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Her smile was just as lovely as it had been just over two weeks ago when last they’d spoken. Perhaps even more so.
“I’m glad you could come,” she said.
“I promised I would.”
Her smile brightened. “Yes, you did.”
Why the blazes did he suddenly feel like a young boy staring at the belle of the ball? His advanced years should shield him against such an experience, surely. But just then, it clearly wasn’t.
“Well?” Charlotte asked, motioning toward the room and couples around them. “What do you think of my ball?”
He eyed her carefully before turning and looking over the mess of people and silks around them. Charlotte was fully aware that he didn’t care for society...so why ask?
It was moments like these that he strongly suspected were the reason the good Lord granted him three daughters. If they’d taught him anything, it was to watch his tongue and speak compliments instead of criticism.
“It is quite...refined.”
Her eyes sparked the way they did when he said something displeasing. However, this time—for there had been many times she hadn’t liked what he’d said—she continued to smile.
“That’s all you have to say?” she asked. “That my ball is ‘refined’?”
“Would you rather it not be?” He could see now that his choice in words had missed its mark. Yet, instead of apologizing, as he knew he ought to, he chose to goad her. Just a little. It was simply too diverting.
If they hadn’t been surrounded by nearly all of London’s most elite, he suspected she would have placed her hands on her hips. She’d done it many times in his presence before. Such as the first time she’d insisted he wear a stylish cravat to a picnic she was hosting. Or that time he’d invited nearly every eligible gentleman to dinner in the hopes Dinah would choose one to marry and settle down already.
Instead, though, tonight she simply lifted an eyebrow and took a step closer to him. She was nearly eye to eye with him, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. “That my ball would be filled with the refined is a given. I, after all, am the Lady Blackmore.”
Though her words and bearing may have appeared haughty to the casual onlooker, Seth caught the gleam in her eye, the lilt to her words. She was speaking in jest. Still, he couldn’t deny that she most certainly was a force to be reckoned with. And yet, for all the influence she held, he’d never known a kinder soul or a more compassionate heart.
“Not one to be gainsaid, are you?” he said.
Her smile widened, as though pleased at the thought of a challenge. “No, sir, I am not.”
She was so beautiful in the candlelight. Seeing her thus, it made attending a ball almost worthwhile. “London has been good to you while I’ve been away, it seems,” he said.
Charlotte’s smile faltered.
Seth felt his back stiffen. Had something gone amiss while he was away? He hadn’t been gone more than a couple of weeks.
“It’s nothing all that bad, truly,” she began. “Only, I was told the strangest, most unsettling tale this afternoon. I would dearly like to discuss it with you. Perhaps you can help me make heads or tails of the thing.”
At that moment, two elderly women bustled between them, attired in dresses that were strikingly similar to one another, if not completely identical. One caught Charlotte by the arm, and the other edged Seth out of the way, forcing him to take several steps back. It seemed Charlotte’s odd tale would have to wait a bit.
“There you are, dear,” the first said. A large spray of feathers adorned her headdress. “We’ve been looking for you for nearly half an hour.”
“Again?” Charlotte asked, and if Seth wasn’t mistaken, the way she bit down slightly on her lower lip meant she was trying not to laugh.
“It is a big ballroom,” the second elderly woman said in protest. She tugged uneasily at a rather long strand of pearls about her neck.
“And we are not as tall as we once were,” the first added. “It’s not easy to find a person when we can’t even see past the individuals immediately surrounding us.”
Seth could see how that would cause a problem. The two elderly women didn’t even come up to his shoulder.
“Lady Keats, Lady Kingman, may I make you known to Sir Mulgrave?” Charlotte said, indicating him.
One lady shook her head, while the other waved him off. “We know who he is already.”
Charlotte’s eyes jumped to him, even as her expression morphed into one of surprise. “You’ve already met?”
