The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 4.4

   Maribella stifled a wistful sigh and smiled brightly at the earnest young man who was guiding her around the floor in yet another interminable waltz. It had taken only a few days of the Season proper for her to sort through her prospective suitors. And come to the unhappy conclusion that none matched her requirements. The lads were too young, the men too old. There seemed to be no one in between. Presumably many were away with Wellington's forces, but surely there were those who could not leave the important business of keeping England running? And surely not all of them were old? She could not describe her ideal Amman, yet was sure she would instantly know when she met him. She was convinced she would feel it, like a thunderbolt from the blue. Yet no make of her acquaintance increase her heartbeat one iota.

   Keeping a steady and inconsequential conversation with her partner, something she could do half asleep, Maribella sighted her eldest sister, elegantly waltzing with their guardian. Now there was a coil. There was little doubt in Maribella's mind of the cause of Margaret's bright eyes and slightly flushed countenance. She looked radiant. But could a guardian marry his ward? Or, more to he point, was their guardian intent in marriage or had he some other arrangement in mind? Still, she had complete faith in Margaret. There had been many who had worshiped at her feeta with something other than matrimony in view, yet her eldest sister had always had their measure. True, none had affected her as Felix Cambridge clearly did. But Margaret knew the ropes, few better.

   "I'll escort you back to Lady Hillsborough."

   The light voice of her partner drew her thoughts back to the present. With a quick smile, Maribella declined. "I think I've torn my flinch. I'll just go and pin it up. Perhaps you could inform Lady Hillsborough that I'll return immediately?" She smiled dazzlingly upon the young man. Bemused, he bowed and moved away into the crowd. Her flounce was perfectly intact but she needed some fresh air and in no circumstances could she have borne another half-hour if that particular young gentleman's serious discourse.

   She started toward the door, then glanced back to see Amelia receive her message without apparent perturbations. Maribella turned back to the door and immediately collided with a chest of quite amazing proportions.

   "Oh!"

   For a moment, she thought the impact had winded her. Then, looking up into the face of the mountain she had met, she realized it wasn't that at all. It was the thunderbolt she had been waiting for.

   Unfortunately, the gentleman seemed unaware of this momentous happening. "My apologies, m'dear. Didn't see you there."

   The lazy drawl washed over Maribella. He was tall, very tall, and seemed almost as broad, with curling blond hair and laughing hazel eyes. He had quite the most devastating smile she had ever seen. Her knees felt far too weak to support her if she moved, so she stood still and stared, mouthing she knew not what platitudes.

   The gentleman seemed to find her reaction amusing. But, with a polite nod and another melting smile, he was gone.

   Stunned, Maribella found herself standing in the doorway staring at his retreating back. Sanity returned with a thump. Biting back a far from ladylike curse, she swept out in search of the withdrawing-room. The used of a borrowed fan and the consumption of a glass of cool water helped to restore her outward calm. Inside, her resentment grew.

   No gentleman simply excused himself and walked away from her. That was her role. Men usually tried to stay by her side as long as possible. Yet this man had seemed disinclined to linger. Maribella was not vain but wondered what was more fascinating than herself that he needs must move on so abruptly. Surely he had felt that strange jolt just as she had? Maybe he wasn't a ladies' man? But no. The memory of the decided appreciation which had flowed so warmly in his hazel eyes put paid to that idea. And, now she came to think of it, the comprehensive glance which had roamed suggestively over most of her had been decidedly impertinent.

   Maribella returned to the ballroom determined to bring her large gentleman to heel, if for no better reason than to assure herself she had been mistaken in him. But frustration awaited her. He was not there. For the rest of the evening, she searched the throng but caught no glimpse of her quarry. Then, just before the last dance, another waltz, he appeared in the doorway from the card-room.

   Surrounded by her usual court, Maribella was at her effervescent best. Her smile was dazzling as she openly debated, laughingly teasing, over who to bestow her hand on for this dance. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched the unknown gentleman approach. And walk past her to solicit the hand of a plain girl in an outrageously overdecorated pink gown.

   Maribella bit her lip in vexation but managed to conceal it as severe concentration on her decision. As the musicians struck up, she accepted handsome Lord Bullock as her partner and studiously paid him the most flattering attention for the rest of the evening.