Valor felt her heart speed up the littlest bit. It must be Lord Tramondeley.
“Conte di Conpressio, he is the eldest son of the Marquis de Rossi.”
“The Sardinian fellow we met at an inn,” the duke said.
Lady Westmoreland nodded. “He is very well connected in England and maintains an estate here. They are an exceedinglycosmopolitan family—I find his father, the marquis, an absolute delight.”
“Pleasant enough fellow, I suppose,” the duke said.
Valor was disappointed that it was not Lord Tramondeley, but she was happy to see the count again. She also found herself gratified to hear Lady Westmoreland express her approbation. The count had made a very good impression on Valor and it seemed her estimation was correct.
“Oh, and Lord Tramondeley mentioned he was acquainted with you.”
Was that all he said? Just that they were acquainted?
“Tramondeley, excellent,” the duke said.
Valor felt someway insulted by that. Mentioned they were acquainted, indeed.
They proceeded into the ballroom and found her sisters all together.
“Where are your husbands?” Valor asked, thinking surely they’d not all come alone.
“Huddled in a corner with Lord James,” Felicity said, laughing. “There is to be a carriage race from here to Brighton on the morrow. Speculations abound and the bets are being laid. I hope they are being subtle about it, else the patronesses will not like it.”
From out of the corner of her eye, Valor saw Lord Tramondeley come into the ballroom with Lord Ledderbey. He was looking very dashing indeed and his caramel-colored hair shone in the candlelight. His eyes settled on her, which gave her a bit of a shiver. Then he strode purposefully in her direction, which gave her another little shiver. He really was a glorious sort of man, excepting his dangerous habits. And only beingacquaintedwith her.
“Goodness,” Patience said softly, “here he comes.”
