Neville stoodthere in complete shock and utter silence as Lady Henrietta admitted the truth of what she’d done amid an absolutely horrific temper tantrum. The more she spoke, the less he could believe the words coming out of her mouth. Her thought process, her entitlement, her scheming... it was all disgusting.
“I have something to say.” The words came out strangled and hoarse, but Neville drew himself up to his full height and cleared his throat. “And I’d like to address Lady Henrietta first and foremost.”
“Hmm.”
The brat actually preened for a moment, sneering triumphantly at Miss Wingfield. Neville could hardly wait to see Lady Henrietta’s face when he said what he was about to say.
“I must tell you, Lady Henrietta, from the bottom of my heart, that I would never have married you, even if Miss Wingfield and I had continued to be separated by the Count D’Asti, or fate, or whatever else. I would not have married you if you were the last girl on Earth, because you are a selfish, thoughtless, scheming high-in-the-instep cad in female form. Moreover, you are an entitled, temperamental brat, and you wounded an innocent, kind, lovely young woman because she caught my eye. I cannot conceive of how you ever deluded yourself into believing that I would marry you, but know this: you were badly mistaken. Good evening, Lady Henrietta.”
Not only had he disillusioned her of all her hopes, for what she’d said to Susan, but he’d dismissed her as well. Under different circumstances, he would feel terrible for embarrassing Lady Henrietta in such a manner, but after what she’d said and done? She’d earned every single truth he’d just forced her to face.
Lady Henrietta had stilled utterly, her jaw falling open in shock at his words. He waited, and she paled, wavering where she stood, then rushed off, sobbing like a child. Neville did not bother to watch her go – he only had eyes for Miss Wingfield. He turned to her and gently took her hands in his.
“Miss Wingfield—”
“Susan. Please, call me Susan.”
She offered him a nervous, wavering smile, and he stepped closer to her. His heart pounded and his hands shook. He darted a glance over at Edward, who he assumed was there as Susan’s chaperone, and offered him a quick nod before turning his full attention back to the woman he loved.
“Susan.” Her name tasted like honey on Neville’s lips, and he savoured it. “And you must call me Neville. With the obstacles that Lady Henrietta created out of the way, and knowing now that you were never truly betrothed to Lord D’Asti, there are things I feel I must say to you. First, I must tell you that I have hated every moment of being separated from you since the Yuletide Ball. It has been pure torture for me, and I suspect for you as well.”
Susan laughed softly, but nodded her confirmation.
“I loathed being separated from you. I cannot begin to tell you how deeply my heart has ached these months, thinking that I might be betrothed to someone else. It was a nightmare.”
Neville rested his forehead against Susan’s, then, and let the tip of his nose graze against hers.
“I love you, Susan Wingfield. I’ve been hopelessly and madly in love with you since the moment we met. Will you marry me?”
Susan gasped softly, and a breath-taking, serene smile graced her beautiful face.
“Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
Neville reached a hand up and cupped her cheek as he bent to kiss her. He’d been yearning for that moment for so long, had imagined it so many times since their first meeting, and the reality of her soft lips moulded perfectly against his was better than anything he’d ever dreamed.
* * *
Inside,a tearful Lady Henrietta hurried through the ballroom to her mother, trying and failing to stifle the sobs which wracked her as the enormity of what she’d done crashed through her. Hissing whispers followed her across the dance floor.
Everywhere she moved, everywhere she looked, people were whispering and staring at her. She stared at her mother, her expression crumpled with misery, and Lady Middlebrook wrapped her arms around her daughter and rushed her out of Lady Mowbray’s townhouse and into their carriage planning to get her daughter home and into bed.
The carriage could return for her husband and son, for all Lady Middlebrook cared. She just wanted to get her poor Henrietta home, out of the prying eyes of the public. They could work out how they were going to fix this awful mess later.
* * *
Marco Bianchi,the Count D’Asti, now free of his supposed betrothal to Miss Wingfield, was buoyant with the knowledge that he was free to pursue other avenues which were of far greater interest to him, avenues which might offer both love, and a solution to his pressing debts, all at once. He strode, as if pulled by an irresistible invisible thread, over to where Lady Eugenia Calthorpe stood beside Lady Billington.
He extended a hand to the ethereally beautiful blonde with a broad, charming smile.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance with you, Lady Eugenia?”
“I assure you, Lord D’Asti, the pleasure is all mine.”
Lady Eugenia smiled, giving him her hand, and allowing him to lead her out onto the once again crowded dance floor, where a new set was just starting. A frisson of whispers broke out as they began to dance, but Marco ignored them.
Across the room, Lady Henrietta’s elder brother — the Viscount of Greywood, if he was not very much mistaken — glared at Marco so hard and so fiercely that it made him shiver. Marco could not help thinking that the Viscount’s ire certainly didn’t bode well, but he brushed it off. How could he possibly worry while he was enjoying a dance with Lady Eugenia? It simply was not possible. She was a beauty and a delight to converse with, too.
If the Viscount of Greywood intended to make trouble for Marco, well… he would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he fully intended to spend all of his energy focusing on the angelic creature with whom he was dancing.
* * *
After a short whilecollecting themselves out in the garden, Susan, Neville, and Edward finally made their way back inside Lady Mowbray’s ballroom to enjoy what remained of the St. Valentine’s Day Ball with their friends and family.
“If I might have your attention for a moment, I would like to make an announcement!” Neville called out over the murmurs of the crowd, just as the dance set that Eugenia had shared with the Count D’Asti ended. He wanted all the world to know what had just occurred, and preferably before anything else could rise up like a spectre to get in the way of their future happiness. All eyes in the ballroom instantly turned toward them, and an expectant hush, punctuated by just a few whispers here and there, fell over the crowd. “Miss Wingfield has done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife. We are betrothed, and shall be married as soon as the banns have been read!”
Lady Eugenia and the Count D’Asti cheered and applauded from the centre of the dance floor, and the whole room erupted into a barrage of applause, well wishes, and congratulations. Neville took Susan’s hand and led his bride-to-be out onto the dance floor, smiling so hard that he thought his face might split in half, but he couldn’t help it. After despairing for so long, due to Lady Henrietta’s machinations, he was finally happy and intent on enjoying a delightful, hard-won dance with the woman he loved.
The congratulations came non-stop, even as Susan and Neville danced and basked in enjoying each other’s presence without interference from some quarter or another. They smiled and nodded, indulging the members of the ton who engaged them in conversation, but they hovered barely a breath apart from one another for the whole rest of the Ball, unwilling to be separated from one another, ever again.