You can do this.
Douglas kept repeating the words to himself as the hansom cab approached the mansion where the ball was being held. It had been easier when he’d first gotten into the cab and pulled away from his boardinghouse on the other side of London. Now, as they joined the slow line of carriages on the drive, Douglas found his confidence waning.
Each vehicle paused at the main entrance while men in fine suits and silk hats alighted and then handed down bejeweled ladies in sumptuous gowns. Douglas watched them closely, aware they’d been born and raised to this well-heeled life. How to act and what to say at such events came as naturally to them as breathing. The dinner party at Mr. Rolland’s home was nothing compared to this. Douglas knew he wasn’t going to be accepted into this world simply because one of its daughters enjoyed flirting with him. There would be so many things to remember tonight and pitfalls to avoid. He had no qualms about facing any of them—except for the dancing.
He had been practicing every day, pairing the steps with the telegraphy trick he’d learned from Alice. He had not said anything about it to her, though. In fact, they had both spent the past week carefully avoiding mention of anything outside of work. Douglas had to admit it was probably for the best. Things at the office seemed to have returned more or less to normal. Clapper was still Clapper, but he had confined himself to his usual grumblings and not stepped over the line Douglas had drawn.
Alice was still Alice, too. He loved her energy and diligence more every day. He was sorry only that she was obviously keeping a careful distance from him. He wished he could have talked to her in preparation for this evening. He wished even more heartily that he could have danced with her again. But that was the line over which he could not go.
So he had done his best to prepare on his own. Now that he thought of everything else he’d have to do correctly in addition to the dancing, he wished he’d stuck with his original plan of limping in with an unfortunate “injury.” But he had promised Miss Rolland a dance tonight, and he would do it. His sense of honor kept him from ordering the cab driver to turn around.
Honor.
Douglas gave a little grunt. He was honor bound to all sorts of things now. Alice had effectively asked him if he was the kind of man who would marry solely for money. He had insisted he wasn’t, and she’d believed him. The truth was, until that point he hadn’t thought about it all that deeply. He had figured he’d marry Miss Rolland if he found nothing objectionable in her and if she would have him. The idea of love hadn’t entered his mind. When cornered by Alice’s question, he couldn’t even say the word. Affection was the best he could come up with. Now he found himself hoping he could garner a real affection for Miss Rolland just so he would not have lied to the woman he truly did care for. This ridiculous paradox was so unsettling that Douglas knew he must put it out of his mind if he was going to make a good showing tonight.
The cab came to a stop. Douglas got out, paid the driver, and entered the fray.
Once he was inside the ballroom, it took a few minutes to locate Henley. Douglas finally spotted him standing with his wife and another couple in a small grove formed by six potted trees. Mrs. Henley was chatting with the other lady as they surveyed the crowded ballroom. They were probably gossiping about the other attendees. Or perhaps critiquing the ladies’ dresses. Meanwhile, their husbands pretended not to look bored.
Henley brightened when he saw Douglas. “Did you just arrive? You’ll have to hurry if you want a chance at Miss Rolland’s dance card. There’s a rumor it fills up quickly.”
“A rumor put forth by the lady herself, I’ll wager,” joked the other man.
Henley introduced him as Mr. Warner. Douglas recognized the name. Warner owned several successful factories located just to the east of London.
“I’ve heard from Henley that you’re a valuable asset to your company,” Warner said, shaking Douglas’s hand. “I’d give my eyeteeth to find someone who can combine ambition with a genuine talent for business. Most men I’ve worked with have too much of the first quality and surprisingly little of the other.”
“I’m glad to hear Mr. Henley speaks highly of me,” Douglas answered. “I won’t deny that I work hard to earn his good opinion.”
Warner gave him a pleased smile. “I admire a man who manages to sound self-effacing while still acknowledging his high worth.”
“Don’t get any ideas about stealing him from me,” Henley said to Warner.
Warner held up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” But the glint in his eye said he wouldn’t mind trying.
It was mere jesting, but Mrs. Henley gave Douglas a look as if he’d just said he planned to abandon the company tomorrow. “You’d better go track down your prospect,” she reminded him. “You don’t want to miss your chance with Miss Rolland.”
