Page 52 of An Extraordinary Lord

Beside her, Merritt smothered a curse only she could hear and tossed back the rest of his champagne.

“If you’ll all excuse us,” he interjected before his father could ask her more questions—and before she could give more answers. “I’d like to take Miss Chase for a turn through the party.” He placed his empty glass onto the tray of a passing footman and held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

A tingle spread up though her from her toes. She knew he’d only asked in order to separate her from his father, yet wild horses couldn’t have stopped her from accepting this invitation. Not tonight, not in the middle of her fairy tale. So she slipped her hand into his, to willingly be swept away.

Placing her hand on his arm, he led her away from the group. His friends’ and father’s curious stares surely followed after them.

“Your friends are lovely,” she commented in a voice just low enough not to be overheard by anyone standing nearby in the crush.

“They’re like family to me. I’d be lost without them.”

“And your father is quite impressive.”

“He means the world to me.” He paused in front of the attendant positioned at the end of the room to change out her almost empty glass of champagne for a fresh one. “They all do.”

She mumbled her thanks as she took the glass and raised it to her lips, eyeing him carefully over the rim. “What did you tell your friends about me?”

“The truth.” He led her deeper into the party. “That you’re a legal associate who’s helping me uncover information about the riots.”

Notquitethe truth. “And what did you tell your father?”

“Nothing.”

She kept the sting of that from registering on her face by lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long swallow. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything about her. She might be dressed like a princess, but Merritt still saw her as nothing more than a criminal.

After all, that was the only reason she was here. So she changed the conversation back to business. “What do you want me to do tonight?”

“Lady Malmesbury is in attendance.” He nodded at an acquaintance in the crowd. “I want you to get close to her and find out who was in the Malmesbury carriage three nights ago.”

“Is that all?” she muttered sarcastically. “Might as well ask me to dance with the regent. I have just as good a chance of doing that.”

He slid her a sideways glance. “If you’re not up to the challenge, then I suppose we can call off the evening.”

And your pardon along with it.The words lingered between them as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud.

“No, I can do it.” She’dneverlet him think her weak. Not him of all men. “But I have no idea who Lady Malmesbury is.”

“I’ll point her out to you when I see her. She’s here. The men at the door confirmed it when I arrived.” His eyes swept over the crowd. “You’ll approach her at an opportune moment, make conversation, and uncover what information you can.” He paused. “But don’t take any risks.”

She nodded. “Because it would put your mission in jeopardy.”

He admitted quietly, keeping his attention straight ahead, “Because I don’t want you to be hurt.” Before her surprised mind could process that, he swiftly—if blatantly—changed topics. “Quite the party, isn’t it? Let’s circle through the rooms so you can see more of the place.”

They moved farther into the party and through each of the reception rooms that held a specific form of entertainment for the guests…rooms for cards and games, picture galleries, dining rooms, a separate music room where a quartet played unnoticed by the guests. She could barely take it all in. Of course, her attention wasn’t helped by having Merritt at her side, stealing most of her concentration away without even trying.

Finally, they arrived at the ballroom and the beating heart of the party. Somewhere within this crush was Lady Malmesbury, she was certain…along with the prince regent, a foreign prince or two, the Duke of Wellington, the prime minister, every peer in the Lords, and most everyone who served in Whitehall. Nervousness flared inside her and ricocheted out to the ends of her fingers and toes.

She didn’t belong here. With every passing heartbeat, she waited for someone to point at her, call her out for a fraud, have the footmen remove her—

As if reading her mind, Merritt placed his hand over hers on his sleeve and reassuringly squeezed her fingers.

Her nervousness ebbed. He might never let her into his trust, but he had faith in her skills as a thief-taker and spy. She would let that be enough for now.

They joined the end of the long line of people waiting to be announced by the master of ceremonies so they could enter the room and officially join the party. As they inched closer to the front, Veronica peered into the ballroom, which seemed to shimmer in a sea of satin, silks, and jewels. Beautiful gold and crystal chandeliers as large as carriages cast their candlelight onto the room, revealing what appeared to be all of English society and an army of uniformed attendants in old-fashioned powdered wigs. From its balcony on the other side of the room, a full orchestra played strains of dance music, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the dancers as they glided past.

Finally, they reached the head of the line. As Merritt handed their invitations to the master of ceremonies, he leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear. “There’s something I need to tell you about the introduction that’s about to be made.”

An amused smile teased at her lips. “What’s that? That you truly are Mrs. Fitzherbert after all?”