The Marquess Move Read online

  After several moments had passed, and she’d reopened her eyes, Mr. Whitland spoke. “So, what happened out there with Lord Julington?”

  Her smile disappeared, and Maddie fought her shudder. But she had to be careful in her response. “He asked me to dance, and I refused.”

  “Wasn’t quite handsome enough for you?” Mr. Whitland prodded with a smile.

  She shook her head. “He was far too insistent, actually. I regret you had to involve yourself in that unfortunate encounter. Thank you for your assistance, by the by.”

  “Don’t worry. After I explained what had happened, Lord Hazelton insisted he leave. You won’t have to worry about Julington again tonight.”

  A hint of relief washed over her at that news, but it was quickly followed by more apprehension. She bit her lip, eyeing Mr. Whitland warily. “What exactly did you tell Lord Hazelton?” she asked, forcing herself not to wince.

  They continued to dance as Mr. Whitland replied, “Only that Lord Julington had been so rude to a female guest, so insistent upon a dance, that the young lady had run off.”

  “Did Lord Hazelton…?” She cleared her throat and hoped her squeak didn’t return. “Ask my name?”

  “No,” Mr. Whitland replied with a grin, “which was fortunate since I didn’t have a name to give him.”

  Nodding, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled widely at him. “Of course not.”

  The music stopped and Mr. Whitland brought their dance to an end, but his fingers lingered on her waist. She didn’t remove her hand from his shoulder either. She tipped back her head to look up at him. He gazed down at her intently and slowly—oh, so slowly—lowered his head. He was going to kiss her. She knew it. And she wanted him to. After all, sharing a kiss with a handsome gentleman at a ball was her second dream. One she had barely even acknowledged to herself. It had been too much to hope for when she’d planned tonight, but now, now, the most handsome gentleman she’d seen at the ball had not only danced with her…he was poised to kiss her too. She leaned up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

  Voices sounded in the corridor, breaking the spell, and Maddie quickly scrambled away from him. The voices were so close they sounded as if their owners might enter the room. She twirled desperately in a circle, searching for the best hiding place. The potted palm wasn’t big enough. Instead, she scurried behind the velvet blue drapes. She hovered there, trying to hold her breath, when the voices passed the drawing room.

  Thank heavens. Sucking air into her lungs, she pressed a hand to her chest and said another brief prayer. That had been far too close. She’d taken too much of a risk. A dance was one thing, but a kiss was a step too far. What if those people had opened the door and found her in a compromising position with a man she didn’t even know? She shuddered to think about what might have happened. She’d been a complete fool to play this game. She had to go. Her playacting was over. For good.

  Mr. Whitland’s footsteps drew near. He pulled back the drapes. His eyes narrowed on her, and he was grinning at her as if she’d amused him. “It’s all right. You can come out.”

  She gave him a tentative smile, suddenly quite aware of how foolish she must look hiding behind curtains. No use explaining. He probably assumed she was worried about her reputation and that was mostly true. She nodded as she stepped out into the room and then tiptoed to the door and peeked out. The corridor was empty. “I must go,” she breathed.

  She turned to look at him one last time. He had an inscrutable expression on his face. Dare she hope there was a bit of disappointment in it?

  “Please, tell me your name,” he requested, in such a hopeful voice her heart flipped.

  If she were clever, she would make up a name. But something inside her prodded her to tell him the truth. It would be completely improper for him to call her by her Christian name, and yet she found herself saying breathlessly, “Madeline. My name is Madeline.”

  And with that, she flew from the room. She’d had her dance. It was time to return to her real life.

  Chapter Six

  London, Twelfth Night, 1815, The Earl of Hazelton’s Town House

  This year, instead of arriving solo, Justin arrived at Hazelton’s Twelfth Night Ball with his entire family in tow. Well, all of them save Veronica. She was coming with her husband finally. Over the Christmastide holiday, Veronica and Edgefield had managed to put their disagreement to rights—with a bit of help from the rest of the Whitmoreland family. Mama, Grandpapa, Grandmama, and the twins, Jessica and Elizabeth, had all insisted on coming to the Twelfth Night Ball to see the couple happily reunited. Even though the twins weren’t officially out yet, they’d come too. Grandpapa’s title as a duke would shield them from any gossip.

  Justin had merely come to support his family. He was doing his duty. Or so he told himself for the hundredth time as he escorted his mother into the ballroom on his arm. It had been a year. One year since he’d been in this same house and shared a dance with a young lady he hadn’t been able to put from his mind since.

  It made no sense. He never spared so much as a second thought for any young lady, and he certainly didn’t think of any of them often. Yet, Madeline—the only name he had to go by—had come up in his thoughts a disturbing number of times over the last twelve months. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he’d spent the entire last Season searching every crowd for her. Only to be repeatedly disappointed. He’d even considered asking about her. But where would he begin and who would he ask? He didn’t have her surname. Not to mention that his asking after a debutante would do nothing but spark gossip.

