Page 20 of Only Scandal Will Do

By this time they were in the carriage and Jack gave the direction to the driver. Kat raised an eyebrow. “You said we were going to Lady Harcourt’s rout tonight.”

“Later, dear sister. We have another stop to make first.” Jack’s smug countenance told her she was in for a night of surprises. Ah, well. Her final night in London society should be a night for her to remember always.

* * * *

Duncan stood talking to the Earl of Braeton about Braeton’s newest acquisition for his stable, surreptitiously glancing about the crowded ballroom to no avail. The brightly lighted room swirled in gaiety: dancing couples followed the intricate steps of a minuet, others dallied in shadowy corners to steal a moment or a kiss alone. Onlookers strolled about with eyes peeled, poised to ferret out the merest whisper of scandal. Duncan barely noticed the laughter, the flirtatious glances, the lively music. He had been the same all night, always distracted, always searching for the arresting face now seared into his memory.

As midnight drew near, hopelessness descended. Another night wasted. Now he must resort to subterfuge in order to scrape an acquaintance with the lady and her brother so he could sort the whole mess out without embroiling himself in another duel.

According to his host, the new earl of Manning had indeed been invited, but sent his regrets. A double disappointment. Afraid to ask about the earl too early in the evening, when the conversation had finally led him toward such an inquiry, he could not simply have bolted home without having it remarked on. He’d given himself until midnight before he would leave.

Meanwhile, he still hoped she would show up.

“Come out to the stable and take a look at this mare, Dalbury. I tell you there’s not a better piece of horseflesh this side of Dublin. Lady Braeton is positively thrilled with her. Quite appreciative to me as well.” Braeton’s grin became a leer.

“I might as well, Braeton. I’m for home anyway.” Duncan sighed and gave one more sweep of the ballroom. No enchanting figure with fiery hair. He shook his head as he followed his host out. They had almost reached the French doors that led to the grounds, when the sound of a woman’s low-pitched, silky voice stopped Lord Braeton.

“Braeton! Where are you going with our most eligible guest?” Eithne, Lady Braeton appeared from nowhere, in a royal blue sacque dress that did nothing for her complexion, and grasped Duncan’s arm. “Lord Dalbury! I refuse to hear you are leaving us so early. Braeton!

Dalbury must stay a little longer. I’ve not had a chance to introduce him to my cousin, Miss Forsythe. She has been partnered on the dance floor all night or else he has.” She eyed Duncan as one would a stallion they were buying for stud.

“Taking him out to see Grannia, my dear. Told him how pleased you were with her.”

“Oh, she’s the loveliest mount I’ve been on in an age. Graceful as a bird in flight, Dalbury. Takes a hedge or a brook like she’s on a country road.” Lady Braeton’s eyes shone with the fervor of a true horsewoman. She was small-boned, with large blue eyes and shockingly red hair. But her good nature and excellent connections had landed her a prime husband in the Earl of Braeton. A love match, according to Aunt Phoebe.

Struggling not to imagine another face surrounded by reddish hair, he steadfastly focused his attentions on his hostess. “I fear I will have to leave after seeing your mare, Lady Braeton. My regrets to Miss Forsythe, but you will of course be sponsoring her throughout the season?”

“Of course, Lord Dalbury. I will make sure the two of you become acquainted. She has that coloring I know you are so fond of.” Lady Braeton’s laughter caught him off guard. Was his penchant for auburn hair so well known? Cringing, he bowed gallantly over her hand, then released the lady to her husband.

“Oh look, Braeton. Cecil Breckenridge is just arriving. He promised me a foal out of his

Arabian mare. Come, we must find out if she’s dropped it yet.” Laying claim to her husband, Lady Braeton steered him toward the arriving horseman with unashamed fervor. “Dalbury,” she called over her shoulder, “stay right there. We will return directly.”

Duncan remained by the door for a few minutes, then slipped quietly out and headed around to the front of the house. After calling for his carriage, he waited impatiently for it to be brought around. A wasted night. One more of many, he supposed.

* * * *

Laughing again at her brother’s impetuosity in dragging her into yet another ton function this evening, Katarina swept once more into a ballroom on Jack’s arm. He immediately spied their host and hostess and urged her toward them.

“Lord and Lady Braeton, may I make known to you my sister, Lady Katarina

Fitzwilliam? Kat, I told you about Lord and Lady Braeton and their stud out in Kent?”

“Delighted, Lady Katarina,” Lady Braeton said, nodding her acknowledgement. “Your brother speaks highly of your horsemanship. You must come to us in Kent this fall for the hunting. I always insist Braeton allow the ladies one day out in the field.”

Sadly, that invitation would have to be missed. “I thank you, Lady Braeton, but I fear I will be hunting in Virginia this fall.”

“Really! You cannot mean to leave us so soon. Braeton tells me you and your brother have only just arrived in London.” Lady Braeton’s disappointment was evident as she turned inquiring eyes to her husband. “Braeton, I thought we were to have another lady with us to hunt this October, but Lady Katarina says she will be in the colonies. From what your brother has told us,” she continued to Kat, “I am losing a kindred spirit as far as horses are concerned.”

“I suppose so, my lady.” Kat smiled in sympathy at her hostess. “I have ridden all my life

and enjoy nothing more than a fast gallop across the countryside.” She probably would have enjoyed having this woman as her friend. They were of an age, and Lady Braeton seemed delightfully no nonsense and to the point. “I too am grieved that our acquaintance must be of such a short duration.”

“But Manning will come to us, won’t you, old chap?” Lord Braeton nodded to Jack. “You’ll fit in splendidly with the rest of our set. Great judge of horseflesh, my dear. He’s the talk of the club. In fact, Manning, there’s a man here who wants to meet you. Said a friend of yours at the club advised him to seek your opinion next time he was in the market for horses. The Marquess of Dalbury. He is just over there.” Lord Braeton turned to the French doors, then frowned. “Well, he must have slipped out. Said he was on the way home. Unusual for Dalbury to ask anyone’s opinion about horses, but then your reputation’s rampant nowadays, Manning.”

Lady Braeton steered Kat toward several young swains with the purpose of making introductions. Kat was flattered at the attention, as she had been all night. First her brother had insisted they go to Lady Grangerly’s crush, then Lady Harcourt’s rout, and now the Braeton’s ball. Everywhere she was introduced, complimented, made to feel a welcome part of ton society. She accepted a glass of champagne from one of the young men she’d just met. If only March fifteenth had been a dream, life would be very sweet right now.

Jack was still talking to Lord Braeton, but another young man, taller than Jack and rather lean under his excellently cut green velvet coat, had joined the two men. Kat turned her head away and appraised him from the corner of her eye. Dark blond hair, or maybe golden brown. And a well-muscled leg. He must be part of this horsey set Jack had told her about. A fine figure of a man. Why was she now taking notice of men when she was bound for one three thousand miles away? She smiled at the notion.