The Season (6 page)

So caught up in her friend's deftness, Alex forgot that she had been unceremoniously left with Blackmoor.
Almost
forgot, that is. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a breath; he was about to speak. She steeled herself for what she was certain would be a teasing remark about her clumsiness and attempted a look of polite disinterest in preparation for his comment.

"Would you care to dance, Alex?"

Polite interest switched to confusion. That was not what she had been expecting. Before she could find words to respond, Blackmoor had led her onto the dance floor and wrapped her up in his arms for her first waltz of the evening. Her first waltz ever with a man who was not her brother. They were twirling across the room when she
finally
found her tongue.

"I would, indeed, care to dance, Lord Blackmoor," she said wryly. "How kind of you to ask. Would you like to see my dance card?"

Ignoring her sarcasm, he deftly avoided another couple and spun her out of their way. "You can't have expected me to let your first
ball
go by without dancing with you, Alex. Considering your obvious attempt to escape Waring, it seemed there was no time like the present. Don't you think?"

"I fail to see that I had much of a choice, frankly," she said with a smile. "But I suppose it could have been much worse."

"Oh? How?"

"You could have stepped on my gown
—
Waring did it twice."

He gazed down at her attire, letting a few moments go by before he spoke, his voice quieter, more thoughtful than usual. "Criminal. 'Tis a stunning gown."

Even Alex couldn't ignore the way his appreciative comment made her feel. Tempering the urge to preen, she smiled up at him. "Why, thank you, my lord. I'm rather fond of it myself."

He cleared his throat almost inaudibly and said, "You look beautiful, Alex.
all
grown up." Blackmoor's grey eyes darkened, narrowing on the garment in question, then rising to meet her gaze. The look in his eyes was one she'd never seen before, and it sent a tremor of excitement through her as she felt heat rising in her cheeks again.

He looked away, then back again, and the emotion she had seen there was gone, so quickly that she couldn't be certain it was ever there to begin with.

She forced a smile, attempting to bring the conversation back to the realm of the comfortable. "Thank you, my lord."

"If I may speak frankly?"

"Certainly."

"I know you want to try out
all
your lessons, but take care with whom you test your
skill
s. I noticed how Stanhope was looking at you earlier."

"Lord Stanhope was a charming partner." Alex met Blackmoor's eyes, daring him to disagree. "I'm certain I don't know to what you are referring."

"I think you know
all
too
well
to what I'm referring. Any man would have to be blind not to notice you. This dress is designed to lure a lion. I assure you that particular lion
will
bite."

"What are you saying?"

"Simply that I would prefer not to have to play protector tonight. I merely caution you to think twice before getting wrapped up with Stanhope, or any like him."

Alex's spine stiffened in response. Her tone turned frosty. "As usual, my lord, your caution
—
or
shall
I say interference?
—
is unnecessary. Need I remind you that I've been managing Freddie Stanhope since he was in short pants?"

His chuckle held no humor. "Take my advice, Alex. Your 'Freddie' is no longer in the schoolroom. And you're out of your league if you think you can, as you say, 'manage' him. Just because you wear a gown that marks you as
all
grown up doesn't mean you are prepared to take him on."

Alex's temper flared. "I require neither your advice, nor your opinion, my lord. I would thank you to remember that, besides the fact that you're not that much older than I am, I already have a father
—
and three brothers. I hardly need another overbearing male
telling
me what to do and with whom to do it."

"More like what
not
to do. And with whom
not
to do it."

She inhaled in a sharp intake of air, eyes narrowing, and made a move to leave him mid-waltz. To an outside observer, nothing changed about their movements
—
but Alex felt Blackmoor's arms turn to stone around her. He held her fast, and tight, and his voice lowered. "You
will
finish this waltz with me, Alexandra. I
will
not
allow
you the pleasure of giving me a set-down at your first
ball
."

Recognizing how damaging leaving him on the dance floor would have been to his reputation, not to mention her own, Alex remained in his arms, thoughts reeling. Why was she responding to him so strangely tonight? Ordinarily, she would have laughed off his concern. Clearly something was amiss. After
all
, hadn't she noticed the cut of his waistcoat, the width of his shoulders? In seventeen years, she had never noticed anything special about Gavin. And yet, even now, through her irritation and her anger, she was acutely aware of his hand on the
small
of her back, the heat of his gloved palm through the silk of her gown, the feel of his fingers resting against hers. What was wrong with her?

Alex looked up at him, searching his gaze for a hint of what he was
really
thinking. He was usual
l
y so unflappable, so calm, and yet
—
he had been tight with anger at the thought that Stanhope might have been interested in her. Was it possible he was experiencing the same mix of bizarre feelings that she was tonight? Could it be that he, too, had felt the tremor of emotion pass between them? Now his grey eyes were unreadable behind a mask of civility.

"I don't know what to say." She spoke quietly. "The excitement of the evening seems to have addled my brain a bit."