  The closest he’d come to mentioning her to anyone was a discussion earlier this afternoon with Edgefield. Justin had advised his friend that he would be looking for someone—a young lady—at the ball tonight. Justin hoped he didn’t live to regret it now that Edgefield and Veronica were back together. If Edgefield mentioned to Veronica—or worse, Mama or Jessica—that he was in search of a certain young lady, he’d never have a moment’s peace.

  But it was too late now, he reckoned as he scanned the ballroom. It was ludicrous to hope he’d find her, of course. Not only did he have no earthly idea who she was, there was certainly no guarantee that she’d be attending the ball again this year. But Hazelton’s Twelfth Night Ball was the one place he’d seen her before, and he couldn’t help that a small part of him held out hope he’d find her here again.

  He installed his family along the sidelines of the dancing and stood impatiently, surveying the crowd. He was looking for a sapphire dress, which was foolish. What were the odds she’d be wearing sapphire again?

  “It’s not a question of if, Eliza, it’s a necessity,” Mama was saying to his sister, Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth, who had always scorned social affairs and fripperies in favor of reading books and scribbling in her journal, rolled her eyes. “But I don’t need a lady’s maid, Mama. It’s entirely unnecessary.”

  “Nonsense,” Mama replied. “When the Season begins, who’ll help you with your clothing, jewelry, and hair?”

  “Jessa’s maid can button my gowns. I don’t need jewelry, and I cannot stand to have my hair up.”

  Mama pressed a hand to her throat. “You cannot be serious, child. You cannot go to social affairs with your hair down. It’s indecent.”

  “Decency is overrated,” Eliza replied.

  Justin had to turn his laugh into a cough and look away from his mother’s narrow-eyed glare. Mama and Eliza had been having this argument for several weeks now and it didn’t look as if either intended to change her stance. Eliza was firmly set on not employing a lady’s maid, and Mama was equally intent upon ensuring she had one.

  On any other evening, Justin might have been amused by his family’s squabble, but tonight he had no intention of listening to the ongoing debate. He preferred to stroll around the ballroom to see if he recognized…anyone. Perhaps take a slight detour into a certain drawing room?

  “I’ll be back shortly,” he informed the group, though he doubted any of them heard him as they were all in a merry argument about the merits and necessity of lady’s maids. Jessica, who was greatly looking forward to her Season, was quite vocal on the subject and firmly on Mama’s side.

  His family’s spirited discussion was the perfect cover under which Justin could slip away unnoticed. He wasted no time taking a turn around the room, one intended to look quite casual but was anything but. He found himself holding his breath time and again as he came upon a blond woman, but each time she turned around, he was disappointed. He’d gone the length of the room and back before he decided that however ludicrous the notion and however low the odds of her being there, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least visit the drawing room where they’d had their dance last year.

  On his way, he was forced to dodge many debutantes looking hopeful that he’d ask them to dance. Why exactly had he thought it a good idea to attend this ball again? He usually avoided it like the plague, and this year he didn’t even have the excuse that he was attending to help Edgefield spread the word about another one of Veronica’s fake illnesses.

  As for Veronica, when Justin passed the dance floor, his attention was drawn to the center where Edgefield and Veronica were gazing at each other lovingly, swaying together to the tune of a waltz. He smiled to himself. At least those two were back together again, as they should be. He’d never encountered a more maddeningly stubborn pair. Or a more well suited one.

  Justin slipped from the ballroom into the corridor and down the hallway to the drawing room. He cursed himself a fool with each step. Of course, Madeline wouldn’t be in the room. Of course, it would be empty. It was absurd to look.

  Justin didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath again until he opened the door of the drawing room to find…dark emptiness. Letting out his pent-up breath, he stepped inside, allowing the door to remain ajar. Should he check behind the curtains? No, that was ridiculous. Sticking his hands in his coat pockets, he kicked at the rug. It had been foolish to think she would be here. But still…the disappointment in his chest lingered.

  Instead of leaving, he stepped farther into the room and rubbed the tip of his boot against the spot on the floor near the settee where he’d held her in his arms. He smiled to himself as he remembered the feel of her there as they danced. What was it about her that had so captivated him after only a few minutes’ interaction? It was a good question and one that had plagued him all these months. She’d been… unexpected. Her demeanor, her words, her actions. Everything about her had been the exact opposite of what he encountered with most debutantes. She’d been unapologetic too. That was something he admired about anyone. She’d been lively where other debutantes always seemed to be attempting to win an award for being quiet and demure. Both of which drove him mad. His sisters weren’t quiet and demure. He preferred ladies who spoke their mind and enjoyed themselves. Precisely as Madeline had seemed to.

  Madeline had also been…mysterious, and he realized with some irony that part of his attraction to her was that she’d seemed completely unaffected by him. Normally, when a debutante encountered him at a ball, she endeavored to act charming or beguiling to cajole him into asking her to dance. Madeline, however, had rushed from the room the moment he'd indicated he didn’t enjoy dancing. She’d been more interested in the dancing itself. And that—for some completely unknown reason—intrigued him. He hated that it was true, but there it was.

  He blew out a breath and tipped back his head. Facing the ceiling, he closed his eyes for a moment, imagining the strains of the same waltz that had been playing during their dance last year and pretending he could feel her delicate gloved hand in his. She’d smelled like lilacs. He’d had his house filled with them all last spring.