Mrs. Henley didn’t seem to realize that she and Douglas were on the same side—they both wanted success for her husband’s business. Why did she persist in treating him like the enemy? It was as though she feared he would fail the company in some way. It was true that, with money and society bound as closely as they were, there was a lot riding on Douglas’s successful courting of Miss Rolland. Had Clapper been talking with Mrs. Henley, poisoning her mind with ugly gossip about Alice? If he ever had proof of that, Douglas didn’t think he’d be able to restrain himself from doing Clapper bodily harm.
Tonight, however, he could do little besides act as though he and Mrs. Henley were on the best of terms. “Right you are, madam. Do you by chance know how I might locate Miss Rolland among all these people?”
“I believe she’s holding court near the mirrors along that far wall,” Mr. Warner put in.
Douglas excused himself and headed in the direction Warner had indicated. As he threaded his way through the crowd, he could feel the gazes of Mrs. Henley and Mrs. Warner on him, tracking his progress. Perhaps they were discussing his chances of success with Miss Rolland. It was a nice irony, albeit one Mrs. Henley would never be aware of, that his odds were better tonight because of the help he’d gotten from Alice.
Douglas reminded himself yet again that he must set aside all thoughts of Alice. He was here to court another young lady. This plan had been in place long before he’d met Alice. He must remain committed to it.
It was marginally easier to pull his thoughts into line when he finally laid eyes on Miss Rolland. She looked quite fetching. As usual, she’d made the most of her assets, from a flattering hairstyle to a gown that was just the right shade for her complexion.
You see, this is not so difficult. She is attractive, and she is attracted to you. Her father is Henley’s friend and an important business associate. Everybody wins. He repeated this to himself several times as he approached her.
She was talking with three other young ladies, coyly pretending not to notice his approach until he stood right next to her. He gave her a bow. “Good evening, Miss Rolland. I hope I may intrude upon your notice for a moment?”
She turned toward him, eyes wide in a show of surprise. “Mr. Shaw, how lovely to see you again!”
“How are you getting on with your butterfly collecting?”
She opened her fan with a playful snap and viewed him over the top of it. “I have no new specimens to speak of. But I hope to collect one very soon.”
“I have every confidence in your success,” he said with a wink.
The other ladies tittered with delight. Miss Rolland introduced him to Miss Travers, Miss Lawson, and Miss Brenner. Given the way Miss Rolland presented him with a certain flourish and a nod to her friends, he could almost hear an undertone of “This is the man I was telling you about!” They looked him over with warm appreciation.
“But you mustn’t ask them to dance,” Miss Rolland told him, punctuating this order by poking him lightly with her fan. “Their cards are already full.”
The way Miss Brenner’s eyebrow lifted signaled that perhaps Miss Rolland wasn’t being exactly truthful about that.
“Please tell me you’ve reserved at least one dance for me,” Douglas said, mustering all the fervor he could at the idea of dancing.
Miss Rolland studied her card as though she didn’t already know precisely what was on it. “Why yes, it seems there is still one opening. It’s for a waltz.”
Douglas breathed an inward sigh of relief. If it had been any of the other dances, such as the quadrille with its intricate patterns, his ship would have sunk before it even left port. “Perfect.”
He watched as she wrote his name in the spot she had indicated. From his viewpoint, the writing was upside down, yet he easily discerned that several of the other slots were filled by Busfield. Interestingly, it made him think of Archie Clapper’s remark about a woman playing two men against each other as rivals. Miss Rolland was the kind of woman who would do that. Not Alice.
“You arrived just in time, Mr. Shaw,” Miss Rolland informed him. “The dancing is about to begin. It opens with a grand march. Who will be your partner for that—if I may be so bold as to ask?” She looked at him with wide eyes that held a hint of teasing.
Her question took him by surprise. He looked at her friends, but they gave him disappointed smiles, indicating they were already taken.
