Page 23 of One Night with an Earl

Dozens of crystal chandeliers holding hundreds of candles set the Mayfair ballroom ablaze. Ana was dressed in another crepe gown, a dull blue one this time. Her dark curls again were pulled back in a bun at her nape and covered with another respectable lace cap.

In contrast, the ballgowns of the ladies of the beau monde were a rainbow-like display from vibrant tones to pastels to the occasional white. The women’s hairstyles were just as varied—dyed ostrich plumes swayed from towering turbans beside braided cornets and Roman-style ringlets with hair bandeaux. But it was the sparkle of diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds—the daring abundance of precious stones and gold jewelry of the wealthy—that was dazzling.

Not long ago, Ana had owned a dozen ball gowns and her hair had been fashioned in a stylish chignon by her own lady’s maid. Her parents had gifted her with jewels—her favorite was an emerald necklace her mother had purchased in Lebanon and given Ana on her sixteenth birthday. The jewel brought out the green flecks in her eyes.

Her heart ached under her breast. The gowns and jewels had long since been sold to pay for her brother’s schooling, and her hair hadn’t been uncovered and styled fashionably at a ball in years.

No sense longing for what was lost.

Ana followed the Malverns as they made their way across the ballroom. Voices swelled, glasses clinked, and laughter ebbed and flowed. The orchestra struck up a new tune, and couples whirled by on the dance floor.

As the crowd thickened, the air grew stagnant and the smell of expensive perfume commingled with sweat made Ana feel faint. Her gown lay heavy and warm on her skin. She longed to release her hair from the tight pins that pulled at her scalp. She eyed the open French doors.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to slip outside and escape. Even for a few minutes of respite.

A solemn look crossed Penelope’s face as she watched the sea of ladies and gentlemen on the dance floor. Ana suspected the girl was thinking of her soldier and wished to be with him in a quiet bookshop rather than at a crowded ballroom facing the gentlemen her mother had in mind for her daughter.

“All will be well,” Ana whispered in Penelope’s ear. “Try to enjoy the evening.”

Unfortunately, Ana was not the only one to notice Penelope’s melancholy mood. Lady Malvern closed her fan and rapped her daughter on her shoulder. “Stand straight and smile, Penelope. You look as if you’ve sucked on a lemon.”

Penelope flushed miserably. “Mother, this gown is too stiff. If you’d let me wear the pink one, I’d be able to breathe.”

Ana agreed. Penelope looked like a frosted cake with all the ruffles and bows. It was the perfect gown to attract a baker, not a lord.

“You’d be on display and not in a ladylike manner,” Lady Malvern said sharply.

It took great effort for Ana to hold her tongue.

“According to Lord Drake’s grandmother, he is to be in attendance tonight. I hope he seeks a dance.”

Penelope dropped her lashes quickly, but not before Ana saw the anguish in her blue eyes.

Lord Malvern came to his daughter’s defense. “No sense arguing,” he said to his wife. “Let Penelope enjoy the ball.”

More and more, Ana was growing to like the Marquess of Malvern and often wondered how he tolerated his overbearing wife. His admonition seemed to have an effect; Lady Malvern touched her fan to her lips to cover her scowl and stopped harassing Penelope.

Ana’s gaze returned to the ballroom. She fervently hoped Oliver wasn’t in attendance tonight and, if he was, that he would not ask Penelope to dance. If he took her charge for a spin in the gardens, Ana would dutifully have to accompany them. Heaven help her.

The ride in Hyde Park had been difficult enough. She didn’t know what was worst: that Oliver was the Earl of Drake, that he’d come to court Penelope, or that each night she relived the night she’d spent with the son of the man she’d hated.

She did not wish to delve into her feelings or the hot ache in the center of her chest when she thought of him.

A young gentleman approached. His blond hair was fashioned in the a la Brutus style favored by many bucks of the ton, and his green eyes were bright. He introduced himself as Lord Falksly to Lady Malvern and requested a dance from Penelope. Ana knew he was the second son to a marquess and was pleasantly surprised when Lady Malvern approved and Penelope was swept onto the dance floor. Perhaps Falksly was just what her young charge needed to lighten her mood.

Several dance sets passed, and Lord Drake was nowhere in sight. Ana began to breathe easier.

Until a movement across the room caught her attention. Rather, he caught her attention. With the length of the ballroom and a crush of people between them, she spotted the Earl of Drake’s tall figure. A group of men waved at him, and he walked over to greet them.

Dressed in finely tailored black and white, Oliver looked striking in evening attire. She recognized the other men from her night at the Silver Chalice. They reminded her of peacocks in their brightly colored coats, striped and checked waistcoats, high shirt points, and intricately tied cravats. Among his peers, Oliver’s powerful build had a commanding presence. She wondered what he had in common with the others. Her brow furrowed as a different question occurred to her for the first time.

Why had he been at the brothel that night?

Madame Crescent had told her the group of men were celebrating one of their friends’ betrothals. The first time she’d seen Oliver, he’d sat apart from the other men. She hadn’t thought of the reasoning until now.

She pushed her curiosity aside. The truth was it didn’t matter. Had she known Oliver was the Earl of Drake, she never would have been attracted to him.

Liar!