Turning her attention away from her sister, Mariah smiled graciously as Elizabeth introduced her to a new group of ladies, whose names she would never be able to remember when added to the hundred other people she’d already met tonight. It was always the same…a flash of surprised recognition as they suddenly realized who she was and remembered the reputation she’d garnered for herself, followed immediately by acceptance because the Duchess of Trent was at her side. Mariah suspected that she could have danced through St Paul’s in her night rail and all would be excused as long as Elizabeth vouched for her.
As she rose from her curtsy, the crowd parted in front of her. The gap lasted only a heartbeat, but it was long enough for her to glimpse Robert across the room. In his formal attire, he stole her breath away. Snow-white breeches that hugged his muscular thighs beneath a white satin waistcoat and intricately knotted cravat, a dark blue cashmere jacket and sapphire cravat pin that matched the blue of his eyes, rakishly mussed hair that shined golden in the light of the chandeliers and had her longing to run her fingers through it…Heavens.
As if feeling her gaze on him, he looked up, meeting her stare across the room. A flash of heated longing fell through her so intensely that she shivered.
“There you are, Mariah! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
A hand at her elbow snatched her attention away. When she glanced back, the crowd had pushed in, and Robert had disappeared.
Squashing a surprising pang of loss, she turned and smiled. “Whitby, you know—” She bit off her words as her chest tightened with dread. “You’ve left your post. What did Evie do?”
“Nothing.” He jerked a thumb toward the corner of the room. “She’s chatting with the Marchioness of Chesney.”
He gave her a silly grin that caused his dimples to deepen and made him appear even more boyish than usual. His clothes didn’t help. He wore the same style of evening attire as every other gentleman in the room—although in decidedly brighter colors and a plethora of patterns that made Mariah wonder if his tailor had gone mad—but on Whitby, his clothes made him look as if someone had stretched Beau Brummell on the rack.
“I’m here for our dance.” He gave an elaborate bow from the waist, which nearly toppled him over, then held out his hand with decorum. “Miss Winslow, our waltz.”
Her heart tugged for him. “I would be honored, Mr. Whitby.”
With a beaming smile, he placed her hand on his arm and led her toward the dance floor as the master of ceremonies announced the first waltz. Other couples took their places around them until the floor was as crowded as the rest of the room. But when the music began and the men whirled their partners into their steps, the others wisely made room for an exuberant Whitby as he charged across the floor with her at more than double the tempo of the waltz.
Laughing at his enthusiasm, and wondering if the metronome was broken when he learned to dance, Mariah gave herself over to the sheer fun of the moment and simply tried to keep up. They’d cleared a path down the floor and back when she spied Robert. She craned her neck for a better look just as Whitby twirled her into a circle, just as she caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman in Robert’s arms—
With a gasp, Mariah stumbled, and Whitby flayed his arms in an uncoordinated grab to catch her. That brought them both to a sudden halt, which in turn sent several couples who had been bravely attempting to pace them careening in all directions.
Concern tightened Whitby’s face. “Are you all right?”
She looked up sheepishly at him. Thank goodness the shock heating her cheeks of seeing Robert dancing with another woman was hidden by the embarrassment of her stumble. “I’m fine. Just tripped over my own feet.” She moved back into position. “Shall we?”
He nodded, but a perturbed frown pulled at his brow. Leading her more slowly now, he shot a glance behind her to where she’d been gazing when she stumbled. “You were looking at Carlisle.”
“Can you blame me?” Perturbed at being so easily caught gawking after the man, she arched a brow and pretended her attentions were simply part of their war. “A wise admiral always knows where the enemy’s fleet is anchored.”
He nodded but wisely kept them moving at a slower pace so she wouldn’t trip again, which was now at half speed to the orchestra and bottlenecked the couples behind them. She affectionately squeezed his hand. Whitby was a dear friend but an absolute menace on the dance floor.
“Didn’t you expect to see him waltzing?” he asked, as persistent as a dog after a bone.
Not at all. But she refused to admit that. “I’m only concerned about his unfortunate partner.” She sniffed and gave a haughty toss of her head. “That the poor girl must suffer his boorish attentions.”
He hee-hawed a laugh. “You’re jealous!”
Horror sank through her. “I most certainly am not!”
“Oh, you are.” He grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Mrs. Smith is going to crow when I tell her!”
“I am not interested in Carlisle,” she hissed out, with a smile still firmly glued in place for anyone who was watching and a small pang of remorse for lying to her best friend. Whitby didn’t deserve her dissembling, but neither did she want to discuss Robert Carlisle with him. “That man has made my life a confused mess since the moment he walked into it.” And that was most definitely not a lie.
“Yes. But you’re still jealous that he’s waltzing with someone else, while you only had the opening quadrille.”
Blast him for being right! She was jealous. Whitby knew her too well not to notice that it pricked at her. But she would never tell him that she’d found herself attracted to Carlisle, enough that she’d let him kiss her so passionately in the schoolroom. Or admit to the hurt he’d inflicted when he’d made that callous comment about how he didn’t want to burn himself on her.
That other woman was welcome to him. Mariah certainly did not want that intolerable man for herself…but drat it, she didn’t want anyone else to have him, either.
“I will admit,” she answered, deliberately choosing her words, “that Robert Carlisle is an attractive man, if a lady likes that golden Adonis sort.” Which she did. A great deal. “And he does appear to have some fine qualities, if a person is able to overlook that prickly personality of his.”
“Prickly?” He glanced curiously in Robert’s direction. “That’s some neat trick.”
She puzzled. “What is?”
“How a man can turn himself into a cactus,” he goaded teasingly. “But then, Adonis was the god of plants.”
She rolled her eyes with failing patience. “Not of plants, Whitby. The god of spring’s rebirth.”
“So you admit that Carlisle is a god?”
“Robert Carlisle is not an Adonis!”
The aggravated words flew out before she could stop them, and in her pique, just loudly enough for all the nearby couples to hear. The women tittered at her embarrassment, while the men smiled smugly to have their jealous opinions of Robert confirmed.
A hot blush heated the back of her neck. For once, Whitby’s antics were not amusing. She lowered her voice and glared daggers at him, which only broadened his grin. Drat him.
“Robert Carlisle is attempting to take Winslow Shipping away from me,” she reminded him. “And his goal is to marry me off, don’t forget.”
That vanished his grin. He said somberly. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“And risk losing my allowance?” The severity of that thought landed hard on her shoulders, which sagged beneath the weight of it. That was still a very real threat. Papa would never force her to marry the first man who came along just to be wed and out of his house. But if a proper gentleman with a solid reputation and financial resources offered for her, then he might very well carry out his threat rather than let her refuse. “What would Gatewell do then? And all the children? Where would they go if they didn’t have us to shelter them? What would happen to them?”
When he couldn’t answer, she looked away as fresh frustration knotted inside her. Over a month had passed since Papa laid down his ultimatum, and nothing about her situation had changed. Her allowance was still as tenuous as ever, and Whitby certainly wasn’t helping with all his taunts about Robert.