A great musical flourish sounded. This signal unleashed a buzz of activity across the ballroom. Gentlemen began circulating through the room to find their partners. It wasn’t long before Miss Rolland’s friends had all been whisked away—but not before each one had given her prettiest smile to Douglas.
Busfield walked up and, with only a cursory greeting to Douglas, offered his arm to Miss Rolland. She laid one hand on his arm and gave Douglas a little wave with the other. “Remember, it’s the waltz after the second lancers!”
As he led her away, Busfield spared Douglas a sneering glance, as though he’d bested him somehow.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Douglas said under his breath once they were gone. He smiled to himself. This was all just another form of negotiation, and he was an expert at that. If he thought of it that way, his natural competitive instincts took over and increased his enjoyment of it all.
For the moment, he was in a situation that he ought to have anticipated. He felt he should make an appearance at this opening march. There were no steps to worry about; one simply escorted a lady around, following the leader. However, he’d have to be suitably introduced to any young lady before he could ask her to dance. He certainly did not want to inadvertently cause a scandal by committing a crime against proper etiquette. That would be worse than not dancing at all.
A short distance off, he spotted a woman standing by herself. Judging by the wisps of gray threaded through her dark hair, she was perhaps around fifty years old. She was tall and somewhat broad. Given that her gown, which was not in the latest style, fit rather too snugly, Douglas guessed she hadn’t always been so stout.
What really caught his attention, though, was that her foot was tapping in time with the lively music calling people to the grand march. Her wistful expression as she observed the couples lining up to begin made it clear she wanted to be a part of the proceedings.
Douglas didn’t think she was one of the more important matrons at this ball. She was someone’s aunt, perhaps. Or a cousin. Whoever she was, she wore a dance card around her wrist, so she must be open to the idea of dancing. He took in all these details in a moment. This unlikely combination of things told him he should take a chance.
He approached her. “I beg your pardon, madam. My name is Douglas Shaw. I hope you won’t think me too forward, but . . .”
He paused. He knew he was considered handsome. He’d done his best to avoid allowing that knowledge to make him vain, but tonight he was heartily glad he’d been blessed with good looks.
The woman’s eyes grew wide with happy surprise at being thus addressed. She said tremulously, “Yes?”
He could almost feel the way she was hoping against hope as her gaze locked on his.
“I recently had the honor of becoming acquainted with the Misses Travers, Lawson, and Brenner. Would you be among their party? If so, then you and I might say we have already made an acquaintance—in a manner of speaking.” Douglas had guessed that she was related to one of those young ladies largely by her proximity to them.
She nodded. “Why, yes. I am Mrs. Andrews, Miss Lawson’s aunt. I am chaperoning her this evening because her mother—my sister—is under the weather. But I don’t like to hover too closely, as I believe young people should be allowed room for a bit of fun.”
“Fun should not be reserved only for the young,” he countered cheerfully. “I don’t suppose you would honor me by allowing me to escort you for the march?”
She looked as though she could hardly believe what she’d heard, but she lost no time responding. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Shaw.”
They found a place in line just as the march got underway. The primary purpose of the march was to provide an opportunity for the gentlemen and ladies to observe each other. This was especially important for the ladies, as they had the important task of judging one another’s gowns. The men were a more homogeneous group, dressed in black coat and tie, with the exception of the occasional officer in uniform or Scottish gentleman in a kilt.
The couples stood side by side in a long line, following the lead couple as they walked toward the top of the room. At that point, the men split off to the left and the women to the right. Douglas had practiced this with a smaller group at one of his dancing lessons, but tonight he was astounded to see how it looked with hundreds of people. Still leading their respective rows of men and women, the head couple circled back to the place they’d begun and then rejoined. Everyone following did likewise, reconnecting with their partners. Then they split up again. This time the rows of men and ladies passed each other as they followed the lead of the top couple. As Miss Rolland breezed by Douglas, she gave him a brilliant smile. She wasn’t the only young lady to send lingering gazes in his direction. Douglas basked in the knowledge that he was making such a good impression.
