Page 46 of Twice Upon a Midnight

Truly, though, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Hadn’t mistreated her or her parents, hadn’t been rude or domineering, hadn’t attempted to take any liberties beyond holding her hand and occasionally giving a squeeze of affection to her elbow when they walked together in the park. He treated her better than any other society gentleman would have, with genuine likeability and respect. That was far more than most society marriages possessed, she supposed, and it should have been enough to calm any doubts she had about their courtship.

But it wasn’t enough for her heart.

“Lovely ball, isn’t it?” Simon gestured at the room with his champagne flute. “Everyone who’s anyone is here. Lord Whitwell must be thrilled about the turnout.”

“That’s the mark of a good party, is it?”

“Of course it is. It’s the reason anyone hosts grand balls like this during the season.” He slid her an amused smile. “You were away on the Continent too long. You’ve forgotten how English society works.”

She forced a smile and took a large sip of champagne. She hoped Lord Whitwell possessed a deep wine cellar for the evening.

“The whole point of affairs like this is to see and be seen,” he explained as he leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear, even though the noise of the party wasn’t so loud as to require it. “To make contacts with influential people.”

“Silly me,” she muttered. “I thought it was simply to dance and have a good time.”

“That, too.” He straightened as he gave her a wink.

Well, at least she might dance several times tonight, and not all of them had to be with Simon. She could look forward to that, at least.

“‘When you do dance,’” she recited, a pleased smile pulling at her lips that the moment was right to inject literature, “‘I wish you a wave ‘o the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.’”

Simon blinked. “Pardon?”

“It’s Shakespeare.” Her heart seized with hope that he would discuss the bard with her. Oh, she so much wanted that! “The Winter’s Tale. What do you think of it?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“Oh?” Her heart foolishly bounced. “It’s playing at Drury Lane this month.” Perhaps they could attend the theatre together, finally share a cultural experience they could discuss, and—

“I’m not fond of theatre prattle-prattle.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Bores me stiff.”

“Oh.” With that, her heart plummeted right through the floor.

She took a sip of champagne to hide any traces of frustration on her face and turned away under the pretense of looking around the room, as if searching for someone. For anyone. Foranyreason she could find to excuse herself from his company and seek out a quiet place where she could cry in peace.

At that moment, she knew she would be unmarried for the rest of her life.

Simon couldn’t compare to Spenser—no one could. If she couldn’t have the man she loved, then she didn’t want any one. Her parents would simply have to realize that the same way she had.

A commotion at the top of the stairs caught the room’s attention. Everyone who wasn’t in the midst of dancing turned toward the landing where guests were announced by the master of ceremonies before descending into the ballroom. Necks craned, fans halted in mid-flitter, old hens silenced themselves in the middle of salacious gossip—and Ella prayed she could use the distraction as an opportunity to flee.

“I don’t give a damn if I’m not invited. I have business here.”

Ella caught her breath, recognizing that voice—“Spenser!”

She watched, dumbfounded, as he pushed past the master of ceremonies and approached the balustrade, where he stopped and stared down into the crush that filled the room. He searched the crowd, and she knew exactly whom he was looking for.

She raised her glass into the air.

“What the hell are you doing?” Simon hissed from beside her. “Put your glass down!”

So Ella raised it even higher, fixed her attention on Spenser, and held her breath as she waited for him to find her in the crowd.

He saw her and shoved himself away from the banister. He ignored the master of ceremonies and a footman who came forward to physically remove him from the party and hurried down into the ballroom, straight toward Ella. Behind him, an old man in a threadbare coat blocked the way of the footman and master of ceremonies, allowing Spenser to slip away into the crowd.

It was only when Spenser stopped in front of her that she realized he hadn’t been looking for her.

His gaze burned into Simon, and he ground out through clenched teeth, “Get away from her, you bastard.”