  Loud female voices sounded in the hallway, breaking the spell, just before his three sisters rushed into the room.

  “There you are, Justin,” Veronica exclaimed, glancing around the darkened room. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Trying to have a moment of peace,” he replied with a tight smile.

  “In an empty drawing room?” Jessa asked, frowning.

  “That’s what makes it peaceful, Jessa, the emptiness,” Eliza offered helpfully.

  Justin crossed his arms over his chest and eyed his three sisters. He’d learned long ago that the best way to get them to stop asking questions was to ask questions of his own. “What are all of you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, of course,” Eliza replied with a shrug. Eliza was the most reasonable of his sisters. He doubted she’d come of her own accord. No doubt the forceful Veronica and her equally dogged associate Jessa had insisted Eliza accompany them. Eliza and Jessa may have been identical in likeness, but their personalities were far different. Jessa acted much more like Veronica, who loved fashion and Society and poking her nose into her brother’s private affairs whenever possible.

  “Edgefield told us you’re hunting for a certain lady,” Jessica blurted.

  “Did he?” Justin arched a brow, inwardly sighed, and made a mental note to thank Edgefield later.

  Veronica gave Jessica a condemning glare. “You’re not supposed to tell him that.”

  “What do you mean?” Jessica replied, her brow furrowed. “You don’t think he already knows he’s looking for a lady?”

  Veronica put the back of her hand to her forehead. “No. I meant you’re not supposed to let him know we know he’s looking for a lady. Now he’ll refuse to tell us anything.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint,” Justin said, already moving back toward the door. “But there is obviously no lady here.”

  “I told you both this was a waste of time,” Eliza drawled.

  Good, sensible Eliza. She had been dragged along by the other two.

  Justin had nearly made it to the still-open door when he glimpsed a light pink ballgown and the profile of none other than…Madeline standing in the corridor.

  There she was, hovering outside the door. No figment of his imagination. Only, the moment he saw her, she was just as quickly gone. She scurried off in the opposite direction toward the back of the house.

  Justin quickly turned to his sisters. “I have just recalled that I promised Hazelton I’d meet him in his study for a drink with some other chaps.” And with that hasty excuse, he strode from the room.

  Out in the corridor, he barely saw the last bit of pink satin round a corner toward the right. He nearly ran after her, intent on not letting her go this time without getting a surname. When he turned the corner, he was in the back of the house. He glanced around. The door to the servants’ staircase was just closing. He frowned. Where was she going?

  Without thinking, he followed her. He pushed open the door and glanced up to see pink satin wending its way up the staircase above him. With no more thought than before, he began climbing the stairs.

  “Stop!” he called. “I must speak with you.”

  A small feminine gasp echoed from above, but her footsteps did indeed stop. He jogged up the last several steps to her.

  She stood there looking lovely in a soft pink gown with tiny white rosebuds embroidered along the bodice. She was wearing long white gloves, a small white fur stole around her shoulders, and sparkling diamonds on her ears. She was as ethereal as he remembered. More so, perhaps, with her fine bones and bright blue eyes. She was blinking at him with a mixture of surprise and—dare he hope—delight on her face.

  “Madeline,” he breathed, coming to a stop in front of her, his breath only slightly elevated because of his climb. “I’ve…you came to the drawing room?” It was an obvious and idiotic thing to say, but he was just so pleased with the fact that she had come. She’d been there. Right where he’d met her last year. His noisy sisters must have frightened her off.

  Madeline swallowed and nodded. But she still said nothing. She glanced around as if worried they’d be discovered. He still did not know why she’d climbed up the servants’ staircase. But now that he was standing here staring at her, he realized how, well, rude it all must seem to her.

  “I must apologize,” he began. “I hope I didn’t…frighten you. I hope you’re not unhappy that I wanted to speak with you.”

  Her bright blue eyes blinked, and she shook her head. “No…only…” She bit her lip in the charming way he well remembered from last year.

  “Only what?” he prompted. She glanced about so frequently he was getting nervous too. Did she expect someone? He felt like an utter fool. He had no reason to follow her and no coherent thing to say to her now that he’d chased her and stopped her.

  “Only, I’m…I must go,” she said, her eyes still darting back and forth.

  “Very well,” he replied, feeling like an ass. He had no excuse for accosting this poor young woman. “But…I wanted to tell you something.”

  “What?” Her eyes went wide, and she looked at him hopefully, seeming on tenterhooks waiting for his pronouncement.

  “I…” He licked his dry lips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you…all year.”

  A shy smile spread across her pretty face and her dimples made his knees weak. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you either,” she admitted in a whisper before whipping around to leave.

  He frowned again. She’d thought of him too? Then why was she in such a hurry to leave? “Wait.” He searched his mind for something to say. Something to keep her in his presence for one moment more. “May I…may I ask your surname?”

  She turned back to face him, and her mouth formed a wide O. “Oh, no,” she exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. “No.”

  Justin frowned. “No?”

  He was debating whether he should ask her why, while telling himself he should simply take no for an answer and leave, when she grabbed him by the lapels of his black evening coat, pushed herself up on tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth.