Substitute Bride

On their arrival at Lady Lindsay's, a throng of admirers whom they had met at Lady Matilda's in the previous weeks, surrounded Emma and Abby.
Emma was laughingly allowing Sir Walter Fryer-Smith whom she'd been introduced to at Almacks and liked immediately to write his name against the two remaining dances on her card when she saw the marquis. He stood a short distance away, staring at her. She gasped and grew pale. With an effort she continued the conversation with Sir Walter, mechanically answering his questions while she wondered what to do. She couldn't stay that was certain. She wondered what excuse to give Lady Matilda so she could leave without spoiling her and Abby's evening. She'd looked forward to the ball for weeks and was furious that this of all nights his lordship had turned up when her fear at meeting him had vanished?
When the orchestra struck up a waltz, Sir Walter reluctantly excused himself and left to join his partner.
Emma was about to rise to her feet and go to where Lady Matilda sat with several other dowagers who were enjoying a gossip when the master of ceremonies appeared before her. "Miss Emma Napier," he said in a portentous voice. "May I have permission to present his lordship, the Marquis of Desborough?"
Emma trembled with fright. Her face burnt and her heart thumped madly. Through her confusion she heard his lordship say, "How do you do, Miss Napier."
She couldn't look at him and mumbled a reply, scarcely aware of the master of ceremonies bow before he departed.
"May I have the pleasure of the waltz, Miss Napier?" his lordship asked, holding out his hand.
She swallowed hard and managed to gasp. "I'm sorry, it's already been asked for." She didn't have the dance engaged. She was a novice at the waltz and had refused all her willing partners. She expected his lordship to leave but after a moment's hesitation he sat on the vacant chair beside her.
"I have a feeling we've met before, Miss Napier?"
She was forced to look at him.
He gazed at her in expectance.
"No, we haven't." Her voice was firm though she felt hot and faint. There was a roaring in her ears and she had difficulty breathing. She had to find an excuse to leave but she doubted her ability to walk away without collapsing.
There was a hard look in his dark eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Of, course, I am." He can't prove it was you, she thought feverishly. He saw you in candlelight and he was drunk. She glanced at him, seeing him properly for the first time. Dressed formally in black trousers, black coat, white waistcoat and elaborately tied neck cloth, his lordship looked one of the most attractive men in the ballroom. "I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met you before, my lord." She smiled, trying to sound the coquette like some of the debutantes she'd met.
He looked surprised. For a moment it seemed he didn't know what to say. He rose to his feet.
She was relieved he was leaving but instead he took her arm and drew her to her feet. "It appears your partner isn't going to honour his commitment so will you give me the pleasure of dancing the waltz."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," she protested and tried to pull away but he placed an arm firmly about her waist and swept her among the dancers.
The waltz wasn't danced in Little Gosford and she had to keep her mind on her feet, counting the beats to the music as a former dancing master had instructed.
"Have you been in London long, Miss Napier?" his lordship asked.
"Only a few weeks." She missed a step and stumbled. His arm held her firmly. "I'm sorry," she said, breathless. "I can't make conversation. I must keep my mind on the dance. I'm not familiar with the waltz."
He looked surprised then laughed, saying he'd do his best to guide her. "It's easy once you are used to the rhythm. Relax. It will come naturally."
They circled the ballroom several times. In her concentration, Emma forgot her apprehension of him. "You're doing well," he said.
Her green eyes showed pleasure then she remembered who he was and her smile vanished.
The orchestra paused for an interlude. They stood silently together. Beyond them, a set of wide doors opened into the garden. The Chinese lanterns hanging from the trees made it look a fairyland. Emma saw couples walking together. It would be pleasantly cool among the trees after the warmth of the ballroom but Lady Matilda had warned on no account were they to allow any gentleman to escort them into the garden without a chaperon.
Desborough followed her gaze. "Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Miss Napier?"
She wished she dared act the flirt and accept his offer just to shock him but instead she said primly, "I've been warned by my aunt it's not thought seemly for young ladies to wander in the gardens without a chaperon for fear their reputations would be bandied about the tea tables."
His look was searching. "I'm glad you have a respect for the social mores."
She couldn't stop from adding with some asperity. "I think it's a silly convention. It's nearly as well lit out there as it is in the ballroom and decidedly cooler."
He laughed, and taking her into his arms when the music began, asked, "Who is your aunt?"
"Lady Matilda Langridge," she answered, once more concentrating on the waltz steps.
"I didn't know Lady Matilda had a niece?" he said after a moment's pause.
"I'm her great niece." She stumbled against him.
He held her close.
Immediately she pulled away.
When the dance ended, he escorted her to her seat.
She thanked him and expected him to leave but he sat beside her and took her dance card before she could prevent him. "Allow me to place my name against another waltz. You're improving but you need more tutoring."
She wished she dared snatch the card from him. "You wouldn't want to dance with me again."
"Why not?" He had a mocking expression in his eyes. "You are one of the loveliest women in the ballroom. Give me a reason why I wouldn't want to dance with you?" He smiled when he handed the card back. "I found our waltz most entertaining."
She glanced at the card and found to her chagrin he'd written his name against all the remaining waltzes of the evening.