If my grandmother were a sighthound, she could not be more alert. I can tell by the thinly masked surprise on her face she had no idea the cousin would be a baron—the lowest rank of the peerage, but a member nonetheless.
With a wide smile, he bows before us and I sink as gracefully as I can into a curtsy.
“I’m delighted to meet you all,” he says, his voice as enthusiastic as his smile. His eyes are a pale blue, which, combined with his wavy dark blonde hair, makes him look much younger than I believe him to be. I can’t help but compare his manner of greeting to my first encounter with the earl, and I have to say, I certainly appreciate the lack of sarcasm and arrogance.
“Lord Blackburn is newly in town after spending a few months in Scotland,” Lady Hasting says, nodding her head, which causes the hat to tip precariously.
“But not for the reason you may think,” he says and laughs.
He refers, no doubt, to Gretna Green in Scotland where young couples go to elope.
I return his smile. “I promise the thought didn’t cross my mind. I hope you visited Edinburgh, though. I’ve heard it is a fascinating city.”
“I did, actually, and I found myself quite enamored with it. The society, too, was very enjoyable.”
“What called you to Scotland?” Robert asks.
“Horse breeding. An acquaintance of mine has a particular bloodline of Thoroughbreds I have sought for many years.”
“Interested in the sport of kings, eh?” Robert says with a grin.
Lord Blackburn smiles, and I notice laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “I can thank my father for that. He bequeathed me several good mares and stallions, so I have made it my life’s goal to expand our stables.”
“My sister and I are avid equestrians ourselves. Is your stable nearby?”
“It is indeed. You are both welcome to visit. I would dearly love the chance to speak at length with fellow equestrians.” He turns to me. “May I call on you later this week?”
“That would be lovely,” I say with a genuine smile.
“Splendid,” he says.
“Mr. Sinclair,” Lady Hasting says, “I was just pointing out to Lord Blackburn how beautifully my daughter dances.” She nods her head toward Penelope. Her gown is a lovely shade of blue and has so many ruffles that I can hear the frou-frou rustle from here. “See her there dancing with Mr. Young?”
“Yes, my lady,” Robert says with a hesitant tone.
Lady Hasting launches into all the many talents of her daughter to my uncomfortable brother, and my eyes wander around the room. I’m looking for him again. I try and force myself to watch Lady Hasting instead, but my eyes refuse to obey me.
The dance ends, and the first few bars of another waltz begin. Lord Blackburn says, “Miss Sinclair, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
I drag my attention to his smiling face. “Oh, yes of course. Thank you.”
We take our places on the gleaming dance floor, as he places one hand at the small of my back. When our hands join, he glances down, a curious look fleeting across his face. But in the time it takes me to blink, the look is gone, replaced by a contented smile. It makes me wonder if I imagined the whole exchange, since I sensed nothing unusual when we touched.
As we move through the elaborate steps of the dance, I take advantage of our central location on the dance floor to look for Eliza. I know she will only be too willing to make mention of Robert’s faux pas.
I find her among the dancers. She catches me watching her and gives me a haughty little smile, so I glance away at the people on the outskirts of the dance floor. Again, I find myself searching the crowd for the earl, and this time I cannot resist. I focus on gentlemen who are taller than the others, and after a moment, I find him. His eyes lock on mine, and I give a little jerk of surprise at his glower.
My feet make the correct dance steps, and I tell myself to stop staring at the earl, but the more I tell myself, the more I sneak glances at him. Why is he frowning so intensely at me?
“You dance beautifully,” Lord Blackburn says as we soar about the room. “Are you as graceful on a horse?”
I laugh. “Now how can I possibly answer such a question without sounding abominably conceited?”
“You must forgive me for putting you in such a precarious position. I think I can safely assume you are a skilled rider else your brother would not have recommended you.”
“But how can you be so sure my brother was not playing a wicked joke?” I say with a teasing smile.
