The Waltzing Widow (12 page)

Lady Mary moved off to join Lady Cecily, who was sitting on a settee a little removed from the milling crowd. “Good evening. Lady Cecily. I hope that I see you well,” she said as she seated herself beside her friend.

Lady Cecily was fanning her flushed face. “Yes, very well—if you discount how miserably hot and unwieldy I feel. I shall be so happy to begin my confinement, simply to have it done with!''

Lady Mary laughed. Her gray eyes twinkled with amused sympathy. “I seem to recall that same devout wish. I believe it is always such toward the end."

"Is it truly?” Lady Cecily asked in hope. “How very kind of you to reassure me that there
is
an end."

Lady Mary laughed again, and that was how the Earl of Kenmare saw her when he came up to the ladies. He had a lemonade in one hand, which he proffered to his sister, and Lady Cecily seized on the glass gratefully. After greeting his sister's companion, Lord Kenmare raised an inquiring brow. “Would you care for refreshment as well, my lady?"

"Not at the moment, thank you, my lord,'’ Lady Mary said.

The three talked companionably for a few moments. Then Major Wilson-Jones, who had managed to arrange leave from his duties in order to escort his wife for the evening, came up. He was of average height and wiry, with keen flashing eyes, and was of a humorous nature that Lady Mary had instantly liked upon their first meeting a few weeks before. He hailed his wife and brother-in-law jauntily and bowed to Lady Mary. “I hope that you shall not mind it, my lady, but I've come to borrow my wife for a few moments. I have but just this moment discovered the doors into the garden, and—"

"Oh, Reginald! Have you actually?” Lady Cecily exclaimed.

Major Wilson-Jones laughed. He offered his arm to her. “Indeed, I have, Cecy. Pray, will you join me?"

"Shall I, indeed!” Lady Cecily got up from the settee with alacrity. She gave her mischievous smile to Lady Mary. “I do apologize for running away in such a hurried fashion, Lady Mary, but the prospect of being out of this press for a few moments is too enticing to be denied."

Lady Mary smiled. “I am not in the least affronted.” She watched the major solicitously escort his wife through the crowd. “Major Wilson-Jones is a thoroughly agreeable gentleman,” she said to the earl.

"I could not wish for a better man for my sister,” Lord Kenmare agreed. He nodded at the dancers whirling over the floor. “I particularly noticed that Miss Spence appears in exceptionally fine looks this evening. It is no wonder that she is popular with the young officers."

"Yes,” Lady Mary said. She watched her daughter for a moment and then glanced up at the gentleman standing beside her. He was still regarding Abigail's gay progress over the floor, with the faintest of smiles on his lips. Not for the first time it crossed Lady Mary's mind that Lord Kenmare displayed an unusual interest in her daughter's social success. Whenever they met, he never failed to convey a compliment to her regarding Abigail. Perhaps the viscountess had not been so far off the mark in considering his lordship as a potential match for Abigail, and certainly to attach him would be a triumph for any young girl.

Lord Kenmare had a great deal to offer besides his wealth and his title. He was in his prime, virile and handsome, and he was a man of intelligence. He was also unfailingly courteous toward herself and to those for whom she cared. William had commented not two days previously that he had run into Lord Kenmare in the park and had been both gratified and astonished at his lordship's friendly manner. Even though Lord Kenmare was at least twenty years Abigail's senior, Abigail could do far worse, reflected Lady Mary. She wondered why the thought did not bring her greater pleasure. She must be the most unnatural mother alive, she thought with an uncharacteristic flash of irritation at herself.

"What do you say to it, my lady?"

Lady Mary abruptly realized that Lord Kenmare had been speaking to her for some seconds and she had not a clue to what he had said. The color stole into her face as she confessed, “Pray forgive me, my lord! I fear that I was not perfectly attending. What was it you were saying?"

Lord Kenmare stared at her, feeling more astonished than insulted. It was a novel experience for him to discover that his presence was so taken for granted that the lady to whom he had been speaking had not heard a word he had said, especially when he had just put forth a suggestion for an outing in his company. Perhaps to ask Lady Mary to go driving with him was not as brilliant a notion as he had originally thought.

