Page 10 of A Desperate Proposal

“I do love to dance,” she admitted. “But I never have derived the same enjoyment as my cousins.” It was never easy when one arrived at a ball with Mary Weston. Two years older than Elinor, she was her superior in every way, but especially in beauty. And now a title. “But what about you, my lord? What is it that you love to do?”

He shrugged at that. “If I am honest, I am not far behind Lady Summersby in enthusiasm when it comes to balls and dances, though not the public sort. A private ball with good friends and amiable company is one of the best ways to forget the world. Books are all well and good, but the sound of one’s own head can be as tedious as Claudio’s speeches after a while.”

She tilted her head to study him. Elinor didn’t know much about men save what books told her and her own observations of her brothers and cousins. But she’d never known any of them to actually enjoy attending balls. In fact, the only thing Alexander and Henry ever agreed on was how pointless they were. With a growing smirk, Elinor leaned closer. “A likely tale, Lord Asherton. But I find I don’t believe you.” She only realized after saying it that he might not appreciate the tease, and she felt her stomach tense. Until he chuckled and leaned in as well, and the tension became something else entirely.

He spoke, lowering his voice conspiratorially as if to keep the maids sweeping the next room ignorant of their exchange. “No? Then, if you are recovered in time, I shall request you save a dance for me at this wildly early date, Miss Harcourt. You may choose the one. I’ll know them all. We were quite fastidious in our repertoires in Portugal and Spain.”

“Were you not too busy fighting?”

The earl’s hazel eyes lit with amusement. “One cannot fight all day every day. There are a great many evenings of dire monotony and desperate nerves. An impromptu dance was often the best path to a few moments’ precious laughter and distraction amid weeks of hardship. And when staying in a city, such pleasant socializing is a key to helping the local population find their breaths and balance as well. It is a glimpse of normalcy they could cling to. So did we.”

“Oh. I … I see.” Just when she thought she could let herself breathe again, he stole her breath away. Her cheeks felt like he’d set a match beneath them. “I shall not dispute your tale, my lord. But to discern the truth, I suppose I will have to put you to the test.” She grinned, impressed with herself. She could converse easily after all. Arabella might never believe her.

“Then we shall certainly dance. And if your ankle is not up to it, I will promise to sit out a dance with you and report all the silliness you may have missed observing the revelers.” The Earl sat back, clearly at ease in Merfield’s palatial rooms. And, perhaps, with her own company?

Elinor beamed with genuine happiness. This wasn’t a seduction—she didn’t think—but an invitation for a friendship. That she could believe. After all, he surely wouldn’t mention details of life at war if he meant to seduce her. She still needed to remind herself to be careful. Especially with her wicked imagination trying its hardest to remind her how wonderful his arms felt around her. “It must feel good to be home?”

“In England?” Something of his expression was startled before he shrugged. “It is a relief in many ways. I am happy to see my sister. She has existed for too long as a parcel of letters and gifts in my mind.”

“I understand that to some extent,” she said, her thoughts returning to Bristol. “I am one of seven siblings, but I am especially close to my brother, Simon, and my sister, Olivia. Though we seldom ever see one another, I am always so happy to receive their letters.” Except for this last one when Simon told her of his intention to follow their elder brother into the military. Her heart broke just considering the path their father laid out for him.

“You removed to your uncle’s house quite young.” He sounded surprised. She swallowed hard. Had she said too much? Would he be able to guess from that why she’d left home so early?

“My uncle is extremely kind. I have been fortunate to be in his care.”

“I am glad to hear it. Certainly, my brother-in-law finds him worthy. I believe he is seeking a commission for one of his sons?”

Her smile fell in an instant. Edward was studying to be a doctor, like his father. Henry, a vicar. That meant that Alexander… But why wouldn’t he have told her he was leaving for the military? He’d been home long enough to have found the time. Then she remembered their last meeting before leaving Bath—the vague words, the mention of secrets. I should have pressed him! How could I fail to see…?

Recollecting her composure, she cleared her throat and nodded slowly. “I think my uncle would have been just as happy if Alexander followed in his footsteps and became a doctor. But my cousin has always forged his own way.”