Though I’m tempted to check to see if Lord Thornewood is still frowning, I force myself to look upon Lord Blackburn’s face instead. He is handsome; even his crooked bottom teeth are charming. With his lean frame and wan complexion, he seems almost fragile, as though his pale skin is actually porcelain. So different from the earl, whose presence could never be described as anything other than commanding.
“Another excellent point,” he says. “I shall be forced to trust my instinct.” He is quiet for a moment as we both catch our breaths. “I look forward to being proven right when you visit my stables. I would love to have friends with whom I can share this obsession of mine.”
His mention of the word friends relaxes muscles in my neck I didn’t even realize were tense. “It would be our pleasure, believe me. We love anything to do with horses.”
We spin in a circle again, and he leans toward me with a conspiratorial smile. “I say, do you have any idea who that gentleman is? The one who is even now staring daggers at us. I can’t imagine what we have done to wrong him.”
Still glowering then. My heart beats as if we’ve just danced a jig. “That is the Earl of Thornewood, my lord. But I cannot imagine why he is staring. Perhaps he is merely lost in thought.”
We circle back to where we began our dance. I find myself facing the earl, so I keep my eyes on the lady in the pale pink dress to the right of him.
“Then his thoughts must be very dark indeed,” Lord Blackburn says wryly. The waltz ends, and he bows to me. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Sinclair. Would you care for some refreshments? A glass of champagne perhaps? I’m sure you must be parched.”
I smile gratefully. “That would be perfect, thank you.”
He makes his way toward the refreshment table as Lord Thornewood approaches. “Miss Sinclair,” he says and gives a short bow of his head. “You are quite the elegant dancer.”
“I thank you, my lord. This is high praise indeed, especially from someone who was just a few moments ago glowering at me.”
“I believe you must be mistaken. I was only watching the dance.”
His tone has too much of a hint of irritation for my tastes, so I move toward Robert. “If you’ll excuse me, I see my brother desires my attention.”
His hand reaches out and touches my arm. “Miss Sinclair, wait.”
I turn back, my eyebrows raised. “My lord?”
He hesitates. “Do you know Lord Blackburn well?”
“I only met him moments ago.”
“I see.” His eyes narrow as he glances in the direction of the refreshments table.
He is quiet so long I finally ask, “Are you well acquainted with Lord Blackburn?”
“No.”
I blow out my breath in frustration. “Then why do you ask, my lord?”
His attention refocuses on my face. “Only a polite curiosity.”
I’m aware he is not telling me the whole truth, but I am quite at a loss as to how to press him further. A rustle of silk draws my attention to the left, and I tense when I see the dress belongs to Eliza.
“Honestly,” Eliza says with her characteristic mean smile. “I have yet to find the two of you on your own. I hope you won’t mind my interruption, but I simply had to come and compliment you on your gown, Katherine. It’s exquisite.”
“Thank you, Eliza. The pale pink on your gown is lovely as well,” I say cautiously.
“You are too kind,” she says. “My lord, do not think I mean to slight you.
Your coat is the very height of fashion.”
“Thank you.”
She frowns when he does not compliment her in turn, but Lord Blackburn returns with my champagne before she can say anything.
“Forgive me for taking so long,” Lord Blackburn says as he hands me the small glass of champagne.
“No, it wasn’t long at all,” I say, my tone tense. I am so flustered I take a sip of champagne and nearly forget to make introductions. I do so, and Lord Blackburn smiles in welcome at Eliza and Lord Thornewood, but the earl doesn’t return the gesture.
Eliza smiles sweetly at Lord Blackburn. “My lord, I have heard you are a horse enthusiast and have quite the reputation as one of the premier horse breeders in the kingdom.”
He returns her smile, and his eyes brighten. “You have the first bit right, though as to the second, I can make no assertions either way.”
She tilts her head, jewels winking at her throat. “Perhaps you have heard Miss Sinclair is also a very talented horsewoman?”
