An Earl’s Broken Heart by Ella Edon
Chapter Seven
Alexander stole a glance at Isabel again. His heart seemed to beat faster whenever their eyes met. She still had an effect on him. That was not sustainable if he was going to mingle in circles such as these. He glanced about the ballroom looking for someone to talk to and take his mind from Isabel.
Almost as though sent from the heavens, a sweet cajoling voice sounded behind him.
“Enjoying yourself?”
He glanced over his shoulder. Miss Hopkins stood with a golden fan in hand, staring an invitation at him. Her older chaperone stood behind her as though waiting for him to make his move. His eyes ran over her in gentle appraisal.
She was by any measure an attractive woman. Full lips, a winning smile, and a touch of carmine at her cheeks that gave her an almost cherubic countenance. She allowed her fan to slowly sweep across her chest drawing attention to her more than ample bosom. Alexander almost laughed. It was difficult to appreciate her beauty when only a few paces away stood Isabel who was every bit as beautiful with a dozen times the allure. Worse still from their earlier interaction, he had determined that there was no spark between them, at least not in comparison to that he felt with Isabel. Isabel needed only to wet her lips to set his heart to racing. Surely one would need that sort of passion in a wife, that sort of spark. All the same, he could not marry Isabel; why not focus his energies on a woman with whom he had some prospect of marriage?
“I am indeed,” he said at last. “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Hopkins?”
“Well, it has been pleasant. I had hoped to be favored with some more stimulating conversation than I have thus far enjoyed.”
Her eyes were a call to engage in the very same stimulating conversation she had claimed to be missing. Alexander was no stranger to flirtation. He was a veteran of two foreign campaigns and in that time, he had met all types of women, many of whom he had engaged in some dalliance or other. He never had trouble beginning a flirtation but the desire to continue it always quickly evaporated. Only with Isabel had he ever found the will to stay the course.
He glanced down at Miss Hopkins and offered his most ingratiating smile. “I will do my best to favor you with some stimulating conversation should you so please, Miss Hopkins. Would you favor me with a dance?”
Alexander had learnt the essentials of dancing from his Great Uncle who had insisted be instructed on account of the fact that every man – in his words – needed to know how to conduct himself appropriately at a ball.
Miss Hopkins’ smile widened, and she clasped her hands about the navel. “I certainly would, my Lord.”
They stepped onto the ballroom floor where dances were taking place in earnest. He took her by the hand, and they began to dance. She was an agreeable dancer; supple, light on her feet, and with no apprehension for sharing the lead.
She stared up at him, leaving no ambiguity about her interest. “Tell me, Lord Carter, about your time at war.”
Alexander’s face darkened. “I am not sure that would be very stimulating conversation, at all.”
She leaned forward. “Did you see death?”
Alexander snorted. It was quite a ridiculous question. Like asking a butcher if they saw meat or a baker if they touched yeast. He had seen death in abundant rolling waves. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been loath to discuss the things he had seen, but such matters needed to be spoken about delicately so as not to unearth some unseen wounds. Miss Hopkins did not seem the delicate type. Indeed, she seemed quite the opposite.
He blinked and looked down at her. “Yes, I did.”
He moved to quickly shift the subject by asking her about where she lived. He was grateful when she immediately dropped her prior line of questioning and began to tell him about the size and splendor of their ancestral home. It wasn’t done in boast but in a way of advertising her inherent worth as the daughter of a very wealthy noble family. After she had given him a rough approximation of her family fortune, she turned to complain at the growing nuisance of pickpocketing and vagrancy swelling in some parts of London, remarking that she was partial to the countryside.
“I am quite fond of the countryside, also.” Alexander said.
She smiled and began to describe in detail their countryside home which she insisted was what such homes ought to be. Alexander played the game with her, sighing and tutting when the cues came, doing everything he needed to keep the conversation brisk and friendly. All the while his mind was elsewhere; in the Lichfield Maze, where he had first tasted Isabel’s lips. How soft they had been. How sweet.
It was no use, so long as she was at the ball. Alexander had no hope of freeing his mind of her. He smiled at Miss Hopkins, who was still talking about one thing or another, and gave a slight nod.
He brought the dance to a halt. “I am afraid I have to attend to some matters that simply refuse to wait. I hope you will favor me with your company when you are next chanced.”
She frowned for a moment but quickly replaced it with a smile. “Of course, my Lord, it has been a great pleasure. Until next time.”
He bowed, she curtseyed, and they parted ways. That was it for his night. He was going home.
* * *
That night, Isabel was unable to sleep properly. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Alexander and his return. His broad shoulders, his masculine profile, and most of all his smile. His smile that seemed a promise of a future she had forced herself to abandon. He dominated her mind even now. She practiced over and over that night, ways in which she could seek Alexander's forgiveness for what she had done. It was too much to presume they could be as they once had been, but perhaps they could find some other avenue of cordiality, where she would not feel so hopelessly apart from him.
The following day, before Isabel could attend the tea party at the Addington’s, she visited her sister, who was hosting a tea party of her own with a few ladies. It was a smaller gathering compared to what the Addington’s planned to host.
Isabel made her way into the house, feeling a bit conscious of herself. For every step she took, it felt as though Alexander was watching her.
The courtyard was filled with a few ladies seated around the table. As Isabel joined them, they all acknowledged her presence.
"Thank you for coming." Elizabeth said, kissing her cheeks.
"I saw him at the ball yesterday…" said a Lady seated opposite Isabel, calling her attention.
Having just arrived, Isabel had to wait a tad to understand what the conversation was about.
"Oh, he is a good age for husband making and quite unattached, it is said. A decorated and established man of honor such as he will not be on the market for long, if I might add." Another Lady said. Everyone burst into giggles.
"Anyone who was not enticed by Lord Carter must be either blind or utterly ignorant to his magnificence. I have asked that my sister attend all the balls. She is quite pretty and should catch the Earl's eye."
“I should like to see him myself. I hear he is of the finest countenance, possessed of a good figure, shapely calves, and very pleasing address.”
“Indeed,” said another woman and they all giggled in chorus.
Isabel could not believe that once again, Alexander was the point of discussion. It was either that fate hated her or it was all just serendipity. Her sister did not turn to look at her during that period of time; rather, she slipped her hand beneath the table and gripped Isabel's hand softly before squeezing. Isabel was thankful for the gesture.
"I guarantee that my niece would be a good fit as well," said another woman.
The ladies chuckled as a playful banter took place. They spoke of Alexander the way one would speak of a house you hoped to acquire or a dress you sought to purchase, appraising him in every regard from his fortune to his fashion. The conversation irked Isabel and what she wanted was to be away from the ladies whilst they discussed such a matter. It was clear that every single Lady in London would have an eye out for Alexander. It made her feel uncomfortable. She was perplexed as to why she felt a slow building irritation when Alexander was spoken of. Perhaps because she knew first-hand just how remarkable a man he was and because she knew he would never be hers. Not after what had passed between them.
The odd feeling she had within her grew as she thought of what might happen at the tea party to be held by Lady Addington at the manor later that afternoon. Perhaps the reason she felt this way was because of the unsettled anger he had towards her. Isabel swallowed. That must be the reason why she was feeling this way. And if she felt this way now, what would happen at the tea party when she would see him discussing with other ladies. The more she thought about it, the greater her fear became. It was her guilt that haunted her. She had already decided that she would make things right with Alexander at the tea party and they would move on in peace. What else could probably go wrong? Nothing.