Kitty sat stock still. She did not look out the window or show any outward interest in the news.
The baroness smiled at her indulgently. “Perhaps the evening will not be so dull after all.”
*
Giles had arrivedto Lady Markham’s ball in good time. It was one of the very last places he would like to be, but his mother was a stickler on it, he must attend.
He supposed the duchess was charmed by the idea that he might encounter a girl from a very old and storied family, but he also supposed that was because his mother had never bothered to attend. It was always dreary, and now he had not even the company of Ashworth to entertain him.
One thing he did know about this evening—one must be always alert to who might be creeping toward him. Out of the corner of his vision, he noted Miss Blaise drifting in his direction.
He turned to avoid meeting her very alarming eye.
As he turned toward the door, he felt a momentary breathlessness, as if he had ridden after a fox for some miles over rough ground. Miss Dell stood at the entrance to the ballroom.
She was marvelous! Amid the jewels and lace and ribbons and net overlays surrounding her, Miss Dell stood simple in an elegant organza gown of the most charming pale blue.
Of course, a lady like Miss Dell had no need to pile on mounds of sparkle and fountains of fripperies. A lady of Miss Dell’s caliber had no need for shopped-for distractions.
And her demeanor! She did not simper and peek under her eyelashes as if she hardly knew how she got there or where she was supposed to look.
She was all elegance.
As Miss Blaise crept every closer, Grayson defeated her plans. He strode away from her with all vigor. He must secure Miss Dell at once.
“Lady Penderton, MissDell, Mr. Dell,” Giles said, bowing.
“Lord Grayson,” the baroness said, “how charming to see you here. I should have realized you spring from ancient stock.”
“Ancient enough, I suppose. My ancestor fought alongside Henry Tudor,” Giles said. “Though in retrospect, perhaps it was not his finest hour.”
The baroness laughed and said, “Itwas, according to the countess.”
“Miss Dell,” Giles said, holding his hand out for her card. “May I?”
The lady handed over her card, and he was delighted to see that her supper was still free. Of course it would be, Sir John would not be invited into this hall if he tried to beat down the door. He wrote his name down with alacrity.
Before he could say anything further, he was slapped on the arm by a fan. He turned to find Miss Blaise.
“Lord Grayson,” she said, tittering, “you are very bad!”
Giles might have been nonplussed over what he’d said or done that was so very bad, but for knowing Ashworth’s experience with the lady. Somehow, a whack on the arm and condemnation of being very bad was some sort of compliment.
“Miss Blaise,” Giles said smoothly, “allow me to introduce you to Mr. Dell. He was just inquiring who that lady might be who so elegantly wielded the gold fan.”
“Inquiring!” Miss Blaise nearly shouted. She cracked her fan across Frederick’s arm and said, “Very bad, indeed! Do not be so bad as to take my supper, Mr. Dell!”
*
Kitty had saidnothing at all on Lord Grayson’s approach. She’d done nothing but hand over her card. She had not been able to ignore her feelings in the carriage when Frederick had noted Lord Grayson getting off his horse.
It had been pleasant, and yet unnerving. Almost as if she’d had a great shock. It felt very like the time she’d lost her footing at the top of a steep hill. In the moment before she’d tumbled, every inch of her skin had prickled.
She scolded herself for being so easy to sway. A handsome face should not send a shiver. But then, he’d come to her so quickly and hedidlook so charming. Frederick might complain that the lord’s neckcloth took a thousand years, but the result was so very pleasing to the eye. A frivolous thing to notice, but there it was.
Perhaps she should not mind that she found some sort of attraction in him. After all, it was only a dance and a supper. In truth, it was likely to be the most pleasant dance of the evening. Since Lord Grayson had taken himself off, she’d been led to dance by nothing but callow youths and aging lotharios.
As well, she could not deny that Lord Grayson was amusing. How could she help but smile over his devilishness at handling Miss Blaise? That lady was now engaged for supper by Frederick, her brother having been boxed right into it. Frederick was irate, but the baroness had laughed behind her fan all the way into the card room over it.