“Yes, so I’ve been told,” he says with a grin in my direction. I make no move to return his attention since mine is entirely focused on Eliza. “I have invited both she and her brother to visit my stables.”
Eliza’s expression reminds me of the one our old tabby shows when she corners mice in our barn. “Oh, how delightful.” She turns to me with mock concern on her face. “But Katherine, will you be able to handle such spirited horses with a sidesaddle? I know it is so very unfamiliar to you.”
All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears. This cannot be happening.
Lord Blackburn’s eyebrows draw together. “Miss Sinclair does not ride sidesaddle?”
“On the contrary,” the earl says, his expression firm. “She rides aside with great skill. Miss Gray refers to handling spirited horses, though in this, she is mistaken.” His eyes hold Eliza’s for many moments, as if issuing a silent challenge to contradict him.
She presses her full lips together. “Forgive me. I am indeed mistaken.”
Lord Blackburn says something, but it doesn’t even register in my mind. I cannot tear my eyes from Lord Thornewood. With very little effort, he has saved me from utter humiliation.
“We should enjoy the fair weather one day at Hyde Park,” Lord Blackburn says, once I am paying attention to his comments again.
“Lord Thornewood and Miss Sinclair had quite the exciting afternoon just the other day there,” Eliza says. She touches me ever so delicately on the arm, and I have to restrain myself from jerking it away like a toddler. “And it was a lucky thing you were both there since that little boy would have surely tumbled into the river.”
“How terrible,” Lord Blackburn says. “Were you instrumental in saving him, Miss Sinclair?”
I force my eyes not to dart to Eliza’s face. “Not at all. Sadly, I could only watch from the other side of the bank.”
Eliza turns to me. “I saw the whole thing,” she says to Lord Blackburn, and my heart pounds in my throat. Surely if she saw anything she wouldn’t say so here? “When they noticed the poor thing drawing too close to the water, Lord Thornewood rode to save him like a gallant knight.” She puts her hand on her chest. “Really, it was too much.”
I want to sag forward with relief, but I manage to stay upright. Still, the glint in Eliza’s eyes keeps me on my guard.
“Very gallant indeed,” Lord Blackburn says.
“I cannot say that it was since, ultimately, it was the muddy bank that prevented the boy from entering the water,” Lord Thornewood says in his characteristically bored tone. His eyes meet mine. “But I can say in all certainty that the day was exciting nonetheless.”
NINE
ONCE the conversation turns to more mundane affairs, I steal a glance at Lord Thornewood as I take a sip of wine. He watches the conversation with a disinterested look on his face, and then his gaze shifts to me. I look away and nervously bite the inside of my cheek. This will not be the last time Eliza will attempt to destroy my reputation. But I cannot help but think one thing, one I dare not hope for—that Lord Thornewood knows what she said was true and defended me anyway.
The conversation drops off abruptly, and I look up from my glass. Lady Spencer, one of the wealthiest and most influential ladies of Society, joins our group. Even Eliza is struck mute.
Despite her heavier size, Lady Spencer is intimidatingly elegant in a violet satin gown and more diamonds at her throat and wrists than even royalty can boast. She greets each of us by name as if she studied every member of the peerage. We manage to return her greeting, all except for Lord Thornewood, who looks as uninterested as he did the first night I met him.
“Lord Thornewood,” Lady Spencer says, “I was surprised to see you here. I know you have looked down on dances in the past. Perhaps this fine ball has changed your mind?”
“Actually,” the earl drawls, “I find this very dull.”
Lady Spencer sucks in her breath in outrage.
“Perhaps if the dancing was livelier—the tango is taking hold in Paris, I understand.”
Her eyes, already so close in appearance to a frog’s, bulge. The tango is viewed as quite scandalous, even sinful, having come from the brothels of Argentina. No doubt Lord Thornewood knows this and is simply antagonizing her.
I glare at him. I can’t help it. My debut is supposedly tied to his good opinion, but what good is his opinion if all he does is insult everyone? Especially one of the most well-known ladies of the peerage.