The march was surprisingly energetic. They were moving swiftly and covering a lot of ground. The lead couple each wound their way separately around the room, creating ingenious patterns as the long lines of people followed in their wake. At last the couples were brought together once more. As Douglas took Mrs. Andrews’s arm again, she looked so ecstatic that he was glad he had asked her to dance.
When the music ended, everyone was out of breath and yet laughing, too. After many thanks to one another, Douglas and Mrs. Andrews parted with amicable good wishes. The lady presumably went back to her nonhovering oversight of her niece, while Douglas found a spot where he could watch the dancing. He watched carefully, noting how the couples interacted with one another, how the ladies were led off the floor by their dance partners, and how they reconnected with new partners for the next dance. This was all information he could use.
Several times he caught sight of Miss Rolland. She clearly enjoyed dancing. She constantly wore a delighted expression and seemed to flirt with every partner. Most men simply accepted it with gracious good humor. Busfield was different. Whenever they danced, he spent a lot of time whispering in her ear, looking very serious. She did not seem to mind, and several times she gave a sly smile, as if he were saying something scandalous. Was he really a serious contender for her hand? Douglas would have to find out.
Douglas had watched five or six dances when he was joined by Mr. Henley.
“I’m glad we found you,” Henley said. He was accompanied by a tall, elderly man who was impeccably dressed, right down to the diamond stud in his cravat. Henley introduced him as Viscount Pennington.
Instantly, Douglas forgot about the dancing. Here was his first introduction to a member of the aristocracy, and it couldn’t be better. The viscount was active politically and known to promote laws favorable to trade.
Douglas gave him a bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The viscount studied Douglas through gold-rimmed spectacles. “Did I see you in the grand march with Mrs. Andrews?”
“Yes, sir,” Douglas said. Had that been a mistake after all? He exchanged a worried glance with Henley.
The viscount smiled. “Well done, young man. Mrs. Andrews is the sister of an old school chum of mine. She was quite the dancer in her day. It was good of you to take her around.”
“Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure. She is a charming lady.”
Henley looked proud enough to bust the buttons off his shirt. He was too good a businessman not to realize that Douglas had just pulled off an important maneuver for getting into the viscount’s good graces.
“I had the honor of making his lordship’s acquaintance just this evening, and he was kind enough to agree when I asked him if I might introduce him to my right-hand man,” Henley enthused. “I told him you are an admirable gentleman as well as quite astute when it comes to business,” he added, implying that Douglas had just proved his point by dancing with Mrs. Andrews. Turning to the viscount, Henley said, “Sir, I wonder if we might take a few minutes of your time to discuss a bill that’s just been sent up to the Lords from Parliament, regarding international trade contracts and liability.”
The viscount acquiesced, but as Henley began to lay out a case for supporting the bill, his interest seemed to fade rapidly. “It sounds very intriguing,” he said, although his attention was focused on some friends he’d spotted across the room. He gave them a quick wave before saying to Henley, “Why don’t you pop round to my solicitor tomorrow and fill him in on the details. That will help me decide how to approach the debates.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d be delighted.”
“And now back to the fun, eh?” the viscount said and left them to join his friends.
“That went well,” Henley said.
Douglas frowned. “Do you really think so? He only seemed concerned about how it would affect his own interests.”
“I’ve never met an aristocrat who approached life any differently, to be honest. But we do what we can. You pulled off quite a coup with that grand march. It’s gotten us in the door with his lordship’s solicitor. That’s a good start.”
Perhaps, but Douglas found it disappointing. The viscount wasn’t interested in socializing with them, only in discussing business—and even then, only briefly. That invisible barrier was still firmly in place.
“Have you danced with Miss Rolland yet?” Henley asked.
His question brought Douglas’s mind back to the next order of business. “Not yet. I believe it’s coming up.”
“Well, have at it. I’m off to find some refreshment.”
The dancers were finishing up the lancers. Miss Rolland was escorted from the floor by a man Douglas didn’t recognize. Apparently Busfield was only in for the waltzes.
Douglas walked over to her and gave a little bow. “I believe we are next?”
“Oh yes!” Miss Rolland’s face was flushed with happiness as she accepted his proffered arm.
