Where Dreams Begin(66)

“Miss Bronson,” Jason said to Elizabeth with extreme casualness, “are you enjoying the evening so far?”

Elizabeth fiddled with the silver dance card and made a show of adjusting the ribbon around her wrist. “Very much, Mr. Somers.”

Staring at Elizabeth's down-bent head, with all the silky dark curls confined with pins, Jason spoke a bit gruffly. “I thought I should approach you before every place on your dance card was filled—or is it already too late?”

“Hmmm…let me see…” Elizabeth flipped back the silver lid and consulted the tiny pages, deliberately drawing out the moment. Holly bit back a smile, knowing that Elizabeth had followed her advice and saved a few spaces for just an occasion such as this. “I suppose I could squeeze you in somewhere,” Elizabeth said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “The second waltz, perhaps?”

“The second waltz it is,” he said. “I'll be interested to discover if your dancing skills are more advanced than your architectural taste.”

Elizabeth responded to the little jab by turning to Holly and adopting a look of round-eyed puzzlement. “Is that an example of witty repartee, my lady?” she asked, “or is he by chance saving that for later?”

“I believe,” Holly said with a soft laugh, “that Mr. Somers is attempting to provoke you.”

“Really.” Elizabeth turned back to Jason. “Does that technique usually attract many girls, Mr. Somers?”

“I'm not trying to attract all that many,” he said with a sudden grin. “Only one, in fact.”

Smiling, Holly watched as Elizabeth clearly wondered if she was the one he wished to attract.

Jason turned to Paula and inquired if he might procure her some refreshment. When Paula refused with a shy smile, Jason looked back at Elizabeth. “Miss Bronson, may I escort you to the refreshment table for a cup of punch before the dancing begins?”

Elizabeth nodded, a pulse beating visibly in her throat as she took his arm.

As the pair walked away, Holly thought that they were an exceedingly well-matched pair, both of them attractive, tall and slim. It was possible that Jason, with all his youthful energy and self-confident manliness, was the perfect foil for Elizabeth. The girl needed to be courted and charmed and swept off her feet. She needed someone to banish the streak of cynicism and self-doubt that kept her from feeling worthy of a man's love.

“Look at them,” Holly murmured to Paula. “A handsome pair, are they not?”

Paula managed to look both worried and hopeful at the same time. “My lady, do you think a man as fine as that would ever want to marry a girl like Lizzie?”

“I would hope—expect—that any man of good sense would want someone as special as Elizabeth. And my cousin is no fool.”

Lady Plymouth, a heavyset, cheerful woman with a florid complexion, approached them with a delighted exclamation. “My dear Mrs. Bronson,” she said, taking Paula's hands in her plump ones and pressing warmly. “I have no wish to rob Lady Holland of your company, but I simply must steal you away for a little while. I have some friends I would like to introduce you to, and then, of course, we must visit the refreshment table. These events become so fatiguing unless one has sufficient sustenance.”

“Lady Holland,” Paula said, helplessly looking back over her shoulder as she was dragged away, “if you don't mind…?”

“Go on,” Holly urged with a smile. “I'll watch over Elizabeth when she returns.” She felt a rush of gratitude toward Lady Plymouth, having privately asked her to introduce Paula to a few ladies who would be most likely to receive her. “Mrs. Bronson is quite shy,” Holly had confided to Lady Plymouth, “but she is the most pleasantnatured lady in the world, full of common sense and good will…If only you might take her under your wing and show her around.” Her appeal had apparently touched Lady Plymouth's kind heart. Also, Lady Plymouth was hardly averse to receiving the gratitude of a man like Zachary Bronson for being kind to his mother.

Seeing that Holly was unescorted, at least three men rapidly headed toward her from different parts of the room. It was not lost on Holly that her wine-red gown was attracting more attention than she had ever received in her life. “No, thank you,” she said repeatedly, as she was beset with requests for various dances. She displayed her gloved wrist and its lack of a dance card. “I'm not dancing this evening…thank you so much for asking…I'm truly honored, but on…” The men did not leave, however, on matter how firmly she refused. Two more appeared, bearing cups of punch to assuage her thirst, and another came with a plate of tiny sandwiches to tempt her appetite. Their efforts to capture her interest escalated rapidly, men elbowing and jostling each other in an effort to stand closer to her.

Holly's surprise at the flood of attention became tempered with a bit of alarm. She had never been so besieged. When she had been a young, white-gowned girl, her chaperones had carefully supervised all interactions with males, and as a married matron, she had been protected by her husband. But her appearance in the red gown—and no doubt the rumors and insinuations about her presence in the Bronson household—had combined to attract a great deal of masculine interest.

Only one man could have cut through the mob. All of a sudden Zachary Bronson shouldered his way into the tightly packed crowd, looking impossibly large and dark, and a bit irate. It was only now, when she saw Bronson standing amid so many other men, that Holly realized how he was able to intimidate them all by sheer virtue of his size. She felt an inappropriate but delicious thrill as he took her arm possessively and glared at the horde around them. “My lady,” he said brusquely, his cold gaze continuing to survey the group, “may I have a word with you?”