“Please,” Emma encouraged.
“Edward Worthington, the Marquess of Amesbury. May I present, Miss Emma Hamilton.”
The marquess, who had bowed perfectly straight at the waist, rose and smiled. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hamilton.” Amesbury glanced at Myles, then back to her. “I feel as though I know you already, what with all that my friends have told me about you and your circumstances.”
She curtsied. “My lord.” Lord Amesbury was as handsome as her duke.
She froze. Her duke? Since when had I thought of him as my duke? No time to contemplate that at the moment.
“Lady Bella.” Lord Amesbury bowed, then turned to Amelia. “Lady Amelia.” Both sisters curtsied.
“Lord Amesbury,” they said simultaneously.
Emma watched Myles greet Bella and prayed he saw the longing in her eyes. Truly they would make a spectacular couple.
“I beg your leave, ladies.” Amesbury bowed, looking suddenly distressed.
Myles did the same. “I must leave as well.”
Bella huffed as the men walked away. “Myles does not even know I exist. Why, I could undress down to my chemise and he would not even bat an eye.”
“Bella,” her sister scolded, “where do you come up with such shocking things to say?” Then Amelia softened her voice. “Myles does know you exist. I’m sure he does. But I think he looks at us like younger sisters.”
“I don’t want to be his sister,” Bella huffed. “He already has five of them. I want to be his wife.”
The other two looked around uneasily, worried Bella’s proclamation had been overheard.
“Shhh, people are looking,” Amelia whispered. “Mother will feign a headache and make us leave early if we make a scene. Then we will be the topic of all the gossip rags tomorrow.”
Emma interrupted, “Who is this vision hurrying toward us?”
“That would be Lady Elizabeth Duncan, Amesbury’s betrothed,” Amelia answered.
“Why would he leave in such haste then?” Emma raised a silent brow. “Ohhh, he saw her coming. But she is lovely. Why—”
“Lady Beth,” Amelia said as she grasped both of Lady Beth’s hands in hers. “You look lovely. How are your wedding plans coming along?”
Emma could only come up with the word anguish to describe the look that crossed Lady Beth’s beautiful face.
Emma would give anything to have Lady Beth’s dark mahogany hair and dreamy brown eyes…with their hint of amber gleaming within. There was nothing unusual about Emma’s blond hair or her blue eyes. Lady Beth looked exotic and, at the moment, she also looked sad. Emma made a mental note to be friendly with her.
Lady Beth bobbed a quick curtsy and smiled quietly. “Our plans are coming along nicely. Mama is enjoying herself immensely. Thank you for asking, Amelia. Although I might say plans would be going along more splendidly if my fiancé would stop hiding from me. Oh, my.”
She tugged her hands free from Amelia’s, covered her mouth, and blushed a deep pink.
“I did not just say that, did I? Please forgive my impertinence.” Lady Beth looked at Emma, her eyes wide with embarrassment.
“Where are my manners?” Amelia scolded herself. “Lady Beth, this is Miss Emma Hamilton, from America. Her father passed, and she is Wentworth’s ward.”
Lady Beth and Emma both curtsied. “Miss Emma, on the occasions that Amesbury acknowledged me and we chatted, he told me about you. Welcome to England. I hope we can become friends.”
“Indeed, I would like that.” Emma smiled warmly, wondering how Amesbury had known about her. “I just had the privilege of meeting your betrothed, and he seems nice.”
“Thank you… Oh, no.” Beth paused with panic. “The music is beginning. Do you think he will dance with me?”
“He must.” Emma looked pleadingly at her two newly acquired sisters. “Surely he must, right?”
“Yes, he must,” Bella and Amelia agreed.
***
Thomas watched Emma and his sisters from across the crowded ballroom as they conversed with Lady Beth. His chest swelled with pride. As far as he could tell, Emma, Amelia, and Bella were the comeliest debutantes at the ball. Of course, Lady Beth was also attractive, but she was spoken for.
Amesbury was a fortunate man, although he did not think so now. Thomas thought he would soon enough, on their wedding night and every day and year thereafter.
The orchestra struck the opening chord of the first set of the evening, and young gentlemen tripped over each other to request a dance from the eligible ladies. Thomas’s legs began moving across the room toward Emma. Part way his ears recognized a quadrille, and he headed over to the punch table instead.