A lump of panic grew in Lily’s throat. Surely I won’t need to marry that quickly. I really only need to get engaged. Once I accept an offer, I will just inform my newly intended of Papa’s dilemma, and once that obligation to Lord Kirk is paid, we can take our time getting to know each other before actually marching down the aisle. Yes. That’s what we’ll do.
Lily suddenly realized that both the duchess and Lady Charlotte were looking at her as if awaiting an answer. Not sure what they’d been saying, she nodded and murmured, “Of course.”
The duchess beamed. “I think you’ll find we’re right. Huntley is an excellent choice.”
They are very determined that I like this earl. I hope I do. She managed a smile.
“If, of course, he appeals to you,” Lady Charlotte said kindly.
“And if I appeal to him, too,” Lily said.
“Oh, we’ve no fear on that score.” The duchess patted the pugs in her lap while she beamed at Lily. “Your biddable nature alone will recommend you to him.”
“Biddable nature”? Good God.
Lady Charlotte smiled. “If only we can get him to come to the point before the Butterfly Ball. Then he could announce it right then. Oh, it would make the event so memorable.”
“Charlotte, what a delightful thought!” The duchess couldn’t have looked happier. “That settles it: Lily, Huntley will make you an offer and he will do it before the ball.”
The duchess spoke with such firmness that Lily began to feel sorry for the unknown earl. This is getting out of hand. “Your grace, I can’t—”
Mrs. Cairness entered carrying a tea tray.
“Ah, tea!” The duchess peered at the tray. “I’m famished.”
Lily was left to wait as the housekeeper filled the teacups and handed out tea cakes. Finally, she left.
As soon as the housekeeper was gone, Lily said, “I am very grateful for your help, your grace, but what if Huntley isn’t the one for me?”
“He will be, if you’ll let him.” The duchess sipped her tea. “He’s a lovely man.”
“Oh yes,” Lady Charlotte added, her soft blue-gray eyes shining with enthusiasm. “So distinguished.”
“Very handsome, too,” the duchess added. “One of the handsomest earls I’ve yet to meet.” The two pugs in her lap were now wide-awake and staring intently at her tea cake. “In addition, I’ve been grooming Huntley for you.”
“We both have.” Lady Charlotte licked butter off her fingers, looking like a plump fairy. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Lily wondered if the pigs on Lady Charlotte’s home farm had seen what was coming their way. She tried to look appreciative, though it took quite a bit of effort. “It was quite kind of you to mention me.”
“It was my pleasure,” the duchess assured her. “Huntley’s been a bit of a recluse since his wife died, but—”
“Wife? Pardon me, but . . . he’s a widower?”
“Oh yes. He was quite attached to his first wife and refused to enter company for several years after her death.”
“But now he’s back in society.” Lady Charlotte dipped a spoon into a jar of marmalade and spread it over her tea cake. “But you needn’t fear that he developed a new interest in that time, for he hasn’t. We asked him.”
“You asked him?”
“Of course.” The duchess set down her teacup. “How else would we discover his situation? He was a bit reluctant at first to discuss his private life, but Charlotte quite won him over.”
“Yes, first I told him that it was obvious that he was once again joining the ranks of the eligible, and I would hate to waste his time introducing him to every female the duchess and I know. We know quite a few, too.”
“Many.” The duchess chuckled. “You should have seen his face! But it did the trick, for he revealed what he was looking for in the way of a wife. And what he told us made us very hopeful for you, my dear!”
Lily looked down at her teacup. A wealthy, handsome earl looking for a wife . . . what more could she ask for? Yet in her mind’s eye arose a vision of a large man, his shock of black hair framing brilliant green eyes, his dark, accented voice rumbling through her.
But that was not to be. Lily pushed the memory aside and met the gaze of her expectant hostesses. Steeling her heart, she swallowed her misgivings and firmly faced her future. “That’s lovely. I look forward to meeting the earl. I’m sure we’ll suit very well.”
The duchess and Lady Charlotte beamed and began to discuss the various events they’d planned for the coming few weeks.
