Henry chuckled. “Oh, have some fun, it’s nearly the new century. Butdon’tlet anyone catch you kissing, or you’ll have an irate father to contend with.”
“No kissing, understood.”
“Oh, you can kiss, but don’t get caught. And for God’s sake—” Henry smirked, unable to maintain his stern expression. “Don’t put your hands up her skirts.” He clapped Alex on the shoulder and climbed the marble stairs, with Alex, jaw hanging open, close on his heels.
The first steps inside the regal estate were enough to push the breath from his lungs. The domed ceiling soared above him, a mural of a hunting scene spreading the length of the hall. A variety of landscapes, still-lifes, and portraits of distinguished-looking gentlemen and large families surrounded by heavy gilt frames nearly obscured the dark mahogany paneling that reached two stories up to the ceiling. Thick oriental rugs muffled his footsteps, and exquisitely uniformed footmen in matching livery lined the path, taking coats and hats as they distributed delicate crystal glasses of champagne.
“Don’t forget, the host is Benedict Waverly, but his title is Lord Redborne,” Henry murmured at his side, and Alex repeated the honorary under his breath. “He’s practically a saint at the university for all the funding he’s had Parliament direct our way, highly influential.” He elbowed Alex in the ribs. “A good person for you to know.”
Alex nodded even as he gulped, the knot in his throat causing him to cough. The gentleman held court at the entrance to the ballroom, shaking hands and bowing in an elaborate dance reminding Alex of the mating habits of birds. Alex approached with ice in his veins.What if he recognizes I’m an imposter? He’ll see right through me—
Henry elbowed him firmly in the ribs, and Alex blinked hard, staring into his host’s face. “Lord Redborne,” Alex stammered. “It is a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Lord Redborne said, his gaze already darting to the next guest. “Enjoy your evening.”
He released a massive exhale, momentarily lightheaded. Perhaps this would not be so impossible as it had seemed, particularly with Henry and Roland at his side.
“I’m getting us drinks,” Henry said, pushing Henry forward into the crowded ballroom before disappearing into the throngs of guests. The room teemed with people, women decked in exquisite gowns glittering like jewels on the parquet floor, interspersed with gentlemen in sharp monochrome jackets. As he pulled at his collar, he spotted a footman carrying trays of punch. If he could get closer, perhaps he could inquire where he might find a glass of whiskey. “Liquid courage,” he muttered as he began to move.
The crush of people left him breathless. The air hung thick with perfume, and the sounds of chatter and the small orchestra bombarded his senses. Every eye in the room appeared to find him immediately and identify him as an outsider, and familiar anxiety rose in his veins, making his skin prickle with discomfort.I don’t belong here.Heart skipping in his chest, he turned swiftly in his place and collided with a cloud of pink.
Alex froze, his hands on the shoulders of the young woman in front of him. He pushed back with a stumble, apologies falling from his lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I—”
“It’s all right, I’m not hurt,” the woman said, her head cocked in confusion, as though surprised by his presence. Alex’s heart stopped tumbling and held completely still at the sight of her. A delicate, pointed chin, light brown hair hanging in waves around her neck, lush lips and sparkling eyes behind her mask that seemed to devour him, drawing him in. He couldn’t quite see the color of those eyes—brown perhaps? maybe green?—but they seemed to glitter in the low light. She stared at him for an inordinately long time, as though memorizing and making sense of his features before blinking repeatedly, her eyes widening and the corners of her mouth tipping up into a smile.
He found himself unable to speak.What is happening to me today, I am never without words!“I, um…”
“Alex, here you are.” Henry’s laconic drawl caused Alex to jump as his friend stepped between Alex and the young lady. “Ah, Miss Rose, it’s lovely to see you. I haven’t seen you since the Henderson ball last summer.” Henry took her hand and brushed a kiss to her knuckles, and Alex’s jaw clenched as he fought the urge to pull her hand from Henry’s and kiss it himself.
“Miss Rose, may I introduce my dear friend, Mr. Alexander Carroway.” Her eyes lifted to his, thick lashes fluttering and a shy smile on her pink lips.
“And this,” Henry continued, “is the lovely Miss Rose Waverly, daughter of the Viscount Redborne.” Alex’s eyes widened as the young woman blushed and then dropped into a practiced curtsey.
Alex mimicked Henry’s bow as well as he could and swallowed hard as he stood again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rose.”
“We have met,” she said, then closed her eyes for a quick moment before meeting his gaze again. Alex quirked his head, but Henry spoke before Alex could question her statement.
“I hoped I could claim a dance from you tonight, Miss Rose,” Henry said, sliding his shoulder in front of Alex and attempting to claim her attention.
The lady’s eyes flew to the young aristocrat. “Oh, um, my Lord, I—I seem to have misplaced my dance card.”
Henry’s head tilted, and Alex watched her closely. She pulled at the fabric of her skirts, eyes darting around the room as though looking for an escape.
“Then perhaps I will dance with you sometime in the future,” Henry said, the energy draining from his voice. He turned and grimaced as he made eye contact with Alex, shaking his head as he made a push for the refreshments, leaving Alex and Rose in his wake.
“Would you like some champagne?” she asked, her voice bright.
Alex gave her a dazed look. The young woman’s expression had completely changed, bright and open, as though she wanted nothing more than to keep Alex by her side.This is…unexpected.
“Yes,” he replied. “I would love some champagne.” Beaming, she began working her way through the crowd, sliding through the revelers with practiced ease. The woman grabbed two glasses of champagne with a nod from a passing footman, then continued to maneuver until she sat on a bench in an alcove just outside the ballroom.
“Here,” she said, shoving one glass into his hand, then drinking deeply from hers. The heat of her fingers raced up his arm, and his breathing quickened. Unlike most of the women at the party, she did not wear gloves, nor did she sip daintily from her glass. He followed suit, draining the glass in a few gulps. The bubbling wine tickled his nose and fortified him enough to remember his manners.
“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Rose. You are the daughter of our hostess, then?”
She nodded, pressing her fingers to her lips. “One of the many. Daughters, I mean, not hostesses.”
“I understood your meaning,” he said, his heart soaring when she rewarded him with a half smile. She shifted on the bench, glancing towards him for short bursts before looking away again. “You told Lord Morley that we had met before. Have we met?”
