Page 102 of A Dangerous Engagement

More people began to crowd in for refreshments before the dancing began. Felicity and Mr.McDowell were practically forced from the room and toward the ballroom.

When the music began for the first dance, Mr.McDowell escorted Felicity to the dance floor. How it made her heart expand to see him across from her, smiling, his gaze never wavering, intent on her. Every time his hand touched hers, her heart beat a little faster.

The second dance began just as enjoyably—even more so, since the pace was slower. He held her hand longer than necessary as they moved side by side and then faced each other to wait for their next turn. Was she imagining that he was looking at her in a way that was different than the way he looked at everyone else? Did she imagine that there was a questioning in his eyes, as if he was searching for something?

When the first two dances were over, a man came over to speak to Mr.McDowell. Felicity stood nearby, pretending to watch the dancers, but she was actually looking at Mr.McDowell, watching how he interacted with his friend, trying to imagine what he was saying and thinking as he spoke.

Truly, she was being ridiculous.

She moved away, and someone touched her arm from behind. She turned and found a woman smiling at her.

“Miss Felicity Mayson? You may not remember me, but I am Mrs.Ferguson. Your mother and I are well acquainted. I was just wondering about things I have been reading and hearing, some of it concerning you. You don’t mind if I ask, do you?”

“I don’t suppose—”

“Well, some say you are engaged to a Mr.Ratfield or Ratcliffe, whom you met at Lady Blackstone’s home in Margate, and that you were all plotting to revolt against the government.”

“Is that what some say, Mrs.Ferguson? What else do some say?”

“Oh, that Lady Blackstone and Mr.Ratcliffe or Rat-something fled the country together, that they are joining with the Jacobins in France.”

“That sounds like gossip to me, Mrs.Ferguson. And if Iwereengaged to a Mr.Rat-something, I would be with him now. But I am not.”

“What say you in reply to what these people are saying?”

“I say nothing.”

“I hope I have not given offense.”

“Not at all, but I am wanted elsewhere. Please excuse me.” Felicity was already walking away, praying desperately she would see Julia or Leorah or—

“Miss Mayson? Are you well?”

She turned. Mr.McDowell was standing behind her.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled, quite forgetting everything.

“Will you dance with me?”

She took his arm and he led her to the floor.

And so it went the rest of the night. In fact, other than Felicity, Mr.McDowell danced with no one else except Leorah once and his own mother once. He introduced Felicity to his mother, his father, and one brother, who were all in attendance. The rest of the night she was in conversation with his family members or him, but they were never alone.

Before she knew it, the night was over, and she was standing with her family, waiting for their carriage. Mr.McDowell joined them, bidding a good night to her parents and each of her brothers and sisters.

He came to Felicity last. “May I call on you tomorrow?” He leaned so close to her that no one could infer that he meant anyone else.

“I shall be home.”

Philip walked the short distance to the Mayson home as soon as it was socially acceptable to make a call. When he was shown into the parlor, he could not have been more thrilled to find Miss Mayson alone.

“Let my mother know Mr.McDowell is here,” she said to the servant.

But as soon as the servant was gone, Philip shut the door.

Her eyes were round as she stared at him.

“I have some things I must say to you, Miss Mayson.”