in such circumstances...and now she must force her attention back to the mercenary goals she had for this ball?
Impossible.
Chapter 27
As Max settled next to Abraham in his coupé, he examined the coachman carefully. He was an older man, at least in his sixties, and should have been retired, Max thought. Was his age partially to blame for the accident? It seemed possible, if not to say likely.
The man had an injury to the scalp above his left eyebrow, and it had bled a fair amount, staining his collar and overcoat. He kept his eyes closed, speaking little save to say that he had a headache, and he seemed a bit confused. Max hoped a surgeon could be summoned promptly, once they arrived at Ceastre.
It was good to be out of the downpour, though he noted that the rain was, in fact, letting up now. It would soon be night out, however, and he felt agitated and restless. The sooner they arrived, the better. He would take Abraham to the kitchen, and he hoped there to dry himself somewhat by the fire.
The delay had greatly unsettled him; already his anxiety drove him before he ever encountered the wreck, and seeing Miss Whitmore’s overturned carriage had done nothing to soothe his nerves.
Now that the crisis was past, he allowed himself to think through what had occurred.
Miss Whitmore’s landau had lost a wheel. The carriage floundered and collapsed to one side. They were all most fortunate not to have suffered serious injury. The horses, as well—they had been forced onto their sides, poor beasts. But the coupé’s coachman had assured Max there had been no serious damage to the animals. Indeed, overall the accident had turned out very well.
And it had allowed him to see Emilia Whitmore once more. To provide her with most welcome assistance—would that it had thawed her heart somewhat. Perhaps she might allow him at least to speak with her, at some point?
Max breathed in deeply. It was an unsought boon to learn that Miss Whitmore would attend the ball, after everything that had transpired. He had not allowed himself truly to hope that he would encounter her there.
How lovely she had looked, despite the anxious circumstances. All grace and elegance. He pictured the pallor of her face as she stared out at him from the De Ameland coach, her eyes black in the dim light. A beautiful ghost gazing out from shadows.
Max’s heartbeat accelerated at the image. Miss Whitmore was an exceptional woman. He could not deny it. His thoughts returned to her constantly.
What is there to do? What remedy might I seek?
I am hopelessly enamoured.
Max pictured himself finding her in the ballroom at Ceastre. Leaning over her hand. Guiding her onto the dance floor. Would that he could lead the lady in a waltz—just the two of them.
That is not the purpose of this evening, Maximilian.
You must school your thoughts to the goals at hand.
Easier said than done, with Miss Whitmore present. But he would try.
And what a piece of luck it was, to encounter Miss d’Este. He had a role for her in his scheme tonight. She had indicated a friendly nature when he first encountered her in Hyde Park, and here again she seemed to have maintained her cheerful disposition. He hoped that it would work to his advantage as he acted out his plan.
***
Servants met the De Ameland coach as they arrived in front of the Ceastre house, and provided shelter under large umbrellas as they assisted the guests to the staircase. Before entering the foyer, everyone stopped to brush mud from hems and footwear.
Emilia and Alice took care to allow Lady De Ameland and her two children to pass ahead as befit their station. Nevertheless, it must be obvious they arrived together due to the timing, and in addition as soon as Emilia was announced, Miss d’Este turned and grabbed her by the arm.
‘Oh, do accompany me, Miss Whitmore, I so long to see the dancers. I’m certain they’ll have started a set already. Have I any hope of joining in or must I wait a very long time, do you think?’
‘With some luck we shall find you a spot, Miss d’Este,’ Emilia said, smiling at the girl.
She was very young—almost too young to be out—but everyone knew her, of course. And walking through the crowd arm and arm with the granddaughter of His Majesty the King was just the thing if you wanted an assembly of nobles to accept your presence among