“There is time yet. He might see a battlefield and choose to become a surgeon. The army always needs surgeons.” Asherton said it so easily, as if that might be a comfort. “Though he has missed out on the great war. With any luck, the peace will hold a century, and the army will not need half so many surgeons. Nor men. If the Americans and the colonies can settle themselves,” he added belatedly.

Was there such a thing as a great war? She stared at him, unconvinced, then shook her head. “I fear I do not know too much about what goes on in the Americas. I remember my mother and father speaking often of the East Indies when I was a child, but I was too young to remember much.” She didn’t dare say more lest he begin drawing connections and putting pieces together about her life and where she came from. “But I hope you are right. That we will soon know peace and that our men are spared further conflict for many years.”

“It will certainly be an interesting change of pace, not being at war with France.” He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes, appearing very tired at the thought. And perhaps a trifle skeptical. “I suppose it will give me a chance to learn how to be an earl instead of a Major.”

“For whatever it’s worth, I think you’ll be great at whatever you do.” And she meant it, too. After all, if they were going to truly be friends (and nothing more), she wanted him to know she wished well for him. And, she did genuinely hope he found happiness. Or at least peace. The weariness in his posture hurt to see.

Asherton laughed gently. Not the rough, grating way her father and brothers often did. He did not, come to think of it, sound much like any of the soldiers she knew. But then, he was an officer and a peer. Not a roughshod sergeant bullying his men into line. “My thanks for your confidence. Perhaps you could brave writing a letter of recommendation to my younger sister? Cecilia has no such confidence in my abilities.”

“Siblings can be trying at the best of times. I love all of mine but only like about half at once. And it varies by the day, truth be told,” she added dryly. “Though, seeing as I have plenty of time to spare, I need only a pen and paper and can write all the letters you desire.”

His lips turned up at one corner, his eyes dancing. “A most diverting idea, Miss Harcourt. But I am sure you will not have so much time as that. Once she is sure your ankle has not muddled your head, Evelina’s sure to deputize you into all manner of sedentary tasks. Or are you hoping my letters might supersede Lady Summersby’s seating arrangements and button sorting?”

“Lady Summersby knows better than to leave the seating arrangements to me. I wouldn’t mind button sorting, truth be told. It’ll at least give me something to do with my hands,” she said, tapping her fingers in quick succession on the leather-bound book. His gaze lingered on her hand for the barest moment before bustling footsteps called both their attention to the entrance, where Lady Summersby and Arabella stood framed by the delicate plasterwork, bearing considerably lighter baskets than they had scarce hours earlier.

“What unexpected company you’re keeping, Elinor!” Lady Summersby swept in to deliver a kiss on Asherton’s cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be back ‘til quite late, brother. Has something put you and the general off shooting today?”

“He received a pile of letters from his regiment requiring immediate attention, I’m afraid.”

“How dreary. You may never visit us again with such poor entertainment as this on offer.” She turned to greet Elinor properly, unexpectedly taking her hand. “And you, my poor dear! We took a full hour longer than I intended. But I thought it only right to retrieve you a few comforts in town.” She gestured at Arabella, who bounded forward to show her basket—emptied of its charity bundles—held a single package wrapped in brown paper stamped with flowers, which her cousin gleefully handed over.

“We got you two flavors!” Arabella clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling, as if the words had slipped out on their own.

Elinor couldn’t help but smile. Bella’s exuberance reminded her of how things used to be between them, when they were younger and society didn’t matter quite so much. Pushing herself to sit straighter, she took the package and unfolded the paper, revealing a tin, which proved to be filled with bright pink and yellow squares dusted in snowy sugar. Turkish Delight. She knew she should gracefully express her gratitude, but it had been so long since she’d had such a treat—let alone her favorite candy of all—that a giggle erupted from her own lips. Her eyes widened with surprise, and she covered her mouth. “Forgive me.” The heat swept down her cheeks. She prayed she wasn’t blushing all the way down her chest as she lifted a pink square to inhale the rose-candy scent. “Did Arabella tell you these were my favorite?”

“I wasn’t sure if they still were, that’s why we got lemon, too.” Bella admitted, glowing with pride. Elinor reached for her cousin’s hand, pleased when the gesture was easily accepted. She nodded to their hostess.