Page 172 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

The twins ignored her, but one of their cousins—the sweet natured beauty who made her fair cousins look insipid by comparison—asked Stacia, “Is it true that Lord Shelton has gone away, Miss Martin?”

Before she could respond, one of the twins gave a tinkle of laughter that might have been pleasant if not for the spiteful sparkle in her blue eyes and said, “Poor Arabella! Are you hoping the third time will be the charm?”

Rather than look angry, Arabella cut Stacia a wry smile. “My cousins are referring to the fact that Lord Shelton forgot my name—”

“Twice!” one twin said gleefully.

Arabella cut her cousin an exasperated look. “Yes, that is true.”

“And not just your name, he forgot that he’d even met you,” the twin persisted, smirking. “While he most certainly remembered me.”

“He confused your names, Susannah,” the elder of the Moore sisters pointed out.

Susannah scowled.

But before she could retort Miss Coraline, the youngest of the cousins, who had the smudged gloves and slightly disheveled look of a girl more comfortable on horseback than in a ballroom, fixed Susannah with a searing look and said, “Of course he remembered you. It would be difficult for anyone to forget such a silly pair of bookends.”

Susannah’s jaw dropped. “You—”

“Martin!” The countess bellowed loudly enough to silence the buzz of conversation around them.

Stacia turned. “Yes, my lady?”

The older woman’s wide-eyed look of revulsion was fastened on something beyond Stacia’s shoulder. “I need you to—”

“Good evening, ladies.”

Stacia turned slowly and looked up almost a foot to meet Lord Shelton’s warm gaze.

“Miss Martin,” he murmured and then, as if it took effort, he turned to the countess. “Lady Addiscombe.”

When the older woman merely stared in appalled silence, Shelton turned back to Stacia.

He held her gaze as if she were the only other person in the room. The delicate skin beneath his brilliant eyes was shadowed, as if from a lack of sleep, but he had never looked more beautiful to her. “I would be honored if you would partner me, if you are not otherwise engaged for this set.” He gestured to the dance floor, which she saw was filling up for a quadrille.

“Martin!”

“Yes, my lady,” Stacia said faintly, unable to turn away from Shelton.

“You put the wrong quizzing glass in my reticule. I want the silver chased one. You will have to fetch it from my room. Martin. Martin!”

Shelton’s lips pulled into one of his truly wicked smiles and he raised an eyebrow as if to say well?

Beside her, Arabella cleared her throat. “I am not committed for this set. I will be glad to fetch it for you, my lady.”

Stacia gave the girl a startled look.

Arabella flashed her a conspiratorial smile and then—to her surprise—mouthed go.

“Miss Martin?” Andrew offered Stacia his arm.

And she took it.

***

Andrew felt the Countess of Addiscombe’s flaming gaze scorch his back and shoulders as he led Stacia onto the dance floor. “Did I get you in trouble my dearest Stacia?”

“I was already in trouble.”