Page 36 of A Single Obsession

By this time, the set was forming, and they took their places. They exchanged a few words during their dances, but the conversation was light, and he did not flirt with her again.

Eliza could not decide whether or not she was sorry.

Beau returned Eliza to her sister and headed for the door of the ballroom. He needed to escape—from what, he wasn’t sure.

What had just happened to him? Had he been about to kiss Eliza? His nerves must have addled his brain.

Half-way across the room, his mother interrupted his path—accompanied by Lady Whitlow and her dreaded daughter. Drat. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he had not seen the ambush waiting for him. There seemed no alternative to asking Miss Whitlow to stand up with him again.

During the dance, he tried not to watch Eliza, but found his eyes repeatedly drawn in her direction. Her partner gazed at her, as if he was moonstruck, and Beau fought against the desire to stop him forcibly from focusing on her lips.

Alarmed by the strength of his reaction, he gave his partner his full attention. It was as well she did not require him to make much conversation, or he might have said something unfortunate.

As their dances drew to a close, Beau hastened to return Miss Whitlow to her mother.

“Oh, I feel a little light-headed,” she said, leaning on his arm so heavily he was almost knocked off balance.

He cast her a sideways glance. She didn’t look faint. In fact, she appeared rather red in the face. Perhaps she had overexerted herself in the dance.

Beau stifled a sigh as he realised he could not take that risk. The last thing he needed was to have Miss Whitlow fainting in his arms in the middle of the ballroom.

“Let me help you to a chair,” he said, urging her toward the side of the room, but she dragged on his arm and didn’t move.

“Air. I need air,” she said in a weak voice, accompanied by a pathetic look. “I would hate to make a scene at your mother’s ball.”

Beau could not have agreed more. Regardless of fault, he would get the blame for it, and it would give his parent more ammunition to fire at him about how useless he was.

He knew better than to open the doors that faced the garden and expose the company to a chill, so he led Miss Whitlow into a side chamber which wasn’t being used for the entertainment. He pushed open the window onto the balcony.

“Let me fetch your maid.” He made to leave the room, but Harriet grasped his arm as he went past her.

“Don’t leave me.” Her voice sounded hysterical as tears coursed down her face, not marring her beauty in the slightest.

It was a talent that might have fooled a man without five half-sisters—but he was not that man. He had seen his sisters pull the same stunt to get what they wanted.

Beau was unmoved by a sense of pity, or a need to comfort a woman in distress. His heart beat faster as he saw his danger. He wanted to rip his arm away, but if Miss Whitlow went into hysterics, his mother would be sure to make the most of it. She might even use the incident to push him into marriage.

He shuddered. If he had been in any doubt before, now he was certain. The faintness was a convenient ruse to catch him. It was a trap, and fear of his mother’s displeasure had sent him running straight into it.

How could he have been so gullible? More to the point, how on earth was he going to get out of this unscathed should someone find them alone like this? Particularly if that someone was his mother.

As if in answer to his question, the door—which he had been careful to leave ajar—opened a little further. His stomach clenched in anticipation, but it was Eliza, not his mother, who walked into the room.

Any relief he felt was short-lived.

Her eyes narrowed as they fell on Miss Whitlow, who had not relinquished her grasp on his arm. “I beg your pardon, am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Beau said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “Miss Whitlow feared she was going to faint and asked for some air.”

Eliza stared hard at him, as if assessing the situation, before turning to face his erstwhile partner.

“How unfortunate. What an impossible dilemma for such a chivalrous gentleman as Lord Beaumont—whether to fetch your maid or stay with you, when you might faint at any moment. What a happy chance I arrived when I did, or you could have been stuck here alone for hours, fearing to send his lordship for help lest you swoon while he is gone. But do not worry. I am your salvation. I’ll remain with you whilst his lordship fetches your maid.”

Beau repressed a grin. Eliza had presented Miss Whitlow with a dilemma as impossible as the one the wretched woman had forced on him. She must submit to Eliza’s aid, or be exposed as a liar.

“I would not want to put you to the trouble, Miss Merry. A little air was all I needed. I’m feeling better already.”

Miss Whitlow rose from her chair without relinquishing her hold on Beau’s arm, but he pointedly offered the other to Eliza, flashing her a warm look of gratitude as he did so.