As Douglas led her out to find a spot among the other dancers, he could feel beads of perspiration break out on his brow. Here was the test he’d been dreading. He placed his hand on the small of Miss Rolland’s back. She was shorter and rounder than Alice, but he figured that shouldn’t matter when it came to the dancing. He could compensate for her shorter step. He took a deep breath and led off as the music began.
One, two, three times around. The letters flowed in his head, buoyed by the underlying dots and dashes. He and Miss Rolland moved smoothly together. Douglas wanted to bless Alice for her help, but he didn’t dare allow his mind to wander too far from the task at hand.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on the talking.
Miss Rolland said, “Are you enjoying the company this evening, Mr. Shaw?”
Her question disrupted the mental stream of dots and dashes that allowed him to keep time with the music. “I—I beg your pardon?” It was all he could get out, and he tried to say it in rhythm with his steps to avoid disaster.
“I was highly amused to see you paired with Mrs. Andrews in the march. Of all people! I would have thought it ridiculous, except you looked so utterly charming, leading her around as though she were the most elegant woman in the world and not some old cow sent by Mary’s mother to keep watch on all of us.”
“I don’t think you’re being charitable. She is very nice.” Again, his words came out very singsong, matching the one-two-three of the waltz. He wanted to say more, but he had to keep his mind on the steps. As it was, he narrowly missed stepping on Miss Rolland’s toe.
“If you say so,” she replied dismissively, then immediately launched into another subject. “There are so many interesting people here tonight. I danced the polka with Baron von Halberstadt, who was once a school friend of Prince Albert! He is old, of course, but amusing nonetheless. And I danced the schottische with Lord Stanford, whose cousin is that notorious earl who eloped with an American heiress. . . .”
Douglas vaguely heard her words, but he allowed them to roll over his head. He smiled down at her, his expression frozen in place as he concentrated. For a while, she seemed content to do all the talking. But then she paused and looked at him expectantly. He realized she’d just asked him a question.
“Well?” she pressed. “What do you think of him?”
“Who?”
“Viscount Pennington.” She said his name in nasal, clipped syllables that mimicked upper-crust speech. “I saw you talking with him. He’s rather a bore, don’t you think?”
Douglas stopped midstep. Taken by surprise, Miss Rolland stumbled ungracefully, then glared up at him. They bumped into another couple as he tried to help Miss Rolland recover her balance. He was rewarded with their offended scowls.
Sending apologetic smiles to everyone in the vicinity, Douglas pulled Miss Rolland out of the stream of dancers so he could gather his wits. “I was just thinking that I’d so much rather look at you than talk just now. Your eyes are positively sparkling, the way they perfectly match the color of your dress.” He paired these words with the ardent gaze of a suitor.
She tapped him lightly with her fan. “You are incorrigible, sir.”
“Let’s dance now and talk later, shall we? Perhaps over a nice glass of punch?”
She gave him a coy smile. “Why do you think I saved you the dance that’s just before the break?”
Douglas raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the incorrigible one?”
She giggled. Clearly the crisis was past.
They resumed dancing. Miss Rolland continued to make comments from time to time, but Douglas merely nodded and smiled. When at last the waltz ended, they came to a smooth halt on the final note. A massive feeling of relief and triumph rolled over him. He felt his chest expand in pride. They passed Busfield as they left the dance floor. The bank officer said nothing, but he regarded Douglas with narrowed eyes.
Jealous, Douglas thought. He smiled down at Miss Rolland. “Now, about that punch?”
“Yes, indeed!” she replied enthusiastically.
He began to lead her toward the refreshment room. It was easy to guess which direction it was in, since many others seemed to be going the same way.
Miss Rolland paused and looked up at him. “I was just thinking—there are bound to be a lot of people crowding the drink tables just now. Why don’t we wait a bit?” She tucked her arm tighter around his. “In the meantime, I know a quiet place where we can cool down.”
Douglas had a good idea where this was going. He hadn’t expected her to do something like this so soon. The dancing had been a major challenge, but he suspected he was about to navigate even trickier waters.
