He should stop now. Flirting could get a man in a tangle that could not be untangled, except by a minister.
Joshua glanced over his shoulder to see the orchestra warming up. Of all the women at the Carlisle’s ball, the Taylor girls might be the safest. A good family and one central to some of the memories he had of Long Leaf. But three dances were only a short part of tonight’s festivities. He took a deep breath and, with one arm behind his back, held his other hand open, palm up, while Kat Taylor placed her hand in his.
He was reminded of Lord Chesterfield’s admonition. “Dancing is one of those established follies, to which people of sense are sometimes obliged to conform.” He wondered how many waltzes resulted in births nine months later.
Seeing Kat’s adoring gaze fixed upon him, Joshua reminded himself to frown as they took the first steps of the waltz. He had no intention of finding himself betrothed after one dance.
*
“Who is that dancing with my sister?”
Lady Charlotte Dunlevee stared across the dance floor, peering around the wide shoulders of a gentleman who had sought her as a dance partner. With Mama and Papa confined in the country, Char chaperoned her sisters to another ball, all in hopes of finding them suitable matches. With sisters like Kat, Prim and Jenny, she had to be very careful.
It was a tedious job. The same sort of men were considered eligible when she’d had her come out. Maybe it was even the same men.
To measure compatibility by title and wealth? One might as well toss darts at a board. Maybe she was wrong. Love matches were no less fraught with incompatibility and argument. Only it hurt worse.
She wanted her sisters to be happy, in an honest, hopeful way. Not with the cold reality so prevalent in London society.
Mr. Hibbert, her would-be dance partner, peered toward the man in question. “I say, isn’t that one of the Forresters? I think he is the one who fancies himself a world traveler. I’ve always thought him a bit of a snob.”
“Joshua Forrester,” Char said in a near whisper. “Thank you and good evening, Mr. Hibbert, but I see my aunt and I would have a word.”
Char gripped her skirt and moved amongst the crowd toward her aunt. A Forrester? Even her own mother could not have foreseen such a coupe. But Kat? No. She was too vivacious, Jenny too quiet. But Prim? She would be perfect for the third son and brother of a duke.
Naturally, there had been dreams of such a match, but the Taylors were only large land owners. They had no title, no blue blood, no real hopes of marrying into such a distinguished family, even though they had been neighbors for years. Love was the only thing that might precipitate such a match, but she didn’t see how that was possible.
She must try, though.
When she reached her sisters, Prim and Jenny were whispering to each other behind an ivory fan. Her aunt was gossiping with the Dowager Duchess of Sterling, Mr. Forrester’s mother. Such opportunities must be taken advantage of.
Prim saw her first and reached for her hand. “Did you see who’s dancing with Kat?” she asked.
“He’s asked each of us to dance.” Jenny was the youngest, all of seventeen, and showed her immaturity with the slight squeal of her voice.
“Don’t talk his head off. Don’t leer. Don’t be anything but charming, intelligent young ladies,” Char said.
“He was very nice,” Prim said.
“Oh, and isn’t he glorious?” Kat said.
Other than Char’s first cursory glance, she hadn’t really noticed him except for his height, which all the Forresters boasted.
“He’s in public, he must be nice. But you, Prim, you must be next to dance with him and you must remind him he needs a wife.”
“And how am I to do that? I’ll be lucky not to trip over my own shoes.”
“Be yourself.”
Char understood Prim’s anxiety, and she wished Mama was present to direct this opportunity. Mama had more practice and was certainly better at scheming. Char glanced toward Kat to see her laughing, mouth open. Oh lud, what was she saying to the man?
And what was Char doing? Was she becoming as calculating and manipulative as any ton matron? She felt giddy with possibilities, not at all like her thoughtful self.
As the dance drew to a close, Char glanced around to see that several young ladies and their mothers had drawn to the edge of the dance floor. Joshua Forrester attracted a crowd, like bees to honey.
But he was with Kat, which meant he would find them. Or his mother.
When the orchestra completed the set, the two small groups came together, opening as Mr. Forrester returned Kat to the safety of her family.
“You don’t seem to have lost your step,” his mother said.
“They are always opportunities to dance, no matter where in the world one finds oneself. And you, Miss Taylor, are a most adept partner.”
“Thank you,” Kat said.