she’d known him practically forever. He was well read, had a decent sense of humor and—
—wasn’t Pierceson Prescott.
She picked up her champagne and smiled brightly at George, determined to ignore the little voice inside her that insistently compared George’s modest appeal with the colonel’s overwhelming magnetism. It wasn’t George’s fault he wasn’t as tall as the colonel. Or that his thinning blond hair wasn’t the rich chestnut the colonel kept rigidly cut in order to control the lustrous waves. George couldn’t help the fact that his blue eyes were just that. Blue. Ordinary and not the least bit full of anything that seemed to speak to her soul.
Annoyed with herself more than ever, the moment the speeches were completed and the orchestra began playing again, Meredith drained her champagne and practically leaped from her chair to drag poor George through the tables to the dance floor.
The bride and groom danced first, of course, but were soon joined by the King and Queen. The guests stood on ceremony only long enough to receive an invitation to the gleaming dance floor from King Morgan before they crowded on. It didn’t matter whether it was a stately waltz, a smooshy love song or the latest rock hit from America, Meredith thought, as she swung in George’s arms to the quick tempo. These people were ready to dance.
Not even the departure of Megan and Jean-Paul dimmed the celebration, Meredith noticed later, as she hovered in the private courtyard. The limousine that would carry the couple to the private port where Jean-Paul’s sailing ketch, the West Wind, was docked had long departed. But Meredith had little desire to go back to the reception, though she knew she should.
“Quit mooning.” Anastasia slid her arm through Meredith’s and leaned close as they finally turned and headed toward the ballroom through the formal gardens. “They’re honeymooning at sea. It’s very romantic.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re going to miss Meggie.”
“Yes.”
Anastasia sighed a little. “I will, too.” But she brightened almost immediately. “So, any smoldering looks from our lovely Duke of Aronleigh across the dinner table this evening?”
“Anastasia, please.”
“What? The man looks at you as if he is mentally salivating.”
Meredith’s cheeks heated, and she was glad the only light in the gardens came from the plethora of tiny white bulbs twinkling in the trees. But, as she and her sister were utterly alone, she couldn’t keep her thoughts in any longer. “If Colonel Prescott had ever been the least bit interested in me, he would have said or done something long before now. He’s a man of action, Anastasia.”
“Mmm. Brings delicious things to mind, doesn’t it?” Her sister giggled softly, reminding Meredith of the teenager she’d once been. “Yet he usually doesn’t make appearances at our humble abode. And he’s here tonight. Sitting right across from you.”
“Coincidence,” Meredith assured her. “Mark my words. When we go back into the ballroom, I’ll bet you my favorite bottle of perfume he’ll be dancing with Juliet Oxford.”
“With her surgically enhanced chest, you mean.”
“Anastasia!”
Her sister shrugged, uncaring. “It’s true, isn’t it? Though Juliet certainly didn’t begin there. She started with that nose. And the chin, and then her buggy eyes—”
“You’re awful.” Meredith couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s outrageous statements. Juliet Oxford may have had some help in the cleavage department, but she’d been born beautiful, and Anastasia knew it.
Her sister grinned, then pulled Meredith toward the steps leading to the terrace. “Seriously, darling, why would the duke possibly want her when he could have you? He is probably here because of the action you took at the church with that kiss.”
Meredith appreciated her sister’s loyalty, but not necessarily the reminder of her behavior. The doors to the ballroom were open to take advantage of the lovely night, and music streamed from inside. They paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of the guests. The Queen had retired to her chambers after bidding goodbye to Megan and Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul’s parents had also departed, along with a good number of the older guests. Those who remained seemed fit to party until dawn, including the King, who was standing in conversation with a small group of people near the dais. As Meredith watched, her father tossed back his head and laughed uproariously.
Well, at least he was having a good time. Taking a small breather from the stress of the last several weeks while negotiating the alliances.
Only Meredith wasn’t interested in watching her father. After that one brief glance, her eyes had immediately trained on Pierceson Prescott. Who was, sure enough, on the dance floor, holding Juliet Oxford in his arms. “What did I tell you?” Meredith murmured to her sister. The smile on her face felt unusually forced.
Anastasia gave her a sympathetic look before being swept off by friends. Meredith headed for one of the liveried staff circulating the room and took a crystal flute from his tray.
In seconds, George was at her side, but she begged off dancing, holding up her champagne. “I think I’d like just a quiet spot for a bit, George, if you don’t mind?”
Far too good-natured to be offended, he offered his company. She could hardly decline, but she was utterly grateful when some of his friends soon came by and pulled him away. Then, while she was rather stealthily working her way toward the terrace and the peace and quiet out there, Owen looped his arm around her waist.
She barely had time to put down her glass before he swung her onto the dance floor. “You can’t rebuff your brother,” he said, grinning.
“Well, I could,” Meredith corrected, grinning back. “But I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of all your fans.”
He made a face. “There’re a lot of guests,” he said after a moment.
“It’s a wedding. Of course there are a lot of guests.”
“I overheard Gwen talking with Mrs. Ferth. There were a lot of guests added at the last minute.”
Lady Gwendolyn Corbin was their mother’s lady-in-waiting, and Mrs. Ferth the Queen’s personal secretary. Naturally, the two women had been involved in the guest list. “Owen, it’s a wedding. A royal wedding, planned in an excruciatingly brief amount of time. Who knows what details went into the guest list.” Something in her brother’s eyes made hers narrow humorously. “Imagining conspiracies?”
His lips twitched, as she knew they would. “Only of Mrs. Ferth trying to stack the room with suitable prospective missus Owens.”
Meredith laughed softly. Owen would never be manipulated that way. Even at twenty-three, he was too much a man of his own. “Well, prospective brides aside, there are a number of pretty young things in the room who would be more than happy for ten minutes of your company. So what are you doing dancing with your old sister?”
“Because he wants to dance with his sister who isn’t so old,” Anastasia said behind her, and Meredith looked over her shoulder to see her little sister dancing with Colonel Prescott.
Meredith
