‘Better that than to be pursued by a matchmaking mama at her daughter’s first come out.’ Phineas missed his shot, but appeared no worse for it.
‘Con? With an innocent?’ Devlin stifled a laugh. ‘I cannot imagine such a thing. Too much potential for disaster there: angry fathers; duel-threatening brothers. Our friend is all about pleasure easily found.’ He aligned his cue and took the next shot.
‘Indeed, you have a point.’
The three men shared a chuckle and the evening continued in a jovial manner. When they had completed two rounds of bagatelle and knew they could no longer remain preoccupied in the study, the men walked to the main ballroom and out among the crush. Too many couples occupied the dance floor now the event was in full swing. As Con contemplated escape, he eyed the double doors leading to the foyer and stalled. His entire body pulsed with awareness.
‘Who is she?’
Bloody hell, she was a goddess.
He waved his gloved hand towards the doorway and his friends turned in the direction indicated, although Con was hardly aware of anyone talking beside him.
‘Haven’t the foggiest?’ Phineas spared a fleeting glance.
‘I have never seen her before. Leave it to you to find the newcomer in the crowd. There are easily three hundred people crammed in this ballroom. Your attention to detail is a gift.’ Devlin excused himself and Phineas remained, his expression dark as he considered the dense crowd.
A footman walked by and Constantine paused him with a touch to his shoulder. ‘Do me a favour, good man, and inquire as to the name of the lady near the arched doorway. I will await your return. If she will allow it, inform her Lord Highborough requests the last waltz of the evening.’
The footman scurried away without hesitation and Phineas whirled in his direction, his brows raised and eyes wide.
‘I have just witnessed a miracle. No one will believe me when I retell the story.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘The profligate Earl of Colehill enlisted the assistance of a footman to secure the midnight waltz.’
‘And it was good of me to do so,’ Con rebutted in defence. ‘The crowd is so thick I have already lost sight of the lady. I can only hope she has an opening on her card.’
‘Indeed, this is something new altogether.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Con refused to shift his focus, although he could no longer locate the breathtaking beauty under the arch.
‘Nothing. The footman is a very useful device when considering how dangerous it is for you to move about society with all the ladies falling at your feet.’ Phineas smiled, seemingly pleased with himself.
Con speared him with a cautionary stare.
His friend continued. ‘Take heart, the evening is already half spent. In no time I suspect you will find the lady in your arms and later in your bed.’
His friends were well aware of his habits. There seemed little sense in denying what he hoped would come to pass. He dismissed the comment with a curt nod and continued to scan the dense crowd.
***
With reluctance, Isabelle conceded Meredith had played her part to perfection and accomplished exactly what she sought before they journeyed to London. Her stepmother struggled to contain her excitement at being asked to dance the last waltz of the evening with Lord Highborough. From what Isabelle could understand, having listened to the story several times in succession, Lord Highborough saw Meredith across the room and sent a footman to her directly. Isabelle had the sneaking suspicion that the earl’s refusal to adhere to convention as closely as etiquette dictated heightened his appeal with the ton. Having yet to lay eyes on the purported capturer of hearts, she reserved a cynical view of how all the discussion of his rakish appeal could possibly be warranted.
She recalled an episode in Wiltshire when a cow broke loose on the county road. By the time the story reached Rossmore House it sounded as if a horrible, deranged monster roamed the streets and every civilised person needed to lock themselves up until the beast could be destroyed. Isabelle suspected Lord Highborough’s exploits had endured years of embellished and bloated acclaim akin to the lost cow episode. She doubted he was a rake or a rogue or any other label the ton attached to his name.
She smiled with chagrin and glanced at her card. She had no partner for the upcoming country dance which was the last number before the much anticipated Lord Highborough waltz, so she strolled into the foyer where earlier she had spotted the lovely tulip arrangement. The ballroom was adorned in roses and violets, easily enjoyed in her home garden. The bouquet of tulips could only have been imported from Holland so she could never deny herself the rare treat of their fragrance.
The bouquet proved to be everything she’d anticipated and curious if other rare flora begged to be discovered, she meandered down a nearby hallway and away from the bustling front foyer, delighting in each elegant arrangement found along the way. As she reached the end of a long corridor, she glanced around in doubt, unable to discern where she’d managed to bring herself within the large home. Straining to detect the orchestra, she heard instead the hushed whispers of two approaching party guests and, swamped with panic, opened the first door on her left. She swept inside and sagged against the closed panel with a sigh of relief.
Isabelle quickly reclaimed her wits and noted she stood in a library. No sooner did she walk further into the room to admire the elaborate pattern of leaves and vines woven into the plush carpet, than she heard the knob turn and the door sweep open.
***
Constantine closed the library doors with force, but the action did not assuage his emotion. He possessed a temperamental temper, if such a quality existed. Any number of things could happen and he held not a care of the mishap or the effort it took to right the matter. Not even the troubling situation of his missing paintings ignited his anger in as much as it challenged him to find a solution. But tonight, his smooth plan to insure he danced with the lovely stranger he’d seen standing under the archway, proved the disaster to spark his temper. The footman delivered his message to the wrong person. He discovered the error too late to rectify the situation and there was little help for it, as the lady accepted his invitation with unabashed enthusiasm.
Lady Newby initiated introductions and while making the acquaintance of Lady Meredith Rossmore proved pleasant, by no means would he consider spending time with the overtly friendly widow. Her thinly veiled attempts at flirtation bespoke of the exact reason he preferred the study to the ballroom. To make matters worse, he’d kept an astute eye on the room for little over an hour and the magnificent beauty he sought was nowhere to be found. With every intention of enjoying another glass of Lord Rochester’s superior brandy, he planned to extend his apologies to the host and leave before dinner was served.
He made long strides to the sideboard, a curse on his lips, and dropped his gloves on a nearby chair. So enmeshed was he in his frustration, he might never have noticed he was not alone, but a sudden intake of breath and the delicate scent of perfume assailed him and heightened his awareness. He replaced the brandy decanter and turned in the direction of the fireplace, unable to stop the slow, satisfied smile that curled his mouth. His temper dissipated completely and another more urgent emotion jolted to life.
Before him, looking