Everybody had been mightily relieved to learn Baron Whiteside was recovering from his injuries, though he was still obliged to rely heavily on the aid of a cane. Delighted he’d agreed to attend, Emma fretted. She hadn’t given a thought to the stairs.
“I believe the problem has been solved,” Gabe said with a chuckle when John Springer and Dr. Adrian Henry appeared carrying a wicker chair on which sat Bertrand Coleman.
“You brought your own bearers,” Gabe jested, shaking the baron’s hand.
“Yes,” their guest replied without smiling.
Emma’s heart went out to him. He seemed a shadow of his jovial self. She supposed knowing your own son had tried to murder you would be a source of sorrow for any man. She wondered how he felt about the manner of Arthur’s death, but would never mention it. Was he as relieved as everyone else that Arthur was gone for good? The baroness hadn’t fared so well. She’d collapsed in a dead faint when told the news, and never regained consciousness. She and Arthur were quietly interred together in the family cemetery behind the folly.
“How well you look, Bertrand,” Rebecca gushed, offering her hand as she approached.
Smiling for the first time, the baron extricated himself quickly from the chair and kissed Rebecca’s hand. “Kind of you to say so, m’dear.”
Gabe raised his eyebrows as they watched the two toddle off toward an alcove near the refreshment table. “Interesting!” was all he said.
Next, they greeted Springer and his wife. Emma struggled to keep a straight face when Anthea asked, “Will there be an opportunity to perform this evening?”
Springer rolled his eyes.
“Unfortunately, no,” Emma replied, tempted to address her guest asSilly Goose. “We’ll be showcasing Susan and Griff’s announcement during the intermission, and we wouldn’t want to detract from that, would we?”
Anthea pouted. “I suppose not.”
Thankfully, Springer pulled his wife into the ballroom.
Gabe was already shaking Dr. Henry’s hand when Emma turned her attention back to the queue of guests. “Thank you again for coming so quickly that terrible night, my friend,” he said. “It was a miracle Bertrand didn’t succumb at the quarry while we waited for the carriage from Thicketford Manor.”
“And another miracle you were here to treat him as soon as he arrived,” Emma added.
Adrian nodded in his usual modest way. “I did what I could and it’s mainly thanks to Lady Susan and her fiancé he’s alive at all. I fear the limp and the impaired eyesight might be permanent. And, of course, he’ll never recover from Arthur’s treachery.”
“I believe my mother is doing her best to help him cope,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
“I will.”
Feeling more confident the evening was going to be a success, Emma prepared to greet the next guests in line.
*
Cuddling with Griffin a loveseat in between dance sets, Susan surveyed the happy faces of the guests. “I must congratulate Emma,” she told him. “The musicians have played a wonderful selection, numerous guests have commented on the quality of the refreshments, and this ballroom looks magnificent. It all brings back happy memories.”
He meshed his fingers with hers. “Tell me.”
She was worried he wouldn’t be interested in her childhood reminiscences. “It was so long ago.”
“But I want to know everything about you.”
“My mother loved entertaining. Looking back, I think she was determined to counteract my father’s stern nature. He hated frivolity. I was just a child, but my mother insisted I be allowed to attend the balls for a short time before I was whisked off to bed.”
“Patsy told me she’s only permitted to be present for the grand announcement later,” he said.
“Yes, she’s disgusted about missing the rest of the ball. I expect she’s whining to Miss Ince. That woman has the patience of a saint.”
They shared the humor, then Susan continued. “I’ll always remember the swirl of colors as the ladies danced by gracefully. Mind you, in those days, it was mostly minuets and quadrilles, although there was apparently some gossip about scandalous waltzes at the Farnworth balls.”
She lifted his hand to her cheek. “I never imagined I’d one day find my own perfect dance partner.”
“I’m not much of a dancer,” he protested modestly.