Chapter Five
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His heart thumped against his chest when Magdalene appeared in the doorway of the ballroom. The dancing was not due to start for several more minutes, and guests continued to stream in. He knew immediately that he’d asked too much of her.
She stood tall and straight, looking as if she were marching to her death. Her lips were pressed together, her jaw was clenched, and she clutched her fan as if she believed she would soon be required to defend herself with it.
She’d changed into a dark blue satin gown that could almost pass as a ballgown. Her shoulders were barer than he’d seen before, but compared to most formal evening gowns, her attire was markedly stark. There was no lace, no bows, just a ribbon underneath her bosom. There was a small ruffle at her sleeves.
Half a dozen gentlemen approached the doorway from behind her, walking rapidly. One of them brushed her shoulder and turned to make his apologies. Magdalene looked at him with a glassy-eyed stare.
“My dearest,” Daunt said, hurrying to close the distance between them. He took her arm and slipped between her and the other gentlemen, turning to them with a broad grin. Some of the most beautiful women in Britain had made their interest known to him, and, in his opinion, none of them compared to Magdalene. “Good evening, gentlemen. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”
There were several “my lords” and other exclamations of assent as they hurried in with the swagger and over-confidence of young men intent on the delight of dancing.
When the young gentlemen were past, she peered into the room, stuffed full of the local gentry from several parishes. “How many people do you think are here?”
“Ten.”
She replied without a trace of a smile. “My lord. There are at least two dozen.”
“A dozen. Two dozen.” He guided her inside. They had agreed to make themselves seen, but Magdalene was obviously terrified. “Are you all right? You needn’t, you know.”
She let out a breath. “I can do this,” she whispered. She relaxed considerably when he drew her to a quiet corner.
“Do you see Mrs. Taylor?” he asked.
“Lorenzo de’ Medici himself could be here without my noticing.”
Daunt bent closer and lowered his voice. “I have news.”
She turned her ear to him. “Go on.”
“I made inquiries. Gomes says there’s no Mrs. Taylor at Vaincourt.”
“Here at all, or not staying here?”
“Not a guest at Vaincourt.”
“Perhaps she has accommodations in Badding, or she’s a guest of someone else. This is most mysterious. She very much implied that she was a guest here.”
“Naturally, I have posted additional guards around the library and outside the house. Should anyone gain access, they shall meet Gomes’s granite-eyed stare and iron nerve.” His butler, a servant he’d brought with him from London, was a former infantryman who brooked no nonsense from anyone.
The orchestra struck up a preliminary note. Several young ladies hurried in and stood nearby with their heads together. He gestured. “Perhaps one of them shall meet one of the young gentlemen from earlier and fall in love.”
She was at least partially diverted by the remark, for she managed a smile. “Stranger things have happened at a ball.”
He straightened his coat and dusted off a shoulder. “This shall be the first time I’ve given the welcome speech,” he said.
She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed. “Go,” she said. “I shall admire your oratory from here.”
Daunt made his way to the center of the ballroom. Silence fell, and with one eye on the corner where Magdalene stood, he welcomed everyone to Vaincourt, and with that, he had officiated at his first Accession Day as Lord Daunt of Vaincourt. Pray God that next year Magdalene would be at his side as Lady Daunt.
Rejoining her was the work of some minutes, but he made his way to her. She stood with her back pressed against the wall, quite pale. She’d crushed her fan; it dangled useless from her wrist.
Without a word, he steered her out of the ballroom and did not stop walking until they were several feet along the corridor. He escorted her into an unoccupied parlor. He had elected to open the ball with a waltz, which could be faintly heard. He removed her destroyed fan and discarded it. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.” He swept her into his arms, reckless, so reckless. “Dance with me?”
“What on—” She more or less stumbled into his arms, laughing now that she wasn’t staring into the abyss of a ballroom full of people.
“Have you waltzed before?” he asked, even though he’d already begun the steps. The waltz was a dance designed to make a couple intensely aware of each other. He already knew she found him handsome, but he hoped she would think of him as a potential life partner. If Magdalene thought of him as too young, well, perhaps a waltz would introduce her to the possibility that, at twenty-eight, he was most definitely not too young.
He led her on a tight circuit of the room, avoiding chairs and tables. She was tall and bony, and to his discredit, he’d expected her to be awkward. But she wasn’t. “You’ve waltzed before?”
“The duke saw to it I had lessons,” she said with a smug smile.
“You learned the waltz?”
“No, of course not. But one year, Angus came home from a trip to London where it happened that he’d learned, and he taught me. I’ve danced before at the smaller assemblies where I know most everyone.” He was intensely aware of her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
“Do you like to dance?”
“I do.” They adjusted to a mistimed section of the waltz with a hop and a bob to fill in the extra beats until the music was back in tempo.
“It’s astonishing that in all the time I’ve known you, I was never at Plumwood when there was dancing.”
“How strange that the subject never came up. Angus and I had parties with dancing afterward several times. One does what one can for the local youth. But when you came, why, that was a special occasion for books. Angus and I looked forward to your visits with such eagerness.”
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her in his arms with passionate intent, but despite their impromptu dance and their closeness now, she had given him not one sign that she would welcome such an advance from him.
In the end, he didn’t dare.