Six
From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe The stage is set, the players cast. All that’s left is to open the curtain. . . .
“Have all of the guests arrived?” The duchess was resplendent in blue silk with cream rosettes, her red wig adorned with an emerald pin that matched her necklace and earrings.
Standing in the wide doorway leading to the ballroom, Charlotte looked at MacDougal.
He bowed. “Everyone on the list is here except Lord Huntley. He hasna’ arrived yet, yer grace.”
Margaret frowned. “I ran into him in the hallway after dinner and I specifically asked him to arrive early so that I could introduce him to Miss Balfour.” She hesitated. “I wonder if I was a bit too forward when I did so.”
“You think he took offense?”
“I hope not.” The duchess was silent a moment as she regarded her other guests, who were talking and laughing and watching the dancing, which had just begun. Finally she sighed. “I thought I detected a hint—just a hint—of stubbornness in his lordship’s demeanor when I spoke to him about Lily.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh dear.”
“He was polite, but no more. Perhaps he’s sending us a not-so-subtle message, which is that he will not be manipulated.”
“That quite upsets our plans.”
Margaret frowned. “Our plans don’t call for us to manipulate anyone. We’re merely giving two people a chance to meet and, if so inclined, fall in love.”
“Oh. Quite right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I do hope he overcomes it; I cannot imagine that Miss Balfour would enjoy a stubborn man.” Margaret looked around the room, her irritation seeping away as she watched the couples twirl about her dance floor. “For an opening dance, we’ve an excellent turnout.” She sighed. “I wished to introduce our potential couple while no one was about. Now Miss Balfour will meet her earl for the first time here in the ballroom, in front of the other guests.”
“At least they’ll both be dressed in their finest.”
“That’s true. I’ve no doubt Huntley will outshine every man present.”
“And Miss Balfour will outshine every woman. Oh, Margaret, it will be so romantic!”
“Excessively so.” Margaret eyed the refreshment table. “MacDougal, put out more cake and sliced ham. I won’t have it said that I scrimp on refreshments.”
“Yes, yer grace.” The butler stepped to one side to murmur orders to a waiting footman, then returned to his post just as a murmur arose at the door.
“It’s about time,” the duchess said.
The earl stood in the doorway as a footman announced him and his companion.
“Who is that with him?” Lady Charlotte asked.
“That’s Miss Emma Gordon. She’s a friend of Huntley’s. She was bosom bows with his wife before she died.”
“Oh dear, you don’t think—”
“No, no. Huntley says she is like a sister, and I believe that says it all.”
“Ah. So Miss Balfour need not worry.”
“Hardly. She has the advantage of looks and youth, for she’s at least ten years younger than Miss Gordon.” The duchess glanced around the room. “Where is she?”
“She’s speaking with Lady MacKenna by the punch bowl.”
“Good. Wave her over, will you? Huntley’s on his way to us now.”
Across the ballroom, Lady MacKenna squinted toward the door.
“Pardon me, Miss Balfour, but it looks as if Lady Charlotte is signaling for you to join her.”
Lily instantly knew why. Her heart thudding sickly, she looked for the closest exit. But, no. I can’t run. Think about Papa. She collected herself as well as she could, made her excuses to Lady MacKenna, then walked toward Lady Charlotte and the duchess, refusing to look at the small group gathered there. Just stay calm.
As she walked past a mirror, she swiftly glanced at her gown and hair. She’d made her gown, a deceptively simple affair of white lace over a deep blue silk undergown. The gown sported delicate cap sleeves and gathered beneath her breasts with a wide, white silk ribbon. The neckline was scooped and unadorned, and she wore only a simple pair of sapphire earrings that had once belonged to her mother.
She smoothed her skirt with one hand, her dance card swinging at the wrist of her elbow-length glove. The duchess let no detail go unnoticed, and the card was folded like a fan with a gold cord looped about one end. Perhaps Huntley will ask me to dance. I’m sure the duchess would tell me that he is a superb dancer. She can find no fault in the man.
