Page 3 of The Cornish Bride

Chapter Two

Captain Featherstone held out a gloved hand to Ysella, and she slipped her own into it, feeling the warmth of his body through the two thin layers of fabric. Her gut twisted as the idea of touching skin to skin came to her, and the hot color in her cheeks did nothing to dissipate. “Thank you, Captain Featherstone,” she managed to articulate, as he led her out onto the dance floor.

A good score of couples were already out there, ready for the next dance, but plenty of room remained. As the musicians struck up their lively music again, Captain Featherstone led her to join a group of three other couples, two of whose number he appeared to know—both young gentlemen in similar regimentals to his who seemed pleased to see him.

“Featherstone, damn me if you haven’t cornered the prettiest girl in the room again.”

“Why do you have all the luck?”

Were they talking about her? Ysella kept her eyes down, overcome by unaccustomed shyness. Not at all like her.

She and the captain took their places as the third couple making the square for the cotillion, with the captain to Ysella’s left. The first bars of the change were played and all eight dancers joined hands and started to skip to the right. Ysella found herself holding hands with the captain, a fact unlikely to aid her equilibrium. Soon the couples were dancing the figures, their feet performing the elegant skipping steps Ysella had learned as a young girl and so recently taught to Morvoren. No time to exchange conversation with the captain, even if she could think of anything to say.

However, she forgot about the disturbing touch of the captain’s warm hands as she settled into enjoying the dance, until, that was, the next figure involved him putting his arm across her back and holding her disquietingly close. More heat flushed through her body and she quite forgot her steps, stumbling like a beginner. His hold on her tightened and, so close were they, she felt the chuckle that ran through his body against her own. What a delightful but disturbing sensation. She was going to need her fan.

“Miss Carlyon, you need not worry for I have you safe.” The first words he’d spoken since they took to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Ysella managed, flustered by the touch of his silk coat along the exposed skin of her shoulders. “I’m not usually so flat-footed. Only this is the first proper ball I’ve been to since I came out.” She peeped up at him. “I’ve been to a few smaller dances, and to soirées and routs, but not to a ball as big as this one.”

He smiled down at her. “I do seem to have this effect upon young ladies, although I can’t for the life of me see why. I find myself quite unnerved to be dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room, just as Fotheringay said.”

More confident now, and emboldened by his display of fellow feeling and flattery, to which, of course, she was susceptible, Ysella dimpled up at him. “Really? Why, Captain Featherstone, I believe you are being too modest.” Best to ignore the flattery, as what was she supposed to say to that? She didn’t want to be like those awful simpering girls she’d seen when she came in. Perish the thought that she should simper, something she’d always scorned. Or hide behind a fan.

His laugh rumbled again, and they separated while the other pair of couples danced. When they came back together again, he pulled her in yet a little tighter. “You must be aware of the effect you yourself have on a gentleman’s heart? This gentleman’s heart in particular. I find you mesmerizing.”

This was just like one of the books she’d read and that Mama would have confiscated had she known. A fairytale story of a handsome young man smitten at first sight by his lady love. Did fairy stories really come true like this? The sensation of having gone one up on dowdy Charlotte assailed Ysella, and she had the grace to feel a hint of guilt, due, no doubt, to their newfound truce.

It was their turn to dance again. Ysella remembered to skip correctly this time. How awful would it be if she were to trample on his foot as she’d done so many times when practicing with Sam, back home at Ormonde? She’d never forgive herself. Sam had always claimed not to have minded, and Ysella had on occasion done it on purpose to see how far she could goad him. It had been impossible, and Sam had merely smiled and bowed to her, the epitome of politesse, even though he was only the land agent.

Over by the open French doors, Charlotte was standing, watching her beside Mama and Cousin Marianne, who both held small glass cups of lemonade. For some reason all three of them had forbidding expressions on their faces.

“I’ve danced with so few young men,” Ysella said, determined to ignore her parent’s apparent approbation, secure in the knowledge that her mother could hardly step onto the dance floor and prise her from the captain’s grip. “I have no way of knowing what effect I might be having.”

The captain swung her around as required by the dance, twirling her so her skirts, of creamy damask, spun out around her. “Then I shall tell you.” He twirled her again, then caught her as they skipped in time with the other couples. “From the moment I spied you across the ballroom, you set my heart pounding with your beauty. And when I learned you were my dear friend Fitz’s cousin, I had to secure an introduction and a dance with you.” He smiled a seductive smile, his eyes full of something Ysella had never seen before and which she suspected might be improper. “You are the belle of the ball, Miss Carlyon, if not of the season.”

A warm glow encompassed Ysella’s heart, thoughts of his impropriety flown. He thought her beautiful. Not that she didn’t already know she was pretty, for she closely resembled Mama and everyone called her a beauty. But… to have the most handsome man at the ball, who must be desired by all the young ladies present, declare her to be the belle of the ball, made her almost giddy with delight. She gazed up into his chocolate brown eyes and was lost.

The dance came to an end all too soon, but the captain didn’t return her to her mother, whom he must have seen as well as she had. Instead, he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and promenaded the perimeter of the dance floor, nodding to and greeting people he knew. The two young officers who’d danced the cotillion with them approached, minus their partners, eager looks on their young faces.

The captain halted, if with a touch of reluctance, but manners dictated that you couldn’t ignore the approach of acquaintances. Ysella bestowed a smile upon the two young men.

“I say, Featherstone,” the first young man, who could only have been a year or two older than Ysella herself, began. “Introduce us to your lovely companion, if you dare, so we too can mark her card.”

The second man, who must have been all of thirty, so really old, like Kit and Sam, made a smart bow to Ysella. “I believe I’m acquainted with your brother, Viscount Ormonde, Miss Carlyon.”

Ysella unhooked her hand from the captain’s arm and deployed her fan, not to peek from behind but because she had an inkling her face might be quite flushed. And not just from the dance. “It’s Major Hamilton, isn’t it?”

The major nodded, smiling, his gaze fixed on her face. “I’m surprised you remember me. Last time I was at Ormonde, you were still a chit in the schoolroom.”

Recovering her composure a little now she wasn’t quite so close to Captain Featherstone, Ysella dimpled at him. “Of course I remember you. You may yourself have left the schoolroom well behind, Major, but rest assured that whatever goes on in a house is known within its confines almost the moment it happens. Only I think when you called before you were only a lowly lieutenant, were you not?”

“I say, you two,” put in the younger man. “You rather have the advantage of me, and I’d like a proper introduction if you don’t mind.”

Captain Featherstone sighed and turned to Ysella again. “Allow me to introduce you, Miss Carlyon, to Lieutenant Roderick Chatham.”

Lieutenant Chatham made a smart bow to Ysella. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Carlyon. Might I trouble you to put my name on your dance card? I couldn’t help but admire the grace with which you were dancing with Featherstone.”

Ysella suppressed a giggle. What a flatterer. She had not been dancing well, what with the distraction of the captain’s touch, but nevertheless, she wasn’t about to argue with the young man. She brought out her dance card and pencil and smiled. “You may indeed.”