richard Forbury, Viscount of Larchmere – and gestured to his companion. “Lord Thame, this is Lord Gordon Devane, his sisters Lady Ava and Lady Suzanne, and their companion Miss Wilhelmina Trent.”
Pleasantries and such were exchanged, and there was a half-minute of awkward silence. Lord Larchmere appeared wholly disinclined to engage in conversation.
Lord Thame cleared his throat and spoke first.
“Lady Ava, I was wondering if you’d care to stand up with me for the next dance? If you do not already have a partner, of course.”
More silence. Ava glanced around at the others. Lord Larchmere’s face was entirely impassive – now that she remembered his name, she remembered the various nicknames ascribed to him – Lord Ice, the Marble Gentleman, and even Matron Larchmere for his severity – while Willi and Suzi looked thrilled. Gordon looked faintly amused.
Well, it wasn’t as if she could refuse. Declining an invitation to dance was deemed highly inappropriate, and Ava would be unable to accept an invitation to dance for the rest of the evening, which would doubtless stretch out for hours and hours. This was Suzi’s first ever ball, and Ava had no expectation of their family rushing home early, if they could help it. No, this party was for Suzi, and even if Lord Thame had been the most annoying gentleman in the world, she would not have embarrassed her sister by refusing his invitation.
“Of course.” she said, with a practised smile. “I should love to. Shall we take our places?”
Lord Thame weaved his way through the crowd towards the dance floor, where other couples were already taking their places. Ava followed, mind reeling. Had he come over to scold her for walking unchaperoned on the terrace? No, he wouldn’t have done so on the dance floor. He couldn’t possibly have had an interest piqued in her from that altercation. With a jolt, Ava realized that the dance was…
“This is a waltz.” She burst out, before she could stop herself.
Lord Thame hesitated, on the edge of the ballroom. “Yes, it is. I don’t believe that our hosts prohibit the waltz between unmarried couples who are not engaged. We are all welcome to dance the waltz. Do you have any reservations about participating in the waltz? I would detest causing you any unease.”
He would hate to make me uncomfortable, Ava thought, with a sudden rush of bitterness. Because I am a staid old spinster who is shocked at the thought of a waltz.
She’d already seen Suzi stand up for two waltzes with two different gentlemen, and she seemed entirely unaffected. She even seemed to enjoy the dance, claiming that it was simpler than other complex dances, which were faster and more energetic.
Lord Thame was still looking at her, waiting patiently for her response.
“I have no objection to the waltz.” Ava heard herself say. “I don’t often dance the waltz, however.”
How about never?
“Neither do I.” Lord Thame admitted, smiling wryly. “We can fumble through the steps together, I suppose. Shall we?”
There was nothing left now but to take her place on the dance floor. Ava had, of course, learned the waltz along with her sisters – and Gordon, who was a remarkably graceful dancer – and she knew the steps well enough.
The issue with the waltz, in Ava’s opinion, was that it was entirely too close. In the other dances, a lady could distance herself from her partner. Except for a few twirls and some promenading, the steps were all one’s own. In a waltz, two dancers became one creature, standing close enough to shock the more proper ladies and gentlemen of Society, whirling round and round the dance floor with nothing to look at but each other.
While the prohibition on waltzing had been lifted in all but the most austere of homes, some hosts still did not allow unmarried and unengaged couples to participate. Ava was entirely comfortable with this.
Lord Thame held his hand out to her, and there was nothing for it but to go to him. She rested her hand gingerly on his shoulder – broad, without any need for padding, she noticed – and tried not to think about his hand on her waist.
Cease this nonsense, she chided herself. You have only encountered this gentleman for a mere couple of minutes. Deny yourself from succumbing to an infatuation over his comely countenance. You are not Emily St Aubert, as portrayed in that abhorrent novel, fainting and swooning without control.
“Are you sure you are not uncomfortable?” Lord Thame said, breaking into her thoughts.
She levelled a blank stare at him. “You must think me a fragile creature, Lord Thame, to be undone by a simple dance.”
He didn’t flinch, as other gentlemen might have done at her sharp tone. Instead, he smiled wryly.
“I don’t think you’re a fragile creature at all, Lady Ava. Quite the opposite.”
Before Ava could question him further on that statement, the music began.
The waltz was not a slow dance, but it certainly allowed the dancers to catch their breath more frequently and allowed for much more extensive conversation.
Even so, Ava stayed quiet for the first few minutes, concentrating on getting the steps right and not treading on Lord Thame’s highly polished hessians.
She didn’t allow herself to think about the foolishness of wearing boots, let alone hessians, to a ball.
