frown appearing between her brows. Why would he not dance, when asked so prettily? Could it be, she mused, taking in his flawless appearance, that he did not wish to rumple his clothes? She could not abide men who took themselves so seriously—why attend a ball if you had no intention of taking to the floor? Surely it was a gentleman’s duty to stand up with the ladies?
The lady and her brother were leaving him now, proceeding to the dance floor. Lily thought it was a shame that the young girl had been forced to ask for her own dance and been refused—such an indignity, and all at the hands of this enigmatic stranger.
Almost as if he had heard, he glanced up.
Their eyes met, and she did not have time to replace the frown with a more benign expression. For a long moment he just looked at her. Then, slowly, he raised his glass in greeting, a silent toast across the room that no doubt looked innocent—and probably even charming—to those around. But Lily did not miss the sardonic tilt of his lips, a halfsmile tempered by something else entirely in his eyes—something guarded, almost hostile.
Confused, blushing once more, she dropped her gaze.
Now he was mocking her! What gave him the right to look at her so, when they had not even been introduced? And then to make her feel ashamed for watching him? Who was he?
Gritting her teeth, she turned her back on the dance floor. She was not engaged for the next two dances—and she needed to take some air.
Let him stare at some other poor fool while she was gone.
Daniel Westhaven could not quite believe his eyes.
Robbie Pevensey’s sister was every bit as spoilt and feather-brained as every other simpering powder puff of a woman in this place. He had watched her for most of the evening: speaking to gentlemen, dipping her lashes and smiling winsomely, dancing, flirting and sparkling her way about the ballroom in a dress that told of indulgent expense in its deceptive simplicity of line.
It had taken her a long time to notice his interest, so absorbed in herself had she been. But once she had seen him looking, it was obvious she was trying to impress him.
And then, when he had caught her watching him, he had seen it—disapproval writ clearly on her face. She wondered, no doubt, at his seeming unwillingness to dance and make merry. Like all her kind, pleasure was all she lived for.
His fingers tightened around his glass. This was not what he had expected—he had heard that there was interest in her, that she was out in society again after the death of her brother…But somehow, he had expected the sister of his friend to be different. If not serious, exactly, then with a little intelligence at least.
He sighed inwardly. It did not matter. He was not looking for approval, and God knew he did not expect her to become fond of him. He had survived to keep his promise, against the odds, and now he had a duty to perform—that was all. He would do so, for Robbie.
He did not have to like it.
‘Lily! I have been searching for you!’
Standing in a trance before the fish pond in Lady Langley’s elegant garden, Lily looked round dazedly to see the sweet face and button nose of Lady Katherine Stanton peering out at her from behind a row of potted palms.
‘Kitty.’ She smiled fondly. ‘I was dreaming.’
‘Of a handsome gentleman to whisk you away?’ Kitty, two years her junior and the liveliest of the little group of ladies Lily called her friends, came forward, eyes sparkling. ‘There are many here tonight, for sure.’
‘Have you seen anyone in particular?’
Kitty considered, head on one side. ‘No one as handsome as my Tom, of course. But I have just made the acquaintance of a very dashing gentleman, or, should I say, he made mine. I had fancied him the perfect husband for you at first, but he’s ancient—definitely over thirty. Nevertheless, he seems awfully eager to meet you, so I promised to facilitate the introductions—do come along!’
Lily hid a smile. ‘Ancient indeed.’ She frowned. ‘Why does he wish to meet me?’
Kitty rolled her eyes. ‘Because he is enraptured by your beauty, of course!’
‘He said that?’
‘He had no need to!’
‘Kitty, really.’ Lily ran her hands over her gown, knowing it could not hope to approach the cutting-edge fashion displayed within by the confident, wealthy daughters of the ton.
The younger girl flashed her a wide smile. ‘Forgive me—I am just so excited that the Season is begun at last! Surely this year we shall find you a husband!’
Lily shook her head indulgently. What would Kitty say if she knew the resolutions she had made earlier tonight? And yet, could she not allow herself to hope, surrounded by all this glitter and style, that she would find love along with her much-needed husband?
Such dreams were foolish, she knew. Yet, though she was older than many of her similarly unmarried peers, she could still feel, occasionally, the girlish thrill of a handsome man paying her attention. This year she had looked forward, despite herself, to the round of balls and parties. There was peace to be found in trivial things: chatting with her friends, discussing which gentleman was most handsome, and dancing her way through the long summer nights helped her forget the darker thoughts she experienced, and her fears for the future. These past few years had not been easy ones, the last in particular heavy with sadness.
Kitty, who had been snapped up by the dashing Lord Stanton almost as soon as she had made her début last Season, always tried her best to cheer her, however. Despite her married status, Lily increasingly thought of her as a younger sister—and the girl was regarding her now with approval. ‘You do look lovely tonight, Lily. I am quite jealous.’
Lily looked down at herself, touched at the compliment. ‘You are kind to say so.’ She smiled. ‘But you know you have nothing to be jealous of.’ Small and girlishly lovely, with abundant shining dark hair and huge brown eyes, Kitty had a dramatic effect on men, who seemed to want to sweep her up and protect her. Her husband had faced stiff competition before he had at last carried away his prize.
Kitty grinned impishly. ‘Come, let us go in so you can flirt with Major Westhaven. He looks like he could do with cheering up.’
Lily sighed. ‘Honestly, Kitty!’
‘I will go and fetch him. Count to ten, then follow me.’
‘Very well.’ Lily could not help smiling at her friend’s flair for the dramatic.
She lingered on the steps up to the terrace, patting her hair to make sure it was in place and pinching some colour into her cheeks. If this man was as attractive as Kitty said, she wished to make a good impression, ancient or not.
Then, carrying herself with all the grace she could muster, she stepped inside the ballroom.
‘Ah, Miss Pevensey, there you are!’ Kitty was on her at once, with a naughty wink, laying a hand on her arm. ‘I was just telling the Major you could not have gone far.’
Lily smiled. ‘I was just outside, Lady Stanton, taking some…air…’
She
