But he didn’t dare.
Not yet. She was not at all blind and, intellectually at least, nowhere near innocent. Stealing a real kiss without some sound external reason to act as an excuse would alert her to his change of direction, and like an untamed filly, she would spook and shy away.
Despite the subtle yet real changes between them—in the ballrooms as well as in venues such as this—and, he hoped, in her view of them and, thus, in the potential for making their engagement real, he seriously doubted she was yet ready to hear the proposition he was determined to lay before her.
He had to play a careful game, advancing step by inexorable step without her noticing how close he was getting, and how much closer she was getting to him, physically as well as emotionally. Unfortunately, as they ambled down the avenue, with the sunshine warm upon them and the bucolic surroundings creating a landscape of color and movement, she responded to that, her pleasure clear in her expression, and forcing himself to toe the line he knew he must grew more difficult with every step.
On reaching the end of the avenue, he turned them onto the path that would lead them back to the lawns and the other guests.
Stacie glanced at him, faintly surprised, for she’d realized some time ago that he liked crowds even less than she did. But then the lawns opened before them, and the first person her eyes fell on was a tall, willowy, blond-haired lady, stylishly gowned and exuding an aura of self-confidence that, combined with her cool beauty, was arresting. Facing to their right, the lady was standing with a circle of others with whom she was conversing.
The group were the nearest knot of guests; Stacie sensed Frederick hesitate and looked up to see him contemplating the group, as if taking stock, then smoothly, he looped her arm in his, and together, he and she strolled toward the group.
Several in the circle saw them coming; their faces lit, and they eagerly shuffled to make space for Stacie and Frederick to join them.
The lovely lady turned, saw Frederick, and smiled.
The quality of that smile warned Stacie as to whom, exactly, the willowy lady was. She also realized she’d met the woman previously, over the years at various ton functions.
At his urbane best, Frederick nodded to the group, all of whom were known to Stacie. He and she exchanged the usual greetings until, at last, they reached the beautiful blonde.
Stacie smiled easily. “I believe we’ve met before.”
The lady returned her smile with what appeared to be genuine interest and dipped in a regulation curtsy. “Indeed, Lady Eustacia, but it was years ago. I’m Lady Halbertson. I’m delighted to meet you.”
“And I you, Lady Halbertson.” Politely, Stacie held out her hand.
Frances Halbertson lightly touched fingers, and Stacie told herself not to leap to judgment.
She shot a swift glance at Frederick, but detected not the slightest sign of any anticipation of awkwardness in his perennially coolly arrogant demeanor. If she hadn’t grown up in her mother’s household, keeping her own awareness of the erstwhile connection between him and Lady Halbertson from her expression would have been impossible. As it was, she pretended to listen to the chatter of the others in the group, noting that none seemed aware of any source of potential friction.
Then one of the group made a comment about Kean’s performance as Hamlet at Drury Lane.
“Magnificent!” Lord Jeffries boomed in reply. “I would say his Hamlet outstrips even his father’s.” His lordship focused on Stacie. “Saw you in Albury’s box that night, Lady Eustacia—what did you think of Kean, heh?”
She could hardly say that she’d been too caught up in thinking of other things and had barely noticed the great actor. “I expect his delivery might best be described as outstanding. It patently satisfied the audience.”
“I’m not at all certain,” Mrs. Jellicoe sapiently remarked, “that the majority of the audience were watching the stage.”
Others chimed in with their views, some chiding, others agreeing, and a lengthy discussion on the true role of the theater in the lives of the haut ton ensued.
Throughout, Stacie kept a surreptitious eye on Lady Halbertson, but although her ladyship stood on Frederick’s other side, she never once attempted to capture his gaze or even his attention.
Yet the pair had been lovers; of that, Stacie was now absolutely certain.
Eventually, she and Frederick moved on; again, Stacie watched like a hawk, but Frederick didn’t so much as glance back at her ladyship, and Lady Halbertson’s gaze didn’t follow him.
Instead, her ladyship watched Stacie as she and Frederick strolled about the knots of guests.
That, Stacie had to admit, was a trifle unsettling, even if she’d sensed no overt jealousy or, indeed, any negative sentiment from Lady Halbertson. To be observed in that manner by one’s intended’s recently retired mistress was off-putting; she couldn’t imagine what was going through Frances Halbertson’s head.
Clearly, from Frederick’s perspective—and apparently, that of the members of the ton who knew of it—the affair was over and done with. Given both he and her ladyship belonged to the very upper strata of society, as did Stacie, crossing each other’s paths at events such as this was impossible to avoid.
Stacie told herself that what lay—or had lain—between her ladyshi
p and Frederick was none of her business, yet she couldn’t help thinking that if she was standing in Lady Halbertson’s pumps, she might just resent the lady, not that much younger and of similar birth, who, shortly after Frederick had broken off their liaison—and she had little doubt it had been he who had ended it—had caught his eye to the point of him offering marriage.
She cut a glance at Frederick’s face, but his debonair mask was firmly in place, and nothing of his thoughts, much less his feelings, showed.