“I imagine we will soon discover for ourselves, for the young lady has stepped away from the marquis’s side.”
Alexander glanced to where the woman made her way through the crush of guests gathered in Lady Godfrey’s ballroom. Behind him, musicians tuned their instruments. “Letus see if I cannot detain the lady from whatever is her mission this evening. You keep an eye on Honfleur.”
“Theodora?” Duncan asked in warning of his daughter’s reaction.
“Inform Dora this is strictly business,” Alexander said with a knowing grin.
“If you play with Dora’s heart, you’ll have me to answer to.”
Alexander’s smile widened. “I have never been known to possess sensibilities.”
“Aye, you’ve not. I’ll watch Honfleur. See what the French lass be about,” Duncan assured.
Alexander nodded and moved away, circling in the opposite direction of the young woman, who moved stealthily through the throng. She periodically turned away to study a sculpture or a painting so others would pass her by, meaning she had been instructed not to draw too much attention, although her costume was most provocative and, most assuredly, garnered notice. Yet, not all were put off by her guise, for, out of the corner of his eye, Alexander noted how Lord Bacggart was quickly making his way towards the woman. Even so, Alexander did not increase his speed, but he did adjust his course in order to reach the woman before the viscount.
“So you meanto embarrass me further by asking that woman for the opening set,” Theodora accused when she stepped before him, blocking his progress. Alexander had not seen her leave Hartley’s side.
“I do not recall requesting your hand for the first set, Lady Theodora,” he responded in clipped tones. Alexander adored the woman, but he knew she could create quite the scene if provoked too far, and, at the moment, he did not wish others to know hisbusiness. He was determined to converse with Honfleur’s niece without the marquis’s interference. “We have not spoken since the evening in your father’s garden, Dora,” he said in calming tones. “You expressed yourself quite clearly then.”
Theodora blushed and her chin dropped in embarrassment. “We always—”
Alexander squeezed the back of her hand to cut short her protest. “This is not personal, Dora. Now, do not engender gossip with your actions. We will both regret what has transpired, if such is so.”
He knew she wished to protest, for Scottish girls were, generally, not the type to bend easily to a man’s will, but after an elongated pause, she said, “Fine,” in that particular tone, which any man who dared to woo a hot-tempered lass, knew meant, “I hope to see you rot in Hell’s fire, and, when such occurs, do not dare to beg me for a glass of water.” With a curtsey which reeked of defiance, she walked away.
Theodora crossed theroom with as much dignity as she could muster. She noted her father’s worried look, and so she had made herself offer him a small smile, but her heart knew nothing but deep sorrow. She had made a final stand to reclaim Alexander’s attentions, and she had failed miserably.
She purposely did not return to her father’s side, for she did not wish to make an explanation to any of her party. Therefore, she made her way to the withdrawing room to pretend to repair the hem of her gown, when, in reality, the gown was not what required a repair. Her heart was in tatters.
Emma started in Theodora’s direction, but Dora waved off her friend’s efforts. Dora did not wish to explain herself to anyone. She simply required what any animal on this earthrequired when it had been beaten down—a few minutes to address its wounds.
However, the lady’s withdrawing room was not completely empty. One of Lady Godfrey’s maids paced forth and back. It was common for a maid or two to be sitting quietly in the corner of the women’s withdrawing room. They were meant to assist Lady Godfrey’s guests, if called upon to do so.
Yet, such was not what Dora encountered.
“Oh, ma’am, you are here,” the maid said nervously. “I did what the woman say. The note be on the small table. See. Did as I was told to do. Now, I must return to me duties or Lady Godfrey be angry.”
With that, the maid was gone before Theodora could explain that she was not the one for whom the note was intended. At first, she thought about leaving without looking at it. “Likely an arrangement for a lover’s tryst,” she mumbled as she caught the note in her fingers.
Fearing someone would come in and see her with the note, Dora sought privacy behind a screen where a chamber pot was available, but she did not use it. Instead, she broke the dab of wax on the folded-over paper to read its contents. “Oh my. Not the type of liaison I had anticipated.”
She tucked the note inside the fold of draped material across her shoulder, crossed to the wash basin to splash water upon her face to wash away the traces of her tears, and prepared to rejoin the masque.
As she exited the withdrawing room with a new sense of urgency, she thought, “Alexander thinks to learn of Honfleur’s plans from the pretty redhead, when all that was required was to send me to the withdrawing room. I am more successful as an agent for the Crown than is he.”
Alexander watched Theodora’sexit for a few brief seconds. Dora was fiercely loyal to those she affected, and, if he dared to admit them, which he would not, he held tender feelings for the lass, but there were times he wished for something different for his future. In truth, he thought he could never be satisfied without members of his own family surrounding him with their love.
With a sigh of resignation, he turned his attention again to the mystery woman. Bacggart had reached her side and was bowing before her. Alexander doubted Bacggart would claim the woman’s hand, even if she would be expected to sit out the remaining sets after her refusal: If she truly was Honfleur’s niece, she had not made an appearance this evening in hopes of gaining a suitor.
As he neared the pair, he heard Bacggart say, “Would you honor me with this set, my lady?”
Before she could respond, Alexander stepped between them to say, “I apologize, my dear. I was momentarily detained, and it grieves me that it was necessary for you to search me out in the room. I should have been more prompt in reaching your side. Are you prepared for our dance?”
Her eyes widened in obvious alarm. She glanced to where Honfleur held court and then to him and Bacggart. “I meant to seek some air, my lord,” she said softly, in better English than he had expected from a “French” girl. Perhaps Bacggart did not recognize the fear lacing her words, but Alexander did, and he suddenly felt a sense of protectiveness towards her.
“If it pleases you, we might walk the room instead, Miss Moreau, or we might step out onto the balcony. Naturally, just outside the door where you may still be viewed by your uncle.”
She swallowed hard before responding, “I believe my uncle would prefer I did not retreat to the balcony.”
