Page 12 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

T he ball was in full swing when he arrived, and when he entered he was accosted by the warmth of so many bodies in a room together and the level of noise from the musicians and the attendees.

He forced himself to walk through the crowd, even though a large part of him wanted to walk away.

He was already late. There was a chance she had already left.

But just in case… His eyes scanned the dance floor to see if he could spot her amongst the couples there, but there was no sign of her golden hair.

He walked the perimeter, smiling politely when he caught the eye of any of the young ladies looking to dance, but not stopping.

He was only here to dance with one lady.

And just when he thought that she must have left, that he’d messed up yet again, he spotted her. She was standing next to her father, who was seated on a chair looking rather disinterested. She was watching the dancers, which Spencer thought was a crying shame—she should be dancing.

With him.

He cut through the crowd, not allowing his anxieties to get the better of him, and stopped right in front of them.

Lady Beatrix’s eyes widened when she realized it was he, and he beamed in response, his heart lifting in spite of his recent reticence. “Good evening, Lady Beatrix, Lord Haxbury. I apologize. I realize I am rather tardy to the dance tonight.”

“Indeed you are,” Lord Haxbury said, and Spencer thought he heard a hint of disapproval. “We were planning to leave soon.”

Lady Beatrix bit her full, pink bottom lip, making it plump and grow more rosy, and Spencer found it hard to focus on his next question. “My apologies. I was hoping you would still have a dance free, Lady Beatrix…”

Her answering smile warmed his heart. How had he been thinking that he might not come tonight? And why were these other men so foolish that they did not ask this gem of a woman to dance?

She glanced at her father, hope in her eyes. “Would you mind awfully if we stayed for one more dance, Papa?”

For a moment, Spencer thought her father might refuse. But it seemed he, too, loved to see his daughter smile.

“Of course. Take as long as you like. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

*

Beatrix hated herself for being so pleased to see Lord Leighton, and for appearing so desperate to dance.

But she couldn’t help it. She could not hide her excitement. She had been waiting for him, and she had thought that he would not come.

And now here he was. Oh, she knew it was only one dance. But she had been so disappointed in her many years out in society that she was rather too easily pleased.

He looked more handsome than ever. His cheeks were red, his eyes bright, and she no longer cared that he had missed most of the ball.

After all, he was here now. And he wanted to dance with her.

There was a shortage of men at the ball, and he could have had his pick of young ladies.

Indeed, Beatrix had only been asked to dance once all night, before Lord Leighton had appeared.

And she had chosen her prettiest pale pink dress for the occasion and had Jemima plait her hair so that it looked like a crown.

And still, she went unnoticed.

“Shall we, Lady Beatrix?” Lord Leighton said, and she took his offered hand and felt like this was where she belonged.

The dance was one she knew very well, and it seemed Lord Leighton did too, for he did not trip up as he had done when they had danced at Vauxhall Gardens.

He made her feel tongue-tied, but she could not turn down the opportunity to speak with him. For who knew when she would next get the chance?

“I thought you might not be attending after all,” she said, unintentionally admitting how much she had thought about the situation.

Lord Leighton closed his eyes momentarily. “I must apologize. I find social situations…somewhat challenging.”

What on earth did that mean? That he wished to live in the country like Lord Filton?

She thought she remembered him saying that he did not wish to return to the country…

And yet, she found herself thinking that she would not mind being secluded in the countryside so much if it was with Lord Leighton.

Foolish girl. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You are not living in a fairy tale.

“Well, I’m glad that you came,” she told him honestly. For what was the point in hiding how she felt? She was sure she had already come across as a pathetic spinster. No point in turning back now.

“I’m glad I did too,” he said with a smile that nearly stopped her heart. “And I hope it is not too forward of me to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

She felt her cheeks flaming red and looked down at the floor, missing a step. She could not remember the last time she had been so complimented. Well, Lord Filton had tried to compliment her, but when he spoke the words made her feel uncomfortable.

Lord Leighton’s words made her feel like she might burst into flames on the spot.

“Thank you…” She looked into his dark eyes and felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

This was what she had always dreamed about.

Romance, a love match, feeling giddy at the thought of seeing someone.

And she had thought that she had lost the chance for such a thing to happen to her when he had not called on her, and then when Ambrose had died. But perhaps she still had a chance…

“Would your father forgive me if I asked for another dance, do you think? Of course, unless you are otherwise engaged…”

He surely knew that she had no dances lined up—she had been standing with the wallflowers watching the dancing when he had arrived, not in the fray. But she appreciated him asking anyway. People would surely talk if they danced together twice in a row…but she found she didn’t care.

She wanted to dance with him.

“I think he’ll forgive you,” she said with a smile. “But then I will have to take him home before he falls asleep in his chair.”

The second dance was more complicated, but in spite of how rarely she danced these days, Beatrix still remembered every step. Every time her eyes met Lord Leighton’s, she found herself blushing, and she barely noticed when he missed a step or almost caught her toes beneath his boots.

It was another magical evening, one she’d had precious few of in her life, and she knew she would remember it forever.

The musicians reached the crescendo of the piece when there was a sudden crash. Beatrix whirled around to see an inebriated-looking man surrounded by broken glasses; by the looks of the very wet floor and the silver tray rolling away, he had knocked into someone carrying a large number of drinks.

As the staff hurried in to clean up, Beatrix turned back to Lord Leighton—to find him ashen-faced and frozen to the spot.

“Lord Leighton?”

“I—excuse me.” He barely got the words out before he dashed from the floor, leaving Beatrix alone in the chaos.

For a moment, Beatrix stood where she had been left, unsure what to do.

She didn’t think anyone had noticed him departing so abruptly, thanks to the smashed glass…

She wanted to follow him, to see if he was all right, to find out what had happened to make him run away.

Because this time, she was sure she hadn’t done anything to prompt his exit.

She glanced over at her father, and saw—in spite of the loud crash—he had indeed fallen asleep in his chair. And so, without thinking any further, she turned on her heel and followed Lord Leighton from the ballroom.