There was a hardness in his voice when he mentioned his lordship. Abigail tried to read his face and failed miserably. She’d never been much good at knowing what people were thinking.
Lord Donovan was a handsome enough man. He was around thirty, by Abigail’s estimation – although she wasn’t much good at guessing ages either – and had good hair and a pleasant face. He dressed in a fairly ordinary evening suit, nothing spectacular. It hung oddly on him, and she found herself comparing it to Lord Alexander’s glittering blue and gold waistcoat.
Stop it!She scolded herself.Here a nice,eligibleman is talking to you, and all you can do is think about some charming rogue who spoke to you briefly.
She swallowed hard, forcibly pushing all thoughts of Lord Alexander – who, she was willing to bet, was not thinking ofher– from her mind.
Lord Donovan was looking at her strangely, head tilted to one side.
“I haven’t seen that hairstyle tonight, I think.”
Blood rushed to Abigail’s face. She hadn’t considered that a gentleman might know things abouthairstyles.
“Oh? Is it unfashionable? I really don’t know about these things.”
He laughed again, a light, airy sort of laugh that immediately put Abigail at ease.
“It wasn’t a judgement; I can assure you. I like to see things that are different. That hairstyle is very becoming, and I often find it suits me better to go against fashion than along with it. One stands out more.”
As if to contradict his point – or perhaps strengthen it – Lord Donovan straightened his plain black suit jacket, identical to most of the other jackets in the room.
Well, it’s probably best to dress conservatively in a place like this,Abigail thought.Out of respect for one’s hosts.
“Are you dancing tonight, Miss Atwater?” Lord Donovan asked suddenly. Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of Aunt Florence half-turning their way as if to listen. Lord Donovan had not, as yet, asked her to dance.
“I am,” Abigail managed. Butterflies fluttered inside her. Was this really happening? Was a nice, eligible lord about to ask her to dance?
“May I see your dance card?”
She wordlessly held out her wrist. “Only two names on there,” she answered, since it felt like she should say something.
Lord Donovan’s gaze flicked down the list of names, almost as if he were looking for something. He pursed his lips.
“Only two? What a pity. Can I tempt you to stand up with me, Miss Atwater?”
Aunt Florence had ended her conversation altogether and was turning towards them now. She said nothing, but when Abigail glanced questioningly at her aunt, she smiled encouragingly and nodded.
Don’t be too eager,Abigail admonished herself.
“I would like that, thank you.”
Lord Donovan smiled and scribbled his name on the dance card. In the background, the music had paused, and the musicians were getting ready to play in earnest. Couples were gathering on the dance floor, and it struck Abigail that the dancing was about to begin.
It was thrilling to think that at least three gentlemen would come and claim her for dances throughout the night. Before, Abigail could easily go an entire ball without dancing once.
“I noticed that you don’t have a partner for the very first dance,” Lord Donovan said, smiling. “I took the liberty of putting my name down.”
“Oh,” Abigail managed, feeling breathless.
He extended a hand. “Shall we?”
She took it. “It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter Seven
He shouldn’t have brought Hamish.
The guilty knowledge throbbed at the back of Alexander’s mind, and he cursed himself and his friend in equal measure.
