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“And what was your prediction?” Lady Asquith asked.
“The quizzing glass, of course.”
She chuckled softly. “You may tell Baron Blackwell that I will have my revenge when he least expects.”
“Oh, I already warned him. He’s trembling in his boots right now. Look how he’s hidden himself in the corner with Lord Neville and your son.”
Lenora’s heart dropped and a cold rush filled the vacant space. Asquith was here? And he hadn’t paid his respects, even to his mother?
“Lady Asquith,” Daughtry bowed. “Miss Millicent. Miss Lenora. Charmed.”
As Lenora and Millie responded in kind, Lenora was never more grateful she could act. Her stomach convulsed with strange spasms, yet outwardly, she remained composed.
Asquith had not seen fit to seek her out. Very well.
She squared her shoulders. His absence told her all she needed to know. If he no longer wanted her, she refused to linger in his mother’s shadow.
She scanned the crowd and spotted Lady Amelia standing close to Lady Jersey. She caught Amelia’s eye. Amelia gave her a regal nod and then turned to Preston. A moment later, the siblings were striding in Lenora’s direction.
Cavalry.
Soon, with Lady Asquith’s consent, Lenora and Amelia rejoined the party of young ladies gathered around Lady Jersey. Lenora carefully concealed herself amongst the fluttering fans.
She refused to look at the glimmer at the corner of her eye. A glimmer that appeared to be her love but was just a trick of the light.
***
Asquith had been covertly monitoring Lenora’s movements since she first stepped over Almack’s threshold. His plan for this all-important night had been straightforward—give her the opportunity the Lord Chancellor had suggested without undue interference.
Per that plan, he’d arrived early with his closest male friends, done; found a quiet corner, also complete; and observed until he could ascertain her sentiments, less productive than intended.
He knew Lenora was a master of deceit, but he’d hoped to catch some subtle indication that she still held him in esteem.
Frustratingly, he found none.
Worse still, his companions, Neville and Blackwell would not stop talking.
“She’s outdone herself tonight.” Blackwell folded his hands behind his back as he shook his head. “What a spectacle!”
“If you mean Miss Millicent,” Neville replied, “then, yes, I wholeheartedly agree.”
Blackwell gave Neville an evil smile. “Actually, I was speaking of the Duchess of Harbury. And, for that matter, the duke.”
“I don’t see anything untoward in his behavior,” Neville replied.
Blackwell gave Asquith a nudge. “Even your mother and her fellow battle-axe dowagers are over there sighing.”
“I know.” Asquith slanted a glance toward his mother.
For Blackwell’s benefit, he explained his mother’s attachment to the Wainwrights. Lest his own attachment be too obvious in front of his friends, his gaze traveled from Lenora to the dancing couples. He easily located Harbury and Cassie among the throng.
“I cannot believe how hard Harbury has fallen for Cassie!” he said, pretending to agree with Blackwell. “Redver for Eliza, too. Clearly, the Wainwrights pose a significant danger to any unmarried man.”
“Do I detect a hint of fear?” Blackwell asked. “Fear, perhaps, you may be the next to succumb to the siren call of a Willful Wainwright?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Neville cut in. “Asquith would never do anything so untoward as to fall for one of his wards.”
“Untoward,” Asquith repeated under his breath. “Yes, very.”