No man could be all of the things the duchess seemed to think him—handsome, wealthy, and pleasant. Still, if the earl were simply wealthy and pleasant, Lily would be be well pleased. She reached Lady Charlotte and dipped a curtsy. “Lady Charlotte, you wished to speak wi—”
“There you are!” Her grace tucked an arm though Lily’s and turned her toward a tall gentleman and a fashionably dressed woman. “Miss Balfour, this is Geoffrey MacKinton, the dashing Earl of Huntley.”
Lily curtsied. “How do you do?”
The duchess beamed. “Huntley, this is my goddaughter, the lovely Miss Lily Balfour.”
Lily’s hand was instantly enveloped in a warm clasp, and she found herself looking up into a pair of sherry-brown eyes that gleamed with humor. He was nearly as tall as Wulf, but not nearly as broad shouldered. And his hair was neatly trimmed, unlike—
I must stop that. Huntley was handsome in a lean, aristocratic way, and that would have to do.
The earl bowed over her hand. “Miss Balfour, we finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And I, you.” She noted the marvelous fit of his coat, which whispered of a master tailor, and the sparkling ruby that twinkled in the depths of his cravat, as well as a matching one in a ring on his finger.
“Allow me to introduce you to a dear friend of mine.” He turned to the tall, elegant woman who’d been standing slightly behind him. “Miss Balfour, this is Miss Emma Gordon. I’ve known her for years and she is almost a sister to me.”
Lily curtsied. As she rose, she exchanged smiles with Miss Gordon. The earl’s friend had brown hair and fine brown eyes, and while not conventionally pretty, she possessed a humorous air that put Lily at ease.
“Miss Balfour, I hear you’re from the same area of the country as my grandfather, near Cromartie. It’s a lovely area.”
“It’s beautiful, but very cold in the winter. The ponds are ice for months on end.”
“Oh, Huntley, you must tell Miss Balfour about how you tried to rescue my poor cat, Tibby, from that iced-over pond.”
He laughed. “No, no. I refuse to embarrass myself.”
“Then I shall tell it for you.” Looking mischievous, Miss Gordon launched into a description of the earl’s many attempts to rescue her cat from an icy pond, only to end up stranded himself. Huntley contributed to the merriment by making droll observations on Miss Gordon’s propensity to exaggerate tales.
The duchess and Lady Charlotte stood back beaming and allowed the three to talk. Finally, the earl glanced at the orchestra. “Miss Balfour, I hate leaving you so abruptly, but I always dance at least one country dance with Emma. After that, however, I would very much enjoy a dance with you if you’ve any left open upon your dance card.”
Lily flushed. “Of course.” She slipped her dance card from her wrist and handed it to him.
He used the small pencil that dangled from the card and wrote upon it. “Thank you.” He returned the card to her. “I took the liberty to claim two dances. I hope you don’t mind.”
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Lady Charlotte give a hop of joy even as the duchess clapped her hands together. Cheeks hot, Lily sank into a curtsy. “I am honored, my lord.”
He bowed. “Until our dance, then.”
With that, he made his farewells to the duchess and Lady Charlotte and escorted Miss Emma to the dance floor.
The second he was gone, Lady Charlotte sighed. “Isn’t he lovely?”
“More than lovely,” the duchess declared. “Well, Lily? What do you think?”
Lily didn’t know what she thought. “He seems very nice, just as you said.”
“And?” Lady Charlotte urged.
“Oh, ah. He’s very handsome, too.”
“Yes?” Lady Charlotte waited.
“Yes.”
The duchess looked disappointed. “Nice? Handsome? That’s all you have to say?”
“He’s—he’s also very tall.”
“He’s perfect,” the duchess said.
In all fairness, Lily had to nod. “He seems so, yes.”
Chortling, Lady Charlotte tucked Lily’s arm in hers. “There, we all agree!”
The duchess beamed, finally happy. “Charlotte, while Lily is waiting to dance with the earl, why don’t you introduce her to some other guests, and see to it that her dance card is filled? She’s far too pretty to be a wallflower.”
“A capital idea! Nothing spurs a gentleman’s interest more than a well-pursued woman.” Lady Charlotte tugged Lily toward the refreshment table. “Ah, there’s Lord Spencer now.”