Looking up at him, Lady Mary had the most lowering prescience that Lord Kenmare had asked for her permission to pay particular attentions to her daughter. The thought unaccountably filled her with warring emotions of triumph and dismay. The viscountess would have had no difficulty in forming a reply to the earl, but Lady Mary discovered that she was not yet ready to see her daughter seriously courted for her hand. And surely that was what his lordship intended, she thought.

Lord Kenmare found his voice. He was not an uncourageous man, but it did seem rather unfair that he must fly in the face of the lady's apparent disinterest to repeat his invitation. However, he was not one to quail prematurely at an obstacle, and so he decided to plow on. “I merely inquired whether—"

At that instant a mutual acquaintance interrupted their
tête-à-tête,
perhaps fortunately from both Lady Mary's and the earl's standpoint. The moment was lost. Lord Kenmare did not open the issue again. He was beginning to wonder whether his budding interest in Lady Mary might not be entirely misplaced.

He had initially been drawn to her because she seemed less self-absorbed than so many of the ladies of his acquaintance. He had realized early on that Lady Mary was proud of her offspring and he had set himself to make himself agreeable to her by entering into her natural interest in their well-being. He had taken pains to be affable to Ensign Spence whenever he had chanced to meet the boy, when otherwise he might have passed him by with only a polite nod for a slight acquaintance. He had endeavored to convey gentle encouragement to Abigail and had even once or twice brought her to the notice of those who might be expected to take up with a young miss just out. He had thought these unusual efforts must be looked upon with gratitude by Lady Mary and engender in her a wish to further their own friendly relationship, and so was explained his abortive invitation to her, but apparently this was not the case.

As Lord Kenmare watched Lady Mary borne off on the arm of their mutual acquaintance in search of the refreshment table, his mouth turned upward in a faintly quizzical smile. This evening's setback had but firmed his determination. He was attracted to Lady Mary Spence, and by the Lord Harry, he was going to do all in his power to break through that clear wall that she moved so gracefully behind.

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The Duke of Wellington held balls continually at his house, which, like the Earl of Kenmare's residence and that of Sir Charles Stuart, the British ambassador, faced on the park. The duke was a jovial host and he enjoyed nothing better than to watch his staff, who were all scions of prominent houses and very accomplished in the social graces and the dance, twirl about with the ladies to the strains of the waltz. His grace was to be seen standing about speaking animatedly, his tall immaculate figure negligent in stance, and occasionally he would break out in his hearty horse's laugh. He seemed not to have a care in the world except to see to the enjoyment of his guests.

It was a wonderment to Brussels society, which watched the allied armies’ commander-in-chief with unblinking attention. The Duke of Wellington displayed not the least perturbation over the continued reports of Napoleon Bonaparte's growing army and its determined advance on the Low Countries, nor the fact that the troops at his disposal were rumored to be outnumbered two to one. His grace's demeanor was such that many who had before expressed alarm were now come to the conclusion that their anxieties were completely unwarranted.

The populace of Brussels was all too eager to forget the ominous signs of war and plunged into a renewed frenzy of gaiety. His grace the Duke of Wellington stood tall among them, and all was well.

The duke was known to have been estranged from his wife for several years, she not once having left England to join him during all the years and all the campaigns. It was not thought surprising, then, that his grace appreciated feminine beauty. When Lady Mary Spence was introduced to him, he swept an approving glance over her, from the incongruous lace cap on her chestnut hair to her neat figure. With a gallantry unsurpassed, he raised her hand to his lips and complimented her. She passed on down the receiving line, flattered but a little embarrassed.

Later in the evening, the Duke of Wellington approached her to stand up with him on the dance floor. When she demurred, pointing out that she sat on the matrons’ side of the room, he brushed aside the excuse. “Pooh, madam! What has that to say to anything? You are alive until they put you in the ground,” he said with his characteristic forthrightness.

Lady Mary gave a startled laugh. Feeling that she had been left with little choice, and in truth she was very flattered that the hero of the moment desired to dance with her when there were any score of ladies who eagerly awaited the honor, she allowed herself to be drawn from her chair and escorted onto the floor. “I am naturally most happy to accept, your grace,” she said. “However, I must warn you that I have not had much practice for years. You may have cause for regret."

The duke's famous horse laugh made others turn in curiosity, among them Lord Kenmare. His brows shot up when he saw who it was that the duke had as his partner. His sleeve was caught in a sharp nip.

"Robert! Do you see?"

He did not turn his head in the direction of his sister's sibilant and astonished whisper. “Indeed, Cecy, I am quite riveted by the sight,” he said, starting to grin. “Pray excuse me, dear sister. I have an objective to place in motion.” Without paying heed to Lady Cecily's demand of an explanation, he started to make his leisurely way toward Lady Mary's empty chair.

At the end of the set, when the Duke of Wellington escorted Lady Mary back to her place, they found the Earl of Kenmare awaiting them. Lady Mary thanked his grace for his courtesy, expecting that to be the end of his interest in her. But apparently he knew the earl, for he greeted him in a pleased fashion. “Ah, Robert! It is good to see you. I hear good things of you from the Duke of Brunswick. Pity you are not one of my staff."

Lord Kenmare bowed. “That same thought has often occurred to me, your grace,” he said dryly.

The duke brayed an appreciative laugh at the compliment. He gestured toward the lady seated beside them. “You are acquainted with Lady Mary, of course?"

Lord Kenmare bowed to Lady Mary and smiled at her. “Indeed, your grace, we are quite old friends by now."

Lady Mary laughed and shook her head. She gave her hand to him in greeting. “Good evening, my lord. Yes, we are indeed old friends."

"Then you already know what a wonderfully light dancer Lady Mary is,” Wellington said, raising her hand once more to his lips. “I found no cause for regret in your performance, my lady."

Lady Mary's eyes flew to Lord Kenmare's face. She colored slightly as he regarded her with laughter in his eyes. “I have not had the honor, your grace,” he said levelly.

The Duke of Wellington regarded him in astonishment. “Not had the honor? Why ever not, my boy?"

"I ... I have not danced with Lord Kenmare, nor, indeed, with anyone but yourself, your grace,” Lady Mary said, feeling incredibly foolish before the great man's surprise.

The duke turned his keen blue eyes upon her. “My dear ma'am, it is positively criminal to keep such grace as yours bound to a matron's chair,” he said bluntly.

Lady Mary flushed, thoroughly out of countenance. The duke's voice was naturally loud, and others were beginning to take notice of the conversation. She felt ready to sink through the floor, when Lord Kenmare came to her rescue. “Your grace, if you will permit, I shall on the instant correct the situation and request Lady Mary's hand in this next waltz."

"Well done, my lord!” Wellington exclaimed. He turned to Lady Mary for a last word. “I leave you in capable hands, my lady.” Then he was gone to speak to another guest.

Lord Kenmare held out his hand to Lady Mary, who was obviously struggling with several emotions at once. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he suggested.

She could not help laughing. She laid her hand in his and rose from her seat. “I suppose my days of sitting by in quiet respectability are gone, are they not, my lord?"

"Quite irrevocably,'’ Lord Kenmare agreed. He led her onto the floor and took her into his arms just as the waltz struck up. “Once having seen you take the floor, my lady, all Brussels shall come clamoring for the same honor."

Lady Mary laughed somewhat breathlessly. She had not been held in such intimate fashion for a very long time. She was acutely aware of his light clasp on her right hand, the way that his arm encircled her, and the warmth of his hand against her back. The harmony of their steps and turns gave her a curious sensation of floating.

Lord Kenmare glanced down at the lady in his arms. He was smiling. “I hope that you do not think badly of me, Lady Mary."

She met his gaze with surprise in her eyes. “Whatever do you mean, my lord? Why should I?"

"I made a point of being beside your chair when his grace brought you off the floor,” Lord Kenmare said.

"Are you saying that you knew that the duke would insist upon my dancing with you?” Lady Mary said.

"Let us say that I rather hoped he would,” Lord Kenmare amended.

"How very enterprising of you,” Lady Mary said.

She was then silent for such a long moment that he began to fear that he had indeed angered her. “My lady? Forgive me, it was not my intention to offend you,” he said anxiously.

She looked up and her gray eyes were exceedingly cool. “Offended, my lord? On the contrary, I am greatly flattered. However, I am having difficulty in understanding your motive.''