Pas De Deux

Part 11

The Earl called on the Romanoff residence on a sunny morning with a resolute stride. He asked the driver to pull out the coach right outside the main gate so that there could be no mistaking for the prying onlookers that it was indeed their residence he was visiting at a peak hour of the day.

All the members of the Ton had already received their invitation to attend the ball at Whitmore and there was only one more card to deliver. One that he had planned a while ago to bring in person.

As the valet let him in, he stiffened slightly, both eager and nervous at the prospect of seeing Natasha again.

He was led up the staircase to the empty main room and politely asked to wait for the Baroness. As the valet closed the door and he was left alone, the Earl stood quietly and his gaze began to wander around the room. It dwelled on the books neatly organised on the shelves by the wall, and a couple lying on the small table by the armchair — he couldn't help but wonder if it was the book she had been reading lately.

In fact, his eyes probed in search of objects and other evidence of her presence that he had missed dearly. And as he was only minutes away from reuniting with her, emotions began pouring in.

Thankfully, the door opened again and the Baroness entered with a courteous smile that hardly concealed her bewildered expression.

"Earl Rogers, it is a pleasure to welcome you here again," she said as she curtsied and he answered with a bow.

"Thank you for having me, Baroness."

She motioned to him to sit on the sofa by her side. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she asked after he had settled.

Sitting so closely to the Baroness, he came to observe and appreciate her natural grace. She looked different from Natasha, with her brown hair and dark eyes but had sharp facial features, such as her well-defined cheekbones and jaw, which reminded him of her daughter. The Baroness, regardless of her more mature age, was a beautiful woman whose piercing and probing gaze let on her strong-willed spirit. A lot like her daughter, too.

He smiled. "As you may have heard, my mother and I will be hosting a ball next Saturday," he began and Melina's eyes flickered slightly, "We were discussing the details of it and we mutually agreed that we would like to make your family our special guests."

Her brows furrowed in bafflement. "Our family, Lord Rogers?" she repeated.

His smile was warm and soothing. "We would be privileged to have your company. The Baron, yourself, Miss Yelena and Miss Romanoff."

This was when her face lit up but then she paused with a grave expression. "Lord Rogers, I could not be more pleased by your invitation — which I take as a sign of friendship, and it is in the name of this friendship that I must speak frankly," she trailed off. "You may probably have heard the latest story that is affecting my family — and that you are too courteous to address today— but I cannot, in good conscience, not forewarn you about the implications this extended invitation may have on yourself and the Dowager Countess. I shouldn't forgive myself if your and your mother's kindness was returned with a smeared reputation."

And she put her hand on his forearm. The gesture was caring and somewhat motherly.

He glanced down at it and lay his other hand on top of hers.

"Your frankness honours you," he answered, and his words sounded familiar. "And I assure you my mother and I pay no attention to hearsay and nor are we swayed by it. And we would be honoured if Miss Romanoff accepted to join. In fact," he paused with a grin, "the only favour I ask is that I invite her in person."

Melina smiled ear to ear and her hand squeezed his forearm. She called the valet and they both sat back straight. When the man entered, she asked that her daughter would come to the sitting room momentarily.