An hour later, Lily finished dancing with a young viscount who’d talked nonstop about a horse he’d just purchased. He escorted her to the refreshment table to procure her a glass of orgeat, and she escaped him by claiming that she needed to find a retiring room to pin a torn flounce.
As the viscount wandered off, Lily peeked at her dance card, glad to see that the next dance was Huntley’s. Where is he? She stood on tiptoe and thought she saw him on the other side of the dance floor in conversation with a portly man in a striped waistcoat. She could tell from his expression that Huntley was not happy to be so entrapped. I shall rescue him.
She was halfway to the dance floor when a large hand encircled her wrist. Instantly, her skin heated as if she’d been immersed head to toe in warm water, and a deep shiver traced through her. Wulfinski.
“Ah, Miss Lily Balfour.” His husky voice seemed to caress her name. “I look for you and there you are.”
She took a shivery breath, far more pleased to see him than she should be. “Prince Wulfinski, I didn’t expect—”
“Dance with me.” His voice was as deep as the ocean.
“I would, but—”
He turned and walked into the swirling dancers, pulling her ruthlessly behind him.
Lily could either follow him or plant her feet and be yanked onto her face.
Scowling, she scrambled to keep up. “Lord Wulf—your majesty or—Lud, whatever you name is, please slow down! I cannot keep up—”
He came to an abrupt halt and looked down at her. “You cannot keep up, eh? Then I walk slower.” His gaze dropped to her slippers where they peeked from beneath her skirts, a look of distaste on his face. “You cannot walk because of those shoes. Silk is for sheets, not shoes.”
She blinked. “Sheets?” She couldn’t imagine silk sheets. Why, that would cost a fortune.
“Da. You need leather shoes to protect your feet.”
“These shoes are for dancing.”
“Nyet. The women in my country, they would never wear such frivolous footwear.”
“That is their loss. I’ll wear leather shoes while walking in the woods, thank you. But these”—she extended one so that the jeweled buckle sparkled in the candlelight—“are perfect for dancing.”
He sent them a dismissive glance. “I do not like them so mu
ch, but if you do . . .” He shrugged and then said in a gracious tone, “As you wish.”
Fuming, Lily tugged her wrist free. For one second, she’d been glad to see him, her body welcoming him before she had. But now . . . now she just wanted to find Huntley and claim their dance. This is good; the last person I need to be attracted to is a man with no fortune. “Prince Wulfinski, I did not come to this ball to be dragged about the room and have my shoes insulted.”
Surprise crossed his face. “You are upset.”
“Yes, I’m upset. These shoes are beautiful.”
His lips twitched, but he managed to say in a grave voice, “There are many gems glittering upon them, yes.”
Well, paste gems, but no one knew that but Lily. “I love these shoes.”
“Hm. My mother’s shoes are more—” He clipped off the word as if unwilling to finish.
His mother’s shoes what? Were more useful? More utilitarian? More—
Oh. Wulf had told her that he was the poorest of the many princes in Oxenburg. Perhaps that’s all she can afford.
Feeling as small as an ant, Lily tucked her foot back under her skirt. “I’m sure your mother’s shoes are lovely, too, however they look.”
He shrugged. “It matters not. She is not here for us to compare. Come. The music appeals to me.” He put his hands about Lily’s waist, lifted her easily, and set her down directly in front of him. Then, as if she were a marionette, he placed one of her hands upon his shoulder and grasped the other. “We dance, Moya.”
“Wulf, I don’t think—” But they were already moving as, with a sweeping step, he swung her into the twirling couples. To her surprise, he was sure-footed and graceful. It was easy to move with him, and he led with a deft touch that let her know what he wished her to do without her feeling manhandled.
A cacophony of feelings fluttered through her. He lacked Lord Huntley’s elegance, but he more than made up for it in graceful power. His coat might not fit as well, his breeches didn’t cling as was the fashion, but she found him irresistible. And judging by the glances other women kept sliding their way, she wasn’t the only one.