The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(67)
A blinding smile lit his face, and his gray eyes seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. “I should have expected you to be a wonderful tactician.” He colored slightly and bent his head close to hers. “There’s no sense in keeping the cat in the bag. I’d formally like to discuss my intentions with Miss Julia. I don’t want to go into details here, but I’d like to make my case and gain your approval for a match.”
March squeezed his hand with hers in approval. “I look forward to your visit. But perhaps afterward we should discuss your intentions with the marquess, since he’s Julia’s guardian?”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Lawson. I’ve already spoken to him, and he says the decision should be made by you as the eldest of the family.”
She stumbled slightly at the pronouncement. Once again, her heart fluttered as if preparing to take flight. Perhaps it hovered, suspended in her chest with longing, as if encouraging her to find Michael. She wanted to share the news and then discuss how the earl’s courtship with Julia should proceed. With an ease March hoped didn’t betray her rush, she glanced around the ballroom and found the marquess.
He stood with his father and brother and another man, the Earl of Fletcher, deep in conversation. By Michael’s side, Lady Miranda gazed adoringly up at Michael. March’s stomach dropped at the familiar uncertainty, the familiar sting of jealously, the familiar thoughts of her own unsuitability.
She turned to Queensgrace. His face softened, and he leaned close. “Miss Lawson, the marquess was highly complimentary of your acumen in matters such as these. I believe he mentioned he held you in ‘high regard’ when I discussed my intentions with Miss Julia.”
A sudden heat rose from her chest to her face, and it had nothing to do with the soft burr of his voice, the one Julia practically melted over every time she talked about him. “I hold the marquess in high regard also. He’s taken his responsibilities to our family seriously. We’re fortunate he possesses such a keen interest in our welfare.”
The earl threw back his head laughing. The deep baritone rang through the ballroom. Several people turned in the midst of their dance and smiled at the happy sound.
“Miss Lawson, there are responsibilities and there are the heart’s desires. I’m astute enough not to confuse the two. I believe you are too.”
Suddenly, she felt as if the floor had turned into an icy river that was better suited for skating than dancing. One slip, and her heart would be laid out for all to see. This conversation had taken a turn into an unknown area, one she didn’t have the faintest clue how to answer.
As the dance came to a slow end, the earl gracefully released her and bent over her hand. “Thank you, Miss Lawson. I enjoyed our dance, and I look forward to our visit.”
“As do I, my lord.” March pushed her anxiety aside. This was a night to celebrate, and she didn’t want any of her self-doubts to color her happiness for her sisters’ successes.
The earl escorted her back to her sisters where he took Julia’s hand for the following set. Faith had promised to dance with Lord Haledrone. Dr. Kennett had worked miracles with Faith and her leg. No one would be surprised if he made an offer for her beautiful sister.
Soon, March stood alone, but she didn’t feel lonely. Instead, she gazed about the dance floor with the knowledge that tonight signaled the next phase of the Lawson sisters’ lives, one that promised a bright future. A sudden serenity, almost a lightness lifted her spirits higher, one she recognized as pure unadulterated happiness.
Michael was the cause. He’d made their dreams come true. Her mood suddenly buoyant, she had to find him and thank him. When she turned, everything within her stilled. Lady Miranda stood before her.
“Miss Lawson, may I have a word?” Her honeyed voice carried softly without the malice she’d possessed at the dressmaker’s shop.
“Of course.” It would do no good to refuse the woman, yet that didn’t keep March’s wariness from sounding the alert. This woman didn’t think very highly of her or her sisters as was evidenced by her comments at Mademoiselle Mignon’s shop. Whatever she wanted to say, March wouldn’t let it ruin her wonderful evening.
Lady Miranda dipped her head with a hint of shyness. “I wanted to apologize for what I said that day at Mademoiselle—”
“Please, my lady, there’s no need. Let’s not mention it.” The night certainly was turning into one filled with surprises.
“That’s very gracious,” the young woman offered. “Perhaps I might call on you this week.”
“It would be my pleasure.” March’s gaze swept through the ballroom. She found Michael still conversing with his father and Lady Miranda’s father. Whether Lady Miranda truly wanted to start anew or it was an effort to bring her into the marquess’s good graces made little difference. The young woman would be a part of Julia’s social acquaintances, and March didn’t want for any ill will between Lady Miranda and her to jeopardize Julia’s new life.
As she chatted with Lady Miranda, a commotion arose in the front of the ballroom. There were so many people crowding the front that March didn’t pay much attention. The clucking and squawking of discontented voices grew louder until it sounded like a pandemonium of parrots had taken over the ballroom. She chanced another glance. Her cousin Rupert was storming across the ballroom with two men on either side of him. One was the host of the evening, the Earl of Carlisle, and the other was his heir, Lord Radley.