His gaze softened. "I shouldn't have taken such liberties. You are, of course, right. I am neither your father nor your brother. Let's not think of it again."

There was something about his comment that left Alex feeling even more unsettled. They'd always been as close as siblings; was he
pulling
away? She shook herself mental
l
y. This new world was already turning her into a cabbagehead, and she'd only been a part of it for an evening. "That," she said, pushing her disquiet to the back of her mind, "sounds like an
excellent
idea."

He smiled and took a deep breath. "I forget, sometimes, that you aren't that little girl stuck up in a tree, Minx. It's hard not to jump in to save you whenever I think I should."

There was a pause before Alex could think of a retort.
«Well,
don't go shirking your duties as savior altogether." Her smile turned into a knowing grin.

"After
all
... who else
will
save me from eager suitors with leaden feet?"

The couples around them turned to look as he laughed
—
entirely too loudly.

After the waltz, Blackmoor and Alex joined a waiting Vivi,
Ella
, and
will
at the far end of the
ball
room. The orchestra had paused in its performance, and Alex took a moment to drink in the sights and sounds of the
ball
room
—
the experience of her first event of the season. The room was lit with thousands of candles placed in chandeliers high above the crowd of people. No one seemed bothered by the hot wax that dripped from the light fixtures; they were far too dazzled by the glorious satins and silks in every imaginable color that were
illuminated
around the room.

The roar of chatter was deafening
—
it made conversation nigh impossible if one wasn't within inches of one's partner
—
but over the crowd, Alex could pick out some unique sounds:
Ella
and Vivi's laughing chatter with Blackmoor and
will
, the rustle of skirts as a gaggle of other young women brushed past her, the deep rumbling voices of a nearby group of men talking about a foxhunt planned for the coming week's end. Alex watched the hundreds of men and women making their way across the
ball
room to the
refreshment room and back again, stopping every few feet to speak to old acquaintances or to make new ones.

Tonight, London society was at its best: the women, dressed in gowns that could feed dozens of London's less fortunate, ready for another four months of gossip and jockeying for position; the men eager for another season to begin, keeping the women entertained and out of their orbit for a time. Alex was acutely aware of the elaborate game that played out around her as she surveyed the scene. In London, it
really
was about whom you were seen speaking with, especial
l
y at Almack's, and tonight offered a new set of chances to those with less title and less money to raise their own visibility by being spied in conversation with the most powerful members of the
ton.

She shook her head, amazed at the arbitrary rules of the game as she watched the odious Duchess of Barrington, whose opinion
—
thanks to a very smart marriage match
—
mattered above most others in this world, regard a group of eager young hopefuls with devastating disinterest. With her searing ennui, the duchess was in stark relief to Alex's own parents, just as powerful in this room, who she noticed were graciously accepting the acquaintance of a young woman who certainly hadn't met a duke and duchess before tonight. The girl, Alex's age, blushed prettily and
fell
into a deep curtsy as the Duchess of Worthington spoke, and Alex smiled with pride as her mother introduced the newcomer to Nick, who, ever the gentleman, responded to the introduction with elegant ease.

It just goes to show,
she thought to herself, throwing an unnoticed glare in the direction of the Duchess of Barrington,
a title guarantees neither grace nor charm.

Her reverie was cut short by the arrival of Penelope Grayson. Penelope's father, the Marquess of Haverford, was an old acquaintance of the Duke of Worthington, and the girls had spent much of their youth together as victims of that timeless parental blunder
—
the theory that, if adults enjoyed one another's company, their children must certainly do the same. And so she had been thrust into nurseries with Penelope for the duration of their joint childhood, forced to suffer her whining demands, her vapid dissertations on fashion and beauty, and her rath
er tiresome tendency toward bull
ying.

Alex could have forgotten
all
of Penelope's youthful transgressions if the other girl hadn't grown into a stunningly beautiful and spoiled woman, who never saw fit to alter her nasty habits. Alex sighed and exchanged a look with Vivi, who offered a generous smile in Penelope's direction. "Penelope! How lovely to see you."

Lady Penelope didn't spare a glance
in Vivi's direction. She knew what, or rather
whom,
she was after, and she didn't waste time.

"Lord Blackmoor." Her voice was rich and smooth like caramel syrup. "I was afraid I might miss you in the crush, and I would have been devastated to miss our dance."

One of Alex's eyebrows kicked up at Penelope's blatant forwardness. She met
Ella
's eyes with surprise before returning her attention to the scene unfolding before them.

Blackmoor had taken Penelope's boldness in stride and, as the orchestra was beginning a new song, he extended his arm to his partner. "Lady Penelope, it would be my pleasure to partn
er you through the next quadrill
e.
Shall
we?"

And with that, they were off, into the throngs of revelers, leaving Alex speechless, staring after them. Almost speechless, that is. "Did you see that?!"

Vivi looked after Blackmoor and Penelope. "I
will
confess, she did seem a trifle presumptuous. And rather rude also. Was it me? Or did she completely ignore us?"

Ella
spