“And how soon are you planning to buy? I have some fine specimens at present.”
“I am not in any great hurry,” Walter told him, getting the feeling Lord Ferndale would be happy to arrange the whole thing that very minute. “I can come out to your dockyard soon to see what you have, if that is acceptable to you.”
“We can meet tomorrow morning, and I will take you there, though I hope you realize I have more ships than I can show you at the dockyards. Some of them are currently on voyages, but I have all the details about those. I could probably recall some of the information now if you would like to—”
“Tomorrow morning would be ideal, my lord,” he quickly interjected. “I am after all, supposed to hosting this ball. Is nine in the morning too early for you? Shall we meet at your manor or at mine?”
“That is fine. My manor is closer to the dockyard, so it is better to meet there.”
“I will see you then,” he replied.
Seemingly satisfied with the result of the conversation, Walter was relieved when Ferndale finally left, probably to trap someone else into a conversation about ships.
At that moment, the orchestra began to play, and he found himself scanning the room for that blue dress once again. Once he spotted it, he was pleased to note the lady seemed to be alone and heading towards the refreshment tables. He quickly walked over to intercept her.
While he could not be certain the young lady clearly dressed as Amphitrite was Georgiana, it seemed more likely the closer he approached. When he stood in front of her, there was no longer any doubt in his mind of her identity. The only real questions remaining were whether she recognized him and if she would accept his invitation to dance.
Bowing in front of her to get her attention, he tried to quell his nervousness as he asked, “May I have the honor of sharing this set with you?”
He could feel himself holding his breath as he waited for her reply. Even though he had danced with her not too long ago, he deeply wanted the opportunity to dance with her in his arms once again.
***
Georgiana sighed with relief when Ambrose left her side for a moment. Since she had agreed to court him, he had been somewhat annoying. She knew it was only because he was so happy and excited, but he had become a little overbearing.
She walked towards the refreshment table, in part because she wanted something to drink and also because it would give her more time away from Ambrose. Her mind went over some of the annoying things he had said or done since arriving at the ball.
He had remarked how fitting it was that he was Poseidon while she was Amphitrite, Poseidon’s wife. He went so far as to hint that part of her must think they would make a fine couple even then without her having realized it.
As she recalled, the only thing she had been thinking of at the time she had picked his costume was that his eyes were blue and wearing a blue costume would match his eyes.
She sighed as she reached the refreshments and was about to help herself to some punch when a masked gentleman, dressed as Odysseus, approached her, and asked, “May I have the honor of sharing this set with you?”
Hesitating for only a moment, she nodded and put her hand in his. It would keep Ambrose away for a little longer and, perhaps, give her a little time to think.
She did not even pause to consider if she knew the man who was leading her into position on the dance floor. At masquerades like this one, many people mingled and danced without knowing who they were with.
As the dance began, however, he caught her full attention by drawing her close in a familiar way and whispering, “Georgiana?”
Looking up sharply at the eyes of the man she was dancing with, she gasped slightly. “Walter?” she asked, not even noticing she had called him by his first name instead of his title.
The grin which instantly appeared on his face seemed slightly hesitant, but it was genuine. “How did you know it was me?” she asked.
He laughed lightly as he twirled her around for the dance. “Well … I remember you once talked to me about Amphitrite and how fascinated you are by her…” he admitted.
“You remembered that?” she asked incredulously, recalling they had talked about it when they first met. She felt touched he had remembered so small a detail about her.
“Yes, I think I still remember everything about you,” he told her.
The intensity in his eyes made her heart thump in her chest. There was no denying the electric connection between them was still there, even after all that had happened and the two years they had spent apart.
“I doubt that,” she replied, trying to deny both his words and the attraction she felt for him. “After all, I may have changed while you were gone.”
Though she meant her words to be biting, he seemed to brush them off as he replied, “I am capable of getting to know you all over again. Didn’t you say we could be friends? And isn’t that what friends do: get to know each other?”
“Yes…” she was forced to admit.
“I may have changed a little over the last couple of years, as well,” he told her, as the dance drew them close again.
“Oh?” was all she could manage in reply, as she was starting to feel quite frazzled.
She could not scold him for pulling her too close during the dance, because he maintained the polite distance between them. Georgiana tried to ignore the slight feeling of disappointment at the separation, yet, at the same time, she felt they were far too close to each other.
He waited until the dance brought them close again before he replied, “Yes. For example, my favorite author has changed. Is yours still the same?”
“Yes,” she replied, once again feeling how well he knew her. Part of her felt he shouldn’t ask such things, but she reminded herself that it was something any friend would know. “Who is your new favorite author?”
“You told me about Daniel Defoe if you recall. I finally had the time to read two of his works.”
Georgiana could tell he wanted her to ask another question but he did not, and he seemed content merely to dance with her. She couldn’t decide if dancing with nothing to distract her was worse than talking to him, since it gave her nothing to think of but the feel of his hand on her waist.
One thing was certain it was clear he felt the spark between them, as well, and that he longed to rekindle what they once had. However, as their dance ended, she knew what she must do.
“Lord Bartlett,” she began, reminding herself they were not now close, that they couldn’t be close again.
“Yes?” he asked when she paused.
She hated the way his voice sounded hopeful, but forced herself to continue, “I … there is something I feel you should know.”