Lord Norwich held out his hands and she took them.
‘You are wrong, Lord Norwich. It was not your title that first brought you to my notice, but your suit of clothes.’
He gave a soundless laugh as they twirled together in a circle. They returned to their own sides of the line and bowed to each other as the music ended.
Lord Norwich took her hand and began leading her back to Mantheria. ‘A word of warning, my dear,’ he whispered in a soft, cold voice. ‘You are not the first woman to set your cap at Lord Cheswick, and nor will you be the last. But he has no need to marry. Do not turn down a real offer for a forlorn hope.’
He let go of her hand and Louisa gave a full-body shiver, despite feeling a little overheated. His words crawled down her spine. Had they been a threat? A warning? Or honest advice? Had she not told herself something similar?
Before she could confide in Mantheria, Sunny appeared at her elbow. ‘This is our set, I believe, Lady Louisa?’
Mantheria blew them a kiss—or perhaps just Sunny. His jaw was tight and his usual smile absent. The set was a waltz (which she could now participate in after receiving Lady Cowper’s permission), and Louisa thought it was like dancing with a stranger. Sunny appeared to be in a grim mood. She wondered if it was his mother’s words about Mantheria or his own misery.
‘My housekeeper always said that misery loves company,’ Louisa said quietly. ‘If you need company in your misery, I am here.’
Sunny took a deep breath and guided them around another couple. ‘I do not want company in my misery. Yet I fear my bloody idiot of a best friend will soon be joining me, because he is too stubborn and stupid to allow himself to be happy.’
Louisa knew that he was speaking of Wick. ‘He’s not coming, is he?’
He huffed, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know. He hates balls. He hates the season. But he came here for you—he even had Mantheria secure you a presentation with the Queen. I have never seen him bestir himself so much for a person who is not part of his family. I had hoped that he had finally forgiven himself for Charlie and Lizzy’s deaths, but the fool seems determined to live in his own personal purgatory.’
His words ought to have stung, but rather they were a balm to her battered heart. She, Louisa Bracken, was not the problem. She was not unworthy of love. Undeserving of happiness. She was none of the awful things her Aunt and Uncle Rockingham had told her that she was as a child and a young woman. And believing those lies was keeping her in her own personal purgatory. She could not save Wick, but she could save herself.
‘I am sorry if I have put Lord Cheswick to so much effort,’ she said, her voice a little shaky. ‘I can only promise that I will not be a burden upon him for much longer.’
The music stopped and Sunny faced her. ‘You were never a burden, Louisa. You are his salvation. If only he is not too blind to see it.’
Louisa did not know what to say, so she didn’t say anything at all.
When Sunny returned her to Mantheria her friend had already lined up several more partners for her: Mr Beesley, Lord Thorley and Mr King. She noticed that Mantheria had not found her a partner for the supper dance.
Mantheria briefly squeezed Louisa’s hand. ‘I am sorry, Louisa. I thought he would be here by now.’
She didn’t need to ask who her friend meant.
She watched Sunny lead Mantheria away and then waltz with her. Their dancing together was so beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes again. She could see that they loved each other. Every movement was a graceful give and take...a stolen happiness that would end with the music.
Then Louisa felt a hand on her lower back and turned to find herself in Wick’s arms. His usually perfectly tamed locks were dishevelled. His cheeks were red and his breath smelled of spirits. His always intricately tied cravat was rumpled. His other hand took hers and he started waltzing with her before they had even reached the dance floor. Over his shoulder, Louisa could see several eyes upon them.
‘Are you intoxicated?’ she asked.
He closed his eyes and then opened them again. ‘Completely foxed.’
‘Should you be dancing?’
‘Probably not,’ he said, pulling her closer to him. ‘Perhaps you could steer?’
Louisa was tired of him toying with her emotions. Pulling her to him and then pushing her away. ‘I am not sailing a boat.’
Wick’s hand pressed into her back until their bodies were touching. He gazed intensely into her eyes. ‘No, you’re my Louisa, with hundreds of sweet freckles, and I want to kiss every single one. I’d start with the one just above the curve of your lips.’
Despite her best intentions, she melted in his arms. His words soothed a thousand of her Aunt Rockingham’s slights about her looks. The spots on her skin weren’t blemishes—they were sweet freckles. She felt her temperature rise at the thought of Wick’s lips on every single one of them.
Then he twirled her around and Louisa quite forgot everyone else. He was uncharacteristically silent, but she didn’t mind. She lost herself in the pleasure of waltzing with the man she loved. In the thrill of his hand on her back. The scent of vanilla and leather that characterised his person. There was nowhere in the world that she’d rather be.
The waltz ended all too soon, and Louisa was afraid that Wick was going to pass her off to another man to dance with.
‘Shall I fetch you a drink?’ he asked.