“Well, here we are once again,” Beth mused. “The Wilting Wallflowers, reunited.”
She had fetched champagne for the duchess and Uncle Alistair and found them comfortable chairs where they could converse with their friends. Now, she and her sisters stood adjacent to the refreshment table, watching a sea of couples surge and swirl in time to the music on the crowded dance floor.
“It reminds me of old times,” Meg said wistfully—almost as though she’d forgotten how humiliating it was to be mocked, overlooked, and dismissed. But then, being married to a handsome earl could change one’s perspective. Beth’s circumstances hadn’t changed nearly as much, and yet, there had been a shift in her thinking of late.
All because of Alex.
During the past few days, she’d gone toe to toe with him on several occasions. They’d argued, bargained, and kissed … and somehow, she’d emerged relatively unscathed. If she could survive sparring with a duke—and not just any duke, but the notorious Duke of Blackshire—she could face anyone in this ballroom with confidence.
Which was not to say that she had a slew of dance partners or admirers. But Meg’s handsome husband, Will, had gallantly asked her for a dance, as had Lord Darberville. True, both of them likely asked her out of a sense of obligation, but at least she wasn’t standing about the potted palms all evening. She wondered whether her night would have been different had Alex been there. Would he have asked her to dance in front of London’s elite? Or was she simply an amusing diversion—someone to entertain him on the rare evening he spent at home?
As though she’d read Beth’s mind, Meg asked, “Why didn’t the duke accompany the dowager and you tonight?”
Julie wagged her eyebrows suggestively. “Perhaps he is with his paramour.”
Meg narrowed her eyes. “What do you know of paramours?”
“Not nearly enough.” Julie sighed.
“He’s not with a lover,” Beth said curtly. And maybe a bit too loudly. At Meg’s questioning expression, she lowered her voice, adding, “I only meant that the reason for his absence is not nearly as scandalous as our younger sister would like to believe. He injured his leg while sparring today.”
“Maybe he and his opponent were fighting over a woman?” Julie asked hopefully.
“Or maybe they were merely engaged in a friendly boxing match,” Beth corrected.
“Friendly boxing match sounds like an oxymoron to me,” Meg said. “I shall never understand men.”
“The duke seemed pleasant enough at Vauxhall,” Julie said. “But I’ve since lowered my opinion of him. I cannot condone his decision to move his grandmother to the country.”
“Shh!” Beth glanced around. “The dowager doesn’t know yet, and when the time comes to inform her, I’ll need to do so gently.” Goodness, if her sisters guessed that the duke had kissed her, they’d hold him in even lower esteem. Actually, they’d call for the guillotine.
“He said that the move was for her own sake,” Beth said in his defense. Because while she didn’t pretend to understand his logic, she wanted to believe him.
“Hmm,” Meg said, skeptical. Beth couldn’t blame her.
“Don’t look now, but Lord Darberville is heading toward us.” Julie jabbed Beth with a pointy elbow. “He must want to ask you to dance again.”
Beth rubbed her arm. “Maybe he intends to ask you.”
“Good evening, Lady Castleton, Miss Lacey, and Miss Juliette.” Lord Darberville bowed politely and stepped aside to make room for his companion. “Please permit me to introduce Mr. Richard Coulsen. He’s the steward of Lord Claville’s Kent estate, and we met at the marquess’s house party last year, where he almost beat me at fencing.”
“I did beat him.” Mr. Coulsen winked as he bowed over Meg’s hand, then Beth’s and Julie’s.
“Wonderful,” Meg murmured under her breath. “Another devotee of blood sports.”
Ignoring her sister, Beth smiled at the gentleman. “It’s a pleasure.” In a room brimming with titled lords and ladies, it was nice to meet someone who was on approximately the same rung of the social ladder as she. Not that anyone would guess Mr. Coulsen was of lower social status than most. Tall and fair-haired, he moved and spoke with the confidence of a man who was accustomed to being in charge.
“I have a confession.” He lowered his voice and leaned in, as though he really were about to share something intimate. “I asked Lord Darberville for an introduction so that I might properly ask you to dance. Would you do me the honor, Miss Lacey?”
Beth glanced at her younger sister, standing on her right. Surely, Mr. Coulsen wanted to dance with Julie … and yet, he seemed to be looking directly at Beth.
Julie’s elbow jabbed her again. “He’s asking you.”
Beth blinked, attempting to hide her surprise. She supposed there was no harm in dancing with Mr. Coulsen, even if she’d only just met him. Besides, Meg and Julie would be watching the dance floor like hawks. “Certainly,” she said.
Before she knew it, he was leading her away from her familiar, out-of-the-way spot by the refreshment table and twirling her into the center of the action.
“Forgive me if I’m not as polished as your usual dance partners,” he said. “I don’t attend many balls—at least not ones like this.” He gestured at the massive crystal chandelier sparkling overhead.
“From the way you dance, I would have guessed that you’d been born in a ballroom,” Beth teased.
“Hardly.” He flashed a self-deprecating smile and maneuvered her expertly around another swirling couple. “Not that I’m complaining. It was most generous of my employer, Lord Claville, to invite me this evening.”
“I’m acting as companion to the Dowager Duchess of Blackshire,” Beth said.
He raised a dark blond brow. “I knew we’d have something in common.”
“Why did you ask me to dance?” Her question bordered on impolite, but she was too curious not to ask.
Shrugging, he said, “You were standing with your sisters—I knew they had to be your sisters—and you were in the middle.”
“You asked me to dance because I was standing between my sisters?”
“The middle is sometimes a difficult place to be.”
She looked at his face to see if he was jesting, but he seemed most sincere. “Spoken like a middle child,” she guessed.
“I have no siblings,” he said. “But I do know what it’s like to be caught between two worlds.”
Beth’s heart squeezed in her chest—it was the pang she routinely experienced when she learned of an injustice or slight. And it made her want to right matters, even though she barely knew Mr. Coulsen.
“It seems we have another thing in common,” she said.
They danced the rest of the set in companionable silence, but Beth did feel a connection to the gentleman. Nothing like the headiness she felt with Alex, but rather, a sense of ease.
Her dance partner smiled as they circled one another, and Beth realized she must take care not to mislead him.
At the conclusion of the dance, Mr. Coulsen escorted Beth back to her sisters, conversing along the way. “Thank you for indulging me,” he said, “even though I’m certain your feet must be sore from dancing all evening.”
“Oh, I haven’t danced much,” Beth said. “In fact, my sisters and I are known as the Wilting Wallflowers.”
Blast. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to admit that. He was, perhaps, the sole person in all of London who hadn’t been aware of her humiliating reputation, and she managed to work it into the conversation only minutes after they’d been introduced. Perfect.
He frowned, confused. “The Wilting Wallflowers?”
“My uncle, our guardian, is Lord Wiltmore. I suppose the name was a natural extension.”
Scratching his head, Mr. Coulsen opened his mouth as though he’d say something … and then he laughed.
Beth’s shields went up. She’d thought he’d be a friend—someone who understood her. She should have known better than to trust someone she’d just met.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I’m not laughing at you. The name is beyond ridiculous—it’s absurd. No one who’s ever seen you or your sisters could refer to you as wallflowers. Not while keeping a straight face.”
Beth relaxed slightly. “Only a year ago, we were poor as church mice and wearing gowns several seasons out of fashion. We may have new clothes, but the name has stuck with us—not unlike the stench from a skunk.”
Mr. Coulsen stopped walking and turned to face her. “I don’t care what you were wearing or how poor you were—you’re no wallflower.”
With that, he bowed and left her.