A Wedding In Springtime(73)

“Once the engagement has been accepted and announced, you shall have access to the funds to discharge your embarrassments.”

“I much appreciate it, Lord Bremerton.”

“I would much appreciate it if you took her off my hands and let my household get back to peace.” Lord Bremerton returned to his paper.





Twenty-four





Almack’s Assembly Rooms. Genie walked into the prestigious social club and was not disappointed by the lavish interior of marble inlays and gilt railings. A full orchestra provided engaging musical selections and the main attraction of the ballroom was to join the dance. Since dancing was an occupation Genie enjoyed, she entered the hallowed halls with every expectation of being pleased. Particularly if the one responsible for her voucher was here.

She smoothed her green, shimmering, silk gown with her hands in new, long, white gloves. Her brother’s emeralds dangled from her ears, making her feel expensive and somehow dangerous.

“Heaven’s sake, child, do not fidget,” whispered her aunt. “You must do what you can to appear respectable.”

Appear respectable. As if she were conducting some huge masquerade on the unsuspecting London society. Advice from so many well-intentioned people rang in her ears, mostly a long list of things she should not do. But tonight, she did not care. She was going to dance with whomever asked, laugh if she was amused, yes, and even talk about hay if she chose. Well, maybe her aunt was right about not mentioning hay, but otherwise she intended to enjoy herself.

“Whatever you do, do not dance with Mr. Grant,” said her aunt.

“Aunt Cora, I do believe we have Mr. Grant to thank for the invitation tonight. I fear I must dance with him.”

“Perhaps,” muttered her aunt. “But don’t appear to enjoy his company.”

“I fear I am not that practiced of an actress.” Genie scanned the room for the impeccable form of Mr. Grant, but he was not to be found. She was disappointed, for it had been her expectation that Mr. Grant would be waiting to claim the first dance as he had done before.

Instead, Mr. Blakely caught her eye and walked toward her.

“Here comes Mr. Blakely. Be nice, do not ruin this for me, Genie,” whispered her aunt.

Genie sighed. Her aunt could dampen even the most ardent of lovers.

“Good evening, Lady Bremerton, Miss Talbot.” Mr. Blakely gave his bow. He was dressed in a nicely cut midnight blue coat, with the required light breeches. He gave her a warm smile, and although he was no Grant, he appeared perfectly amiable.

“May I have the honor of the first dance?” he asked, holding out a white gloved hand.

“Thank you, yes,” smiled Genie.

They walked out onto the dance floor, where Genie discovered Mr. Blakely was a fine stepper, his feet light, never missing a step. He was almost as good a dancer as Mr. Grant. With the number of couples present and the intricacies of the dance, it was almost impossible to have conversation, but afterward, Mr. Blakely escorted her to have some lemonade.

“So what do you think of Almack’s?” he asked.

“I am enjoying myself. I do love to dance.”

“It is an enjoyment we share. I think perhaps we share many interests.” He smiled at her, his brown eyes inviting.

“Is that so? What other interests do we share save dancing?”

“We enjoy history, seeing the London sights, good books, and the country, and I hope you will forgive me for saying it, but we both enjoy laughing.”

“Ah, you are a cruel man to bring up my ruin. And here I am trying to show myself to best advantage. Besides, I have never known you to laugh.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true. It is something I would like to learn. Something I need to learn.” He looked away, the smile gone from his eyes.

“Is there something the matter?”

“After the death of my father, I have not had much laughter in my life. Perhaps you can help me find it.” He took her hand and led her farther into the back of the room, along the wall, where they found a cushioned bench. She took a seat and he sat beside her, taking both of her hands in his.

Genie’s heart raced and she felt the room grow uncomfortably hot. Is this what love felt like or fear?

“Forgive me for being forward, for I know we have not known each other long, but I feel I must take this opportunity to speak. I understand your aunt hopes to see a wedding for you soon, and I want to make my wishes known before another speaks ahead of me. Miss Talbot—Genie, I love the way you make me smile, I love the blue of your eyes, I simply love you. I think we would suit well together, since you are accustomed to country life and that is what I have to offer. Would you consider making me the happiest man on earth and consent to be my wife?”