Waltzing with the Earl
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Catherine Tinley
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19,2K
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25
Prologue
London, 1814
Leaning against a gilded column, the Earl of Shalford coolly observed the revellers at Lady Jersey’s party. The elegant ballroom was thronged with gentlemen and ladies of every age, shape and demeanour, all determined to enjoy the evening. A country dance was in full flow, and the sight of tittering ladies and merry gentlemen leaping and capering around the room seemed, at this moment, the height of absurdity.
‘Adam—so this is where I find you. Ogling the ladies, eh?’
The Earl regarded his younger brother with disfavour. ‘No, I shall leave that to you, Harry. I am leaving.’ He wrenched his long frame upright.
‘So soon? But the night is barely begun—and you are promised to dance the cotillion with Miss Ross.’
The Earl shrugged. ‘I shall apologise—a sudden indisposition, I think.’
‘You are not indisposed—well, not unless one counts this unseemly languor. Come now, Adam, there are lovelies to be danced with, flirtations to be had. You are too staid for your own good!’
‘Not staid—bored. Not one of these ladies has the power to hold my attention. I dance with them, then immediately forget them. I cannot choose between them.’
‘Then do not choose. Simply enjoy the moment. We have been out of mourning for Papa for months, yet still you act as though...’
‘As though I were still mourning him? You need not worry, Harry. Papa is gone. I have accepted it. The Earldom—and all its responsibilities—rests on my shoulders.’
‘It must not be a burden, Adam. You can still enjoy life.’
‘I do, Harry, I do. I just do not enjoy—this.’ He indicated the crowded room. ‘Give me an evening with friends instead—with people I know and wish to talk to.’
‘But your friends are here.’ Harry indicated a corner near the supper room, where a group of young men were indulging in drinking games with Lady Jersey’s potent punch.
‘Perhaps I am not friendly enough tonight. Have a good evening, Harry. Flirt with as many young ladies as you can manage. Keep up the Fanton name.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Adam, this is not good.’
His brother, unheeding, left with a slight wave of his hand. He spoke first to Miss Ross, who looked disappointed, then made his farewell to their hostess, Lady Jersey.
As Adam slipped out of the room, Harry spoke softly, though he knew his brother could not hear. ‘I wish I could lift your spirits, Adam, but if pretty girls and dances can’t do it then how can I?’
