Evelyne entered on Aurelia’s arm. Her sister was stunningly beautiful in a blush-pink gown with golden undertones highlighting her enviable curves. Diamond combs glittered in her curled blonde hair, and her sharp blue eyes twinkled with excitement. She loved this.
Evelyne scanned the crowd in the ballroom, noting ambition and concealed desperation alike. Her observations, however, were cut short by a familiar face gliding through the throng with the confidence of a fox in a henhouse.
Lord Wesley Bavrick. His auburn hair glowed like polished copper, and his perfectly tailored attire did little to hide his flair for dramatic entrances. He wore his grin as if it were armor, a blend of charm and cheek that made him both irritating and entertaining in equal measure.
“Lady Evelyne,” he said as he reached her, executing an exaggerated bow that bordered on theatrical. “I could hardly bear the thought of enjoying myself until I secured the evening’s most enchanting partner for a dance. May I?”
Evelyne smiled. “If I say no, will you sulk in the corner and ruin the mood for everyone else?”
“Without a doubt,” he replied solemnly, though his grin gave him away. He extended his hand, palm up, a silent challenge.
“Well, that simply will not do,” Evelyne said, placing her gloved hand in his. “Lead the way, my lord.”
Wesley guided her onto the dance floor with a grace that, despite herself, Evelyne found surprising. As the music swelled, they fell into the rhythmic steps of the reel. With a steady hand at her waist and unexpectedly fluid steps, Wesley, she had to admit, wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.
“You’re quite skilled; I wouldn’t have guessed,” she said.
“That almost sounded like a compliment, my lady. If you keep that up, you’ll lose your title as the sharpest in the room.”
She tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t mind sparing a morsel of praise now and then. Besides, everyone will know it was your fault if we stumble.”
“Cruel but fair,” Wesley said. “Though I’m sure I’d be forgiven. A man of my appeal and reputation couldn’t possibly be at fault.”
Evelyne smiled. “Ah yes, your reputation, charging ahead of you like an overexcited dog. I see you’re enjoying the company of this season’s fair maidens.”
He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, his gaze lingering on hers. “And here I thought you’d bring up my unparalleled generosity.”
“I’m sure you are very generous, Lord Wesley,” she retorted with a pointed glance. “Particularly when it comes to admiring your dance partners.”
“Caught me,” he said with feigned remorse, though his grin remained unapologetic. “But can you truly fault me for appreciating beauty where it’s due?”
A hint of color warmed Evelyne’s cheeks, though she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It seems your talent for flattery is greater than I expected.”
As they swirled through the final steps of the dance, Evelyne caught sight of Lord Ivan Bavrick lingering near the edge of the ballroom. His hawkish stare made him seem more like a vulture waiting for scraps than a guest at a ball. Evelyne stiffened, inwardly praying that he’d keep his distance.
When the music ended, Wesley released her with a deep bow. “Thank you for indulging me, Lady Evelyne. I trust this won’t be our only dance ofthe evening?”
Before she could summon a retort, he straightened and strode away. Evelyne exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she returned to her sister’s side.
“What was that all about?” Aurelia asked teasingly.
“An exercise in patience,” Evelyne replied dryly. “And I’d like it noted that I performed admirably.” She moved toward the refreshment table, her nerves tingling from the dance.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Alaric Stonebridge appeared at her side. His dark hair was immaculately styled, framing a chiseled jaw and a smile that could disarm even the most guarded heart. Dressed in a fitted evening coat, he looked every inch the charming rogue of the aristocracy.
“Lady Evelyne,” he murmured, a teasing note woven into his rich baritone. “Have I mentioned how unfair it is for you to command the room’s attention so thoroughly?”
She turned to him and raised a brow. “You might have, but I wasn’t listening.”
Alaric laughed. “You wound me,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “But I’m nothing if not persistent.”
“And predictable,” Evelyne countered smoothly, though her lips quirked upward.
“Ah, but you enjoy it. Admit it.” His blue eyes sparkled as he leaned slightly closer.
Before Evelyne could respond, Callista Evermere’s crisp voice cut through their exchange. Dressed in a striking crimson gown, she approached with the confidence of someone accustomed to getting what she wanted.
“Alaric,” she purred, placing a possessive hand on his arm. “I believe we were to share the next dance?”