“I hope you didn’t mind my introducing myself in that way.” Lord Thame said eventually. “Have you been invigorated by your time upon the terrace?”
Ah, so he was going to mention their unusual meeting.
“Quite refreshed, thank you.” she responded smoothly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Very much, thank you.”
She snorted. “That is the wrong answer.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Consider my curiosity piqued. What would the right answer be, then?”
“Well, since this is fashionable Society, and it is never fashionable to be happy or content, you ought to have said something polite about the decorations but hinted that you were terribly bored. It’s fashionable to be bored, you see.”
“How intriguing. Are you bored, Lady Ava?”
“I am neither bored nor fashionable, I am afraid. It’s an entertaining party, and our hosts have put a great deal of effort into it.”
“I agree.”
The dance called for the gentlemen to spin their partners around nimbly, and they did so. When the dance allowed for it, Lord Thame spoke again.
“I hear that your younger sister has just come out.”
Her mouth tightened. “Are you going to comment on how she is out when I am not married?”
Lord Thame blinked, looking baffled. “What? No, I was not. I was only going to ask her age. She seems young.”
“She is not eighteen. Very young.” Ava said pointedly. A seventeen-year-old girl marrying a man of thirty would not cause a blink in Society, but Ava did not like to see those age gaps. She’d seen too many sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girls marry men of thirty, forty, even fifty and have it called a good match, but Ava strongly disagreed.
“She seems to be enjoying herself very much.” Lord Thame continued, blithely unaware. “She seems nervous, which is to be expected. It is good that she has you here. It is clear that she adores you, her older sister.”
Ava hadn’t been expecting that. She blinked, a little taken aback.
“Well, I do my best. I am nearly eight years older than her, so I suppose I’ve always seen her as a child. She hates that, of course.”
Lord Thame smiled wryly. “I can imagine. My oldest daughter is nearly eight years old, and fancies herself quite grown up.”
Ava blinked, nearly missing a step. Children. He had children. Why was he asking her to waltz, when he had children and doubtless a spouse floating about somewhere in the crowd?
“Then I am surprised you are not dancing with your wife, Lord Thame.” Ava said, more sharply than she’d intended. It didn’t matter if he was married, of course, or at least it shouldn’t. She was not interested in him, or in any man. She wasn’t.
Lord Thame’s expression froze for a moment. At first, Ava thought it was guilt, or frustration at letting his guard slip, but then she saw something tight and pained in his eyes.
“I am a widower, Lady Ava. I have been for two years.”
There was a heartbeat of silence.
You fool, Ava, she scolded herself. You assumed the worst, and now you’ve insulted and offended a man who is clearly mourning his wife.
“Forgive me, I…” she began, but he shook his head, cutting her off.
“What was it you said to me earlier? There is nothing to forgive, the fault is mine. I assumed you knew I was a widower, which I should not have done. I have three children, in fact, and the youngest is only three years old. It’s a difficult task, and I find my social graces lacking these days, whenever I venture from my house.”
She chuckled lightly. “I think you are doing very well, Lord Thame. I am about to become Aunt Ava, which is tremendously exciting. My elder sister is expecting a child, and we’re all thrilled, as you can imagine.”
Lord Thame smiled. It was a proper smile, not a tight, polite Society grimace, and Ava was surprised to feel her heart thud harder in his chest. His smile showed even, white teeth, creasing up his eyes and making his face look warmer and different, somehow. It was gone as soon as it had arrived, and she found herself wanting him to smile again.
“Yes, waiting for a child is an exciting prospect. Are you parents looking forward to being grandparents?”
“Oh, very much so. They’re taking all of the toys my siblings and I had when we were young and having them repainted and spruced up for the new baby. I have been suggesting that my sister name the baby after me, if it is a girl, but shockingly, they are refusing.”
He chuckled, and Ava allowed herself a small smile at that. It was always pleasant to make somebody laugh.
“What are the names of your children?” she asked, feeling like it was the right question to ask.
He beamed. “Daniella is the eldest – the nearly-eight-year-old who fancies herself grown up. Steven is five years old, the only boy. He’s remarkably serious, and very clever. Maria is three, the baby, and I would venture the best behaved out of them all. Raising children is horrifyingly difficult, in case nobody has told you. Nursemaids or not.”
“They sound delightful. Is it difficult, raising them alone? Since you are… ahem. A widower.”
Lord Thame didn’t seem to take offence at her clumsy question. He eyed her with a strange expression for a minute or two, until Ava started to think that she had made a mistake.
“Is it difficult.” He said at last. “Very difficult, especially without my dear wife at my side. I feel her absence every day, which provides another challenge, as I’m sure you can imagine. I adore my children, and it’s important to me that they have the finest childhood I can provide. Unfortunately, that requires more than just education and comforts. Children are complex, and they are all different. It is by far the hardest challenge I have ever faced.”
