Page 94 of Appointment in Bath

“Camden Place. Of course.” Another glimpse of a smile. Had Ivo not been so calm and collected, she might have thought him as foolishly smitten as she was. “How stupid of me.”

Lord Beaumont’s hand fell back to his side unaccepted. He addressed Ivo with barely disguised irritation. “I beg your pardon, sir. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Meg hastened to introduce them. “Lord Beaumont, m-may I present Mr. Ivo Beresford, son of the Earl of Allendale. He is our neighbor in Somersetshire. Mr. Beresford, B-Baron Beaumont of Northumberland.”

The gentlemen exchanged rigidly polite greetings. All the while, Ivo’s gaze kept returning to Meg’s and hers to his.

Music swelled all around them.

“The waltz, Miss Burton-Smythe,” Lord Beaumont reminded.

“Ah yes, the waltz.” Ivo’s expression became gravely serious as he turned to her father. “May I beg permission to dance with your daughter, sir?”

Sir Frederick looked to Meg. “Well, my dear? What say you?”

Meg could hardly breathe for the butterflies swarming in her stomach. She somehow managed an infinitesimal nod.

Lord Beaumont drew himself up with offended dignity. Bowing to Sir Frederick, he stalked off to find himself another partner for the dance.

Meg’s father’s face bore a look of resignation. This wasn’t what he wished for her. But he made no more objections. How could he? He knew what it was to be denied the person one wanted. The loss of Margaret Honeywell had blighted his life. Whatever he felt for the Beresfords now, it seemed that he’d ultimately decided to spare Meg that pain.

“Permission granted,” he said to Ivo. “Providing you return her to me directly the waltz is over.”

“I shall.” Ivo offered Meg his hand. “Will you do me the honor, Miss Burton-Smythe?”

“Yes. I will.” Smiling shyly, Meg slipped her hand into his.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ivo led Meg out onto the ballroom floor. Her gown was a glorious confection of rose-pink silk, with short, tight sleeves that dropped down to reveal her creamy shoulders, and skirts trimmed in beaded lace and pink ribbon bows. A dress as sweet as it was alluring.

He’d never seen her in pink before.

“You look outrageously pretty this evening,” he said as he circled her waist with his arm. “Have I mentioned that yet?”

The music for the waltz grew louder as all the musicians joined in accompaniment. Couples gathered around Meg and Ivo on the floor.

Meg didn’t appear to notice them, not even when the skirts of another lady’s gown brushed hers. She remained staring up at him, lips half parted, plainly still recovering from the shock she’d received at seeing him there.

She slowly set a gloved hand on his shoulder. “What are you d-doing here, Ivo?”

“Waltzing with you.” He guided her into the first turn. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes. But…I don’t m-mean now, I m-meant—”

“I know what you meant,” he said gruffly. He gazed down at her as they danced. They had no real privacy to speak of. Not even the music could fully disguise their conversation. He nevertheless couldn’t stop himself from asking the question that had been plaguing him since he’d left Beasley Park a week ago. “Why did you run, Meg?”

“I-I didn’t.”

“You did. Your father was obliged to pursue you, wasn’t he? And now I find you here, looking breathtaking, and being courted by some dull dog with awful side-whiskers—”

An unwilling smile quivered at her lips. “Oh, Ivo—”

“Who is he to you, this Baron Beaumont person.”

“He’s n-no one to me,” she said.

Ivo didn’t trouble to disguise his relief. Jealousy was a new emotion for him. One he’d experienced at full force when he’d arrived in the ballroom to discover Meg preparing to dance with another man. “I’m gratified to hear it. I wouldn’t like to have to challenge the fellow to a duel over your hand.”