Royal Regard

Chapter Six, Part 2

About an hour later, Nick made his way back to her. "Lady Huntleigh, I had not meant to keep you from the dancing."

She looked up in surprise. "My goodness, Your Grace, you startled me. Are you finished with your business then?" She peered around him, twisting her hands together. "Is my husband behind you?"

"Any moment." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "You needn't call me 'Your Grace,' you know. You are an unquestioned countess now, not a country-mouse-come-to-Town."

She made a concerted effort to disengage her fidgety hands, but merely moved them from her waist to begin worrying the fabric of her skirt. "Hardly unquestioned, Your Grace." She conceded with a nod, almost in a whisper, "Duke." She couldn't stop the nervous twitching of a wallflower, which might explain her not dancing, if one discounted gossip as the more likely justification.

Before they had retired to play whist, Nick had noted her faintly injured glances toward Lord Huntleigh. They must have had a fight before the party, or Huntleigh said something thoughtless or hurtful. It wasn't so important she would feign a megrim to go home, but not so small she would forget by morning. Though most women would be flagrantly flirting with every man present to make known any upset with their husbands.

Huntleigh, Nick had discovered in the card room, saw nothing wrong at all, just a youthful, compliant, entirely respectable girl who did everything he asked. He had been nothing but generous in everything he said about her, though never as besotted as some old men become about their young wives. She was a veritable paragon, to hear her husband tell it—as hostess and nursemaid and housekeeper and opponent at backgammon. He probably didn't even realize she might be pleasing in the bedroom.

Nick would be doing this poor young lady a service, paying her a bit of attention, he told himself, liven things up a bit. Every woman deserves to know when a gentleman thinks she's pretty, and any husband unaware his wife is upset with him really had no right to keep her. Nick was flabbergasted Huntleigh didn't realize they had been having a disagreement all evening, perhaps longer.

"I must apologize for requiring so much of Lord Huntleigh's time. I had no idea you might not find other partners, or I would never have spirited him away."

"It is of no concern. My husband only ever attends parties to advance his business, and I keep myself entertained. The Estermore's picture gallery rivals any I've seen outside a royal residence or museum."

"I shall make a point of viewing it, so we might have a topic of conversation next time we meet." He paused, uncertain if his usual gambit would produce a positive result, but more impatient than usual in his pursuit. "Unless you should like to adjourn there to guide me through the collection."

She took two blatant steps away, but couldn't help her body turning toward him, eyes dropping. "I entertain myself, Sir, not gentlemen of my husband's acquaintance."

He immediately withdrew his impropriety, but not entirely the intent. "Such a shame you should have to entertain yourself in the absence of admiring company."

She looked around at the crowds either staring pointedly away from her or talking about her behind their hands, and shrugged one shoulder. "I prefer my own society to the entertainments of the Season."

"Do you?" He had seen the momentary longing on her face as she watched the couples dancing by, ladies dresses shimmering like precious jewels under the candlelight, but not half as magnificent as her hair. A few loose strands fell from her upswept coiffure, draping like antique gold down the side of her face, her eyes set like sapphires on a diadem.

She glanced toward him to gauge his sincerity, collecting her conversation. He saw the lonely young lady she must have been as a debutante, and prepared himself to carry the conversation, if he managed to make her nervous enough to lose her head.

"Surely you have heard I am the biggest wallflower on Earth, well familiar with the edges of a dance floor."

"I have only heard you charmed your husband's associates and the king's ambassadors all over the globe," he half-lied, "and you are as responsible as Huntleigh for his many successes."

Her face turned away as a wall sconce flickered as though it would burn out. He could only be so lucky as to suddenly have a dimmer corner in which to carry out his quest.

"You will gain no advantage trying to please me. My husband will only take into account you tried and hold it against you."

"Surely I am at an advantage among friends, and it behooves me to cultivate such relationships."

"You are more likely to make me a friend, Wellbridge," Huntleigh interjected as he limped toward them, not a moment or two before the lamp sputtered out, "by cultivating relationships with everyone else's wife." He turned to her. "Have we kept you waiting too long, my dear?"

She slipped her hand into her husband's. "Of course not, darling, but I do so want to dance."

Huntleigh looked like she'd suggested he take his shoes off to be filleted for his supper. "Did you not already—? I mean, people are dancing. Is there no one—? Er—?" He looked hopefully back at the card room. "Surely we agreed on—"

Her head dropped, "You did ask I only speak with Lord Anson, nothing more, but the Pinnesters are now in attendance so perhaps Lord Enstrom might—Just one set?"

She stopped before the gossip ran pêle-mêle across the room. "No one knows me anymore. I suppose I should be grateful." All three of them knew the problem was too many people knew her. "Charlotte cannot be expected to entertain me all evening and Alexander—" She looked over at Nick. "I mean, Lord Firthley—"

"—is in the card room," Nick finished. He looked over at her husband, pointedly taking in the cane and Huntleigh's bad leg. "By the Knight's Creed, man, I swear I have no sinful designs on your wife, but she has been waiting like a saint to dance, and her suffering is all down to me. I think it only right I partner her for the next figure, since I am a very good dancer, and she is tapping her toe. The music is winding down; a new set will start in just a few minutes. What say you, Huntleigh?"

Huntleigh's delight at avoiding even the question of dancing warred with concern about Nick's prurient interests. In the end, he waved away any worry with a misplaced sense of confidence.

"Dearest, if you would like to indulge Wellbridge in a dance, you may, but you needn't entertain his addresses if you prefer not. He is entirely too brazen, but you have always proven quite capable of keeping a nobleman in his place."

Lady Huntleigh's fear of anyone observing her notice of the Duke of Wellbridge, especially the duke himself, crossed her face faster than gossip through the ladies of the ton. She couldn't hide a bit of what she was thinking. Nick was charmed again, though he felt a twinge of guilt finding himself pleased by the pained expression. And he was well aware her husband had seen her flashes of interest and was now rethinking his permission.

Before he had the chance, Lady Huntleigh said, "You must not be so familiar with the duke, husband," looking back and forth between them, "but if you would like me to dance with your business associate, of course, I will make no objection."

As the orchestra took up the next selection, Nick held his hand out for her. "What luck for me. A waltz." She placed her gloved hand in his, and he felt a trembling she couldn't control.

"Behave yourself, Wellbridge," Huntleigh admonished as Nick settled his hand at Lady Huntleigh's waist, and they swept into the current of the ballroom.