He gave a quick look around, judging who was near them and who might be watching. There was no sign of her father. During her monologue while they’d been dancing, she’d mentioned that at social events, he generally preferred to spend his time in whatever room was designated for men to enjoy a cigar and a glass of whisky. Nor did Douglas see the Henleys anywhere.
He did see Busfield, who was watching them from a short distance away. His attention was forcefully diverted, however, by the three young ladies Miss Rolland had introduced Douglas to earlier. They approached Busfield from behind, so that he was forced to turn his back on Douglas and Miss Rolland in order to speak with them.
Douglas also noticed Miss Rolland’s smile of satisfaction. “This way,” she said, tugging on his arm. It had all been beautifully choreographed.
He had expected to step onto a terrace or into one of the little groves of potted trees for the few moments of privacy Miss Rolland had obviously planned. Instead, she led him down several hallways. He grew more worried the farther they got from the noise and lights of the ball. Flirting was one thing, causing a scandal was quite another.
“I hardly think all this walking will cool us down,” he pointed out nervously.
“Almost there.” She paused, pointing to a closed door farther down the hall. “That is a small parlor. Hardly any of the guests would know about it. I’ll go in first, just to ensure it’s not occupied.”
“All right.” At this point he had to go along with her plan, although he was determined not to spend too much time here. He would not risk damaging either of their reputations.
Miss Rolland slipped down the hall and into the parlor. Almost immediately she came back out and waved him forward. As soon as he was inside, she shut the door. The room was in shadows, illuminated only by stray beams from the streetlamp outside.
“Well, this is cozy,” Douglas murmured. “Miss Rolland—”
She took hold of his hands. “Please call me Penelope,” she commanded in a breathless voice. She lifted her face to his. “You will no doubt think me scandalously forward. But from the day we met, I knew we had a certain connection. Don’t you feel it, too?”
At the moment, what Douglas felt was supreme uneasiness as she pressed herself closer to him. It was clear what she wanted. He dislodged his hands from hers and gently grasped her upper arms. The sooner he kissed her, the sooner they could extract themselves from this potentially dangerous situation.
“Yes,” he said. “I feel . . .”
It didn’t seem to matter that he couldn’t finish the sentence. Her dreamy gaze showed that she accepted this as proof he was too moved to put his feelings into words.
Then he kissed her. Or she kissed him. He wasn’t sure which of them moved first. But did it matter? He told himself it should not matter that she had orchestrated this moment. Why shouldn’t he be pleased with a woman who didn’t hesitate to go after what she wanted? He certainly would never be content with a shrinking violet.
Nor was the kiss entirely unpleasant—although he found himself oddly aware that this time there were no clashing cymbals in the background. Then he felt like the worst kind of cad for even thinking about that right now.
Miss Rolland reached for his lapels and pulled him closer in an effort to prolong the kiss. Douglas obliged. When at last he felt like he could step back without insulting her, he did.
She raised a hand to her cheek, her dreamy, happy expression returning. “Oh, my heavens!” she said softly.
“Miss Rolland—Penelope—I feel we shouldn’t stay here. I have too high a regard for your virtue—”
“I understand.” She gave him an adoring smile “You are a true gentleman.”
He was glad she had accepted his excuse at face value. “Thank you for your trust. Let’s get you back to the dancing.” He pointed toward her dance card. “Those gentlemen will be quite angry with me.”
“None of them hold a candle to you,” she breathed.
Douglas shifted in discomfort. He did not deserve such praise. “Let’s get going,” he repeated. She clung to him, and he gave her a last kiss before they left the parlor.
Was Miss Rolland in love with him or merely infatuated? The question seemed vitally important in light of the conversation he’d had with Alice. As for his own sentiments, he had to admit he was no closer to being in love with Penelope Rolland than he’d been before. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage it, or even if he was right in trying to force feelings that simply weren’t there.
They made their way back to the ball without incident and were able to get a glass of punch before it was time for the next dance partner to take Miss Rolland away. She parted from him reluctantly, but Douglas felt only relief.
He had, to varying degrees, accomplished what he’d come here for. In so many ways, though, it seemed like only the beginning of a long and uncertain road.