An Engagement of Sorts by Alene Wecker

Author:Alene Wecker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hunting;riding;tomboy;regency;romance;proper romance;wholesome romance;sweet romance;clean romance;engagement;marriage;independence;London Season;masquerade
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2021-07-27T20:10:15+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

A Feather’s Kiss

Mr. Ascough found me alone on the balcony. “Must I remind you that Mr. Paling is not the type of man whom you should allow to lead you off into private places?”

“Thank you for your kind attention, but I can assure you, it is not my intention to allow any man to drag me away.” A sudden pain in my chest threatened to discompose me as I remembered Smith dragging me into his room. I massaged my sternum with the heel of my hand in an attempt to alleviate the pressure.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

I nodded and dropped my hand. “A little. It is why Mr. Paling took compassion on me and led me here for a breath of air.” I felt a fierce need to protect him. “Of course, as soon as we discovered we were alone, he removed himself.” Too soon or too late, I still wasn’t sure which.

“Should you like to leave early?”

“I can wait until your sisters have finished their amusements.” And until after the waltz. A chill wind blew, giving me the shivers.

“Let’s go inside before you catch cold.” Mr. Ascough escorted me back to his sisters and brought me some refreshment before excusing himself to play cards with Mr. Smith and Mr. Skinner.

Miss Ascough coughed discreetly into her hand, drawing my attention so she could keep her voice low. “Mr. Paling seems very attentive.”

“Yes, to everyone,” I responded, noticing that he again held court like some Adonis with a gaggle of worshipers at his side.

“But he offered you marked attention.”

“I should hardly think it possible for anyone to mark such a thing, since he flirts equally with everyone of his acquaintance.”

The giggles of the girls in his company punctuated my point. But he did not seem to enjoy the fruits of his labors. He reclined against a wall with a broody expression, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed in thought.

Miss Grace remained unconvinced. “He has not asked anyone else to dance.”

“And I daresay he shall not,” Miss Ascough added authoritatively. “He is not known for dancing. He does not even accept vouchers at Almack’s anymore, so they say.” She snapped her fan shut and pointed it at me. “What did he say to you? Why is he brooding?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps it is because I called his waistcoat horrid.”

They gasped at my insolence, but I did not offer a response as the waltz was called. Mr. Paling walked into our circle and claimed my hand, leading me next to his younger sister, Mary, to whom I still had not been introduced. She had been dancing all evening.

“Watch this. It’s my favorite part,” he whispered.

“What is?”

“Let’s see how many people Lady Willow turns away.”

He indicated a lady whom I thought I had seen dancing near the top of every dance. A man came to ask for her hand, but she declined. By the time enough couples had joined us in a circle and we began to promenade, she had rejected no less than four gentlemen.

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