While Lady Spencer’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, he turns to me. “Care to dance?”
He takes the glass from my hand, sets it down on a nearby table, and pulls me toward the dance floor before I can think of an excuse.
“My lord,” I say through clenched teeth as I tug my hand free, “I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no, either,” he says and takes his position beside me.
Leaving him on the dance floor, though satisfying, would only cause a bigger scene. I sigh as I go through the steps of the waltz.
After a few minutes he says, “Your constant sighing is bothering me.”
I narrow my eyes at him instead.
“I can’t imagine what I did to deserve such censure,” he says as he twirls me effortlessly.
“Can you not? Perhaps it has something to do with your rudeness.”
He shrugs. “I see it more as candor.”
The constant pauses in our conversation make me clench my teeth in frustration. “Lady Spencer will ask you to leave.”
“If only.”
I hesitate during one of the steps, and I bump into Lord Thornewood. He steadies me with his hand on my elbow for a moment, and my skin burns, even through the white satin of my gloves. He gives me a wry grin.
“I suppose your patronage of my debut was too much to ask for,” I say.
“What a dramatic, overly emotional response,” he says, still wearing his irritating grin. “And here I thought I’d found the perfect woman.”
I ignore the way my heart beats faster when he calls me perfect and focus on the negative instead. “It may be dramatic to you, but your entire family isn’t relying on your successful debut.” My voice snaps like a whip, but he merely tilts his head to the side.
“How mad you are. You wear anger beautifully though. I’ve never seen a prettier flush.”
I groan in frustration—both at my own body’s joyful response at his words and the lack of appropriate response from him.
He leans closer to me on the next turn, and I feel my flush deepen. “Perhaps you would not be so annoyed if you could see Lady Spencer’s face.”
I glance up to find her watching us alongside Lady Villier, another influential dowager. Both have matching smiles as if they could not be more delighted to see us together.
“Why are they smiling?” I ask.
“Because I have intrigued them,” he says. “They’re not used to being treated in such a rude manner, and have decided I—and by extens
ion, you—am the most interesting person this season.”
“My lord, I—”
“What you don’t realize about Society, Miss Sinclair, is it craves entertainment above everything else. Entertain them,” he says with a dark smile, “and you can just about get away with murder.”
We join hands for the finale, and as the skin of my palm burns from his touch, I turn his words over in my mind and wonder if maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge the earl after all.
Supper is served promptly at midnight and, unused to eating at such a late hour, I fall upon the sumptuous buffet like I haven’t eaten in days. I fill my small plate with canapés, lobster salad, medallions of foie gras, and salmon. I watch some of the other girls nibble at their canapés while I devour the contents of my plate and return for dessert.
“These late supper hours are torturous,” I say to Robert, who is eating as voraciously as me.
“They are indeed,” he says around a piece of cake. “Do you think we can raid Grandmama’s kitchen when we return?”
The sound of Eliza’s laughter interrupts our conversation. It has an edge to it, like the subject matter is not supposed to be funny. I turn and find her and another girl—Virginia something or other—with their heads close together.
“Can you believe how many ribbons she’s wearing?” Eliza says, much louder than a whisper. “It’s like she thinks she’s a child.”
I follow their line of sight to Penelope, who sits only a few feet away. Her face and ears are bright red, and I realize she can hear every word as well as I can.
“Or a pony—that dress is certainly big enough,” Virginia says in a nasally voice.
When they laugh again, I put my plate down with a clink and march over to her.
“Penelope,” I say with a huge smile, “there you are.” She gives me a tentative smile, like she’s afraid this is some horrible trick despite our camaraderie at Court, but I continue before she can respond. “I’m so sorry I didn’t seek you out earlier. Would you mind joining my brother and me? I know he’d be grateful for the company, especially since he hasn’t had the chance to dance with anyone all evening.”
Her eyes brighten with understanding and she rises from her seat. “I would be happy to.”
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