‘Oh, good,’ Mantheria said. ‘We’ve missed the first quadrille. It’s such a long, slow dance.’
A fair gentleman walked up to them and bowed. He was the same height as Mantheria and had a pleasing countenance, a crooked nose and a winning smile. ‘Lady Glastonbury, may I have the pleasure of dancing the first waltz with you?’
Mantheria offered her hand and the man bowed over it, bringing it to his lips. ‘I would be delighted to dance with you,’ she said. ‘Allow me to present my dear friend, Lady Louisa Bracken. Lady Louisa, this is Lord Sunderland. The best dancer in all of England.’
Louisa tentatively held out her hand and Lord Sunderland took it lightly, bending over it. ‘Bracken? Any relation to Lord Barnabas?’
‘He is my cousin,’ she said, pulling her hand back. ‘The current Earl of Rockingham is my uncle.’
‘You poor thing.’
Louisa felt herself blushing with embarrassment. She had no idea how well her cousin or her uncle fitted into society. Would her connection with them hurt her own social standing?
Mantheria hit Lord Sunderland’s shoulder with her fan and tipped her head towards Louisa.
Blinking, Lord Sunderland cleared his throat. ‘Ah, Lady Louisa...might I reserve the set after next?’
Louisa looked at Wick, who gave her a slight nod. ‘I should be pleased to accept, Your Grace.’
The music ended and the couples on the dance floor began to clap. Lord Sunderland held out his hand to Mantheria, who took it. Leaving Louisa alone with Wick in a room full of people, many of whom were openly staring at her.
Louisa touched the curls at her neck. ‘Is something wrong with my face or my hair?’
Wick tweaked a red curl with two gloved fingers. ‘You look beautiful. They are staring because you are the most arresting woman in the room.’
She couldn’t stop her lips from forming a smile. If she hadn’t been beautiful before, his words would have made her so.
Louisa felt herself beaming at him. ‘Are you sure that they aren’t looking at you? You are devastatingly handsome in evening clothes.’
‘Oh, no!’ Wick said, briefly touching his chest and turning his body towards her. He placed a hand over one side of his face, as if to hide his identity. ‘They’ve spotted me. I am done for.’
‘Who has spotted you?’
‘Lady Ashton and Mrs Nells. Between them they have at least half a dozen daughters they’re desperately trying to fob off on to any unsuspecting gentleman of means.’
She glanced over her shoulder and, sure enough, there were two matrons eyeing Wick as if he were a plum pudding at Christmas. ‘Surely they can’t make you ask their daughters to dance—let alone marry them.’
‘You’d be surprised at how many tender young maidens hurt their ankles when I am near. Or drop their handkerchief or their fan.’
‘Do you pick them up?’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘The maidens or their fans?’
‘Either?’
Wick took her arm and led her in the opposite direction from Lady Ashton and Mrs Nells. ‘Neither. I walk by and pretend not to hear their calls for help. I have no intention of being trapped into marriage any time soon.’
Louisa’s lips had quirked upwards at his jest, but his last words wiped the smile off her face. Wick did not want to get married. Perhaps that was why he refused to be her suitor. Maybe there was nothing too wrong with her after all.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to come up with a suitable sally. ‘Then it appears that you have nothing to fear from being here.’
He shook his head, frowning. ‘You’re wrong. I have walked willingly into the lions’ den. I will not escape without scratches and possibly a bite or two.’
‘If you are to be bitten, I hope that it is at least by a pretty young lady and not by her mama.’
Wick groaned, but there was a smile in his eyes. ‘I told Mantheria how it would be, but she insisted that I accompany you two.’
Her heart sank a little. He didn’t want to be here. With her. She knew it, of course. Yet his words still stung like a wasp’s sting.