In the face of this outpouring, Ava wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t believe for one moment that Lord Thame told every stranger he met about the difficulties of raising his children and how much he missed his wife. So why was he telling her?
She was saved from the awkwardness of making an unsatisfactory reply by the dance ending.
The music finished with a flourish, the dancers bowed to each other, and the crowd broke out into applause. Ava clapped along with them, feeling bemused. How had the dance gone by so quickly? The sets always seemed interminably long, but dancing with Lord Thame – well, it hadn’t been a trial, not in the slightest.
She flashed a hesitant smile up at him, wondering what to do next. Usually, at this point of a dance, she would be plotting how to escape her partner. She hadn’t made any plots so far.
Lord Thame spoke up.
“I find myself quite parched. May I entice you to partake in a beverage? The refreshment table is over there.. Would you care for a tumbler of punch?”
“Are you fond of gardening, Lord Thame?” Ava heard herself say.
He blinked. “I… not particularly. I enjoy a pleasant garden, of course, but I’m not talented when it comes to gardening. Why do you ask?”
“My last dance partner talked to me about roses for twenty minutes. I’m not sure I can bear a repeat.”
He chuckled, offering her his arm. “If I promise not to talk about flowers, will you come with me?”
“I don’t see why not.” Ava responded, taking his arm. Her fingers accidentally brushed the inch of bare skin at his wrist, and the contact sent tingles along Ava’s arm. She swallowed hard and tried her level best to ignore it.
“Well, I’ve bored you with tales of my family for at least ten minutes.” Lord Thame said, sipping his punch. “It’s your turn, I think.”
Ava sighed, draining her own tumbler of punch. She’d drank it too quickly and was beginning to feel pleasantly light-headed.
“Oh, there is not much of consequence to relate. I am fortunate to possess a commendable family, and my affection for them knows no bounds. The oldest of us all is my sister, Lady Beverley Connor, the one who is expecting a baby, and the only one of us all who is married. Then comes Gordon, then me, then Suzi. Lady Suzanne, I mean. Out of them all, I’m the only shocking one.”
He lifted one sandy eyebrow, in a gesture that was making Ava feel dizzy for some reason.
“Shocking? How so?”
“Are you fond of natural history, Lord Thame?”
“Very much so. Why do you ask?”
She set down her empty cup, resisting the urge to pick up another. She’d had quite enough, so far.
“I am also fond of natural history. And mathematics, and literature, and many more subjects that are entirely unsuitable for a lady. Shocking, is it not?”
Lord Thame chuckled, shaking his head. “I can imagine that Society is quiet scandalized. Foolishness, isn’t it? I intend for my girls to receive the same education as my son. Have you read the latest paper by Doctor Armitage? It’s quite fascinating.”
Ava blinked, missing a beat. “I have indeed. It’s pleasant to meet a gentleman who doesn’t find it shocking, truly.”
“I can imagine. Do your parents support your studies?”
She nodded, feeling more at ease now. Lord Thame read Doctor Armitage, which was an excellent start and a pleasant surprise.
“They do. However, I think they worry that my reputation as a… well, as a bluestocking, I suppose, will ruin my chances at marriage. I am, after all, not even engaged at the ancient age of twenty-six. It’s rather ridiculous, don’t you think? I am not searching for a suitor, and if I were, I wouldn’t look for one in the marriage mart. I do not view myself as a mere animal looking to be possessed. It’s quite repulsive, at times.”
Lord Thame’s expression was neutral, and he swirled his punch around his cup, saying nothing.
Ava cursed herself for a fool. It was all well and good to have those opinions – deep down, most people hated the marriage mart and the Season – but one didn’t go around airing those thoughts. They certainly didn’t air out their opinions to handsome, eligible men who had shown interest in them and read Doctor Armitage’s papers.
You, Ava Devane, are a fool of the highest order, she told herself, and it’s no surprise you will be a spinster forever.
She opened her mouth to try for an apology but closed it again at the horrified expression on Lord Thame’s face.
But then, he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking over her shoulder, at a remarkably beautiful woman in a sapphire blue silk gown swaying across the floor towards them, a slow smile spreading across her face.
I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new novel“A Deal with a Spinster”! You can now download it on Amazon!
This Post Has 2 Comments
This seems quite intriguing and up to your usual standards. I have enjoyed the Tillewood books and am sure I will enjoy this one too. I like your independent women characters that go against the norm.
I’m looking forward to enjoying this adventure – and it’s “happily ever after” conclusion.