Page 46 of To Winter at Wildsyde

“I’m so glad Prue married your brother.”

“Me too,” Helena agree solemnly, though her eyes were dancing with mirth. “It’s so much more fun to be wicked when one has a partner in crime.”

They continued their turn about the ballroom and Minerva expounded on all the many and various reasons Mr de Beauvoir had captured her heart. Helena listened with all the sympathy and understanding Minerva could have hoped for, and then she took her turn to listen to Helena’s plans for bringing Mr Knight to heel.

“Oh, look,” Helena said, stopping dead and squeezing Minerva’s arm.

Minerva followed her gaze to the ballroom, to where Matilda was dancing with Mr Burton.

“Oh, goodness. I didn’t realise he was back.”

“Do you think she’s pleased to see him?”

Minerva considered them, registering the smile on Matilda’s face and the possessive gleam in Mr Burton’s eye. On the surface they looked a happy and handsome couple, but on closer inspection, Minerva thought Tilda’s shoulders appeared stiff and her smile polite rather than warm.

“Not entirely, no,” she said, wondering what Matilda would do about Mr Burton.

They both looked around as a whisper of voices rose, the kind that accompanied the entry of an important guest. Whoever it was had arrived late. As Minerva looked up the stir was easily explained.

“Well, that won’t make her evening any easier, that’s for certain.”

Helena’s tone was dry as they watched the Marquess of Montagu enter the ballroom.

“Oh, wait until he sees them,” Minerva whispered, clinging tight to Helena’s arm, holding her breath.

Montagu’s cool gaze swept the room, his expression utterly bored. It did not change, nor pause when it reached Matilda and Mr Burton but swept on, and then he turned to greet his hostess as Prue gave him an icy reception.

“She’s taken to being a duchess remarkably well.”

Helena smirked as Prue was outrageously formal and precise in her greeting, every nuance reminding Montagu she outranked him. Of course, they both knew she did it because she wanted to protect Matilda, and not because she had a snobbish bone in her body.

“She was furious at having to invite him,” Helena observed.

“Why did she?”

“Robert said she must,” Helena replied with a shrug. “Some business interest or other in common, I think. He’s not a man one slights and gets away with it.”

“But your brother is a duke,” Minerva protested. “Surely…?”

Helena returned a pitying look. “Darling, Montagu is powerful. It doesn’t matter if his title is a lesser one. His breeding is beyond reproach and reinforced with money and more influence than anyone dares to consider. He’s a collector of information, he knows things no one else knows. They say even Prinny is afraid of him.”

Minerva considered the austere figure, standing alone now as he surveyed the teeming ballroom and shivered. “Poor Matilda.”

Helena nodded. “Indeed.”

***

Matilda curtseyed as the music ended and Mr Burton gave her a warm smile. “It is so good to see you again, though sadly I am only in town for a week as I promised my family I would return for the Christmas holidays. I’ve been frustrated by a deal of ill luck of late, orders that go astray and problems that keep springing up on all sides.” He frowned, his expression puzzled and then looked up and shook his head. “Plus some new business that has kept me very busy, but looks extremely promising. It’s kept me away from town far longer than I had planned, though. I will be back in the new year, however. I have many interests here to hold my attention and….” He stopped and gave her a very direct look. “And plans I hope to see come to fruition.”

“I am sure we will all be glad of your company, Mr Burton,” Matilda said carefully, ignoring the obvious implication of his words and allowing him to guide her off the dance floor.

She cast him a sideways glance. He’d been everything that was charming and solicitous this evening, reminding her of all the reasons she’d considered his interest in her appealing. The possessive dog with a bone attitude she’d been uncomfortably aware of during the house party at Lord St Clair’s was noticeably absent, so much so that she wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Perhaps I might be permitted to call on you next week?” he asked, such boyish enthusiasm in his eyes that Matilda could not help but return a smile.

“I shall be glad to see you,” she replied, still uncertain whether or not she meant it, but knowing she must give him the chance.

It wasn’t as if she had suitors queuing up for her hand.