that voice in Stygian darkness. “Mr. Dorning, good evening.”
Ash Dorning, tall, dark-haired, and lean, made an impressive figure in evening attire. The jewel in his cravat pin exactly matched the striking periwinkle hue of his eyes, and his smile was neither forced nor improper. He and James held some sort of silent male conversation. Ash smiled steadily, James looked askance, raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.
“Enjoy your dance, my lady.” He drifted away without bowing.
Della gathered up the tattered remains of her dignity and gazed out across the ballroom. Many people had seen this exchange, and every one of them would wonder what on earth had just transpired.
Della herself had no idea. “You need not spare me a pity waltz, Mr. Dorning. You’ve avoided me for months, and I am actually a bit fatigued.”
On close inspection, Ash looked tired too. His eyes were shadowed, his mouth bore a slight tension. When he’d first distanced himself from her, Della had suspected him of suffering some physical ailment. The Dornings were notoriously robust, though, and months of listening for any scrap of gossip associated with Ash or his club had yielded no support for Della’s theory.
He simply did not like her as much as she liked him—as she had liked him.
“I saw what happened with Fletcher,” Ash said, referring to Della’s partner for the allemande. “I saw your quadrille. You will please dance the supper waltz and share the buffet with me. We have a family connection, and you are entitled to my loyalty. Nobody will remark my partnering you.”
Couples were moving onto the floor, and the waltz was Della’s favorite dance. “I do not want your loyalty, Mr. Dorning. I would rather have your friendship.”
His smile remained in place, and yet, his expression grew subtly pained. “You have both, do you but know it. Shall we dance?”
Della had longed desperately for just that invitation from him. A year ago, even a month ago, she would have been delighted to turn down the room in his arms.
“I do not want your pity, Mr. Dorning.”
“I do not pity you.” He held out his gloved hand.
Nicholas approached, holding two glasses of punch, his expression wary and hopeful. “Dorning, a pleasure.”
“Bellefonte, good evening. I aspire to dance the supper waltz with her ladyship.”
Nicholas would not plead with Della in public, but he was the head of the family and concerned not only for her but for all the cousins, in-laws, sisters, daughters, and aunties.
“Very well.” Della put her hand in Mr. Dorning’s. “The honor is mine, Mr. Dorning.”
“Try not to look as if you’re being led to the gallows,” Ash murmured. “We are putting on a spectacle. I apologize for Fletcher’s unseemly clumsiness.”
The introduction began as they reached the dance floor. Della sank into a curtsey, then assumed waltz position. Ash kept a scrupulously correct distance between them, and yet, she was in his arms, gazing up at him with curiosity rather than ire.
That was progress. Toward what, he did not know.
“I suspect Mr. Fletcher was put up to partnering me as part of some drunken wager,” Della said.
He owed her honesty, in this at least. “I put him up to it.”
Ash moved off with her and was reminded that Della Haddonfield was a superb dancer. Some ladies followed a lead well and were easy to guide. Della needed no guidance. By instinct alone, she matched a man’s steps, such that he could think a direction, and she was there with him.
“You need not put anybody up to anything for my sake, Mr. Dorning. Was Dunwald your idea too?”
He nodded. “And Neely-Goodman.” He braced himself for anger, but Della merely shifted her hand higher on his shoulder, taking a slightly firmer hold of him.
“Are there others?”
“I thought three sufficient to quell the worst of the gossip.” He twirled her under his arm on a corner and broke a little piece of his heart as she smoothly came back into his embrace. How long had he dreamed of turning down the room with the lovely Lady Della? How long had he watched as one lucky man after another bowed over her hand and led her out?
Della matched his steps through an intricate pirouette. “I am beyond salvation, Mr. Dorning, though I do appreciate the effort you’ve made on my behalf. I wonder why you made it.”
Because this at least I can do for you. Because I owe you. Because… He tossed aside the answers she would never believe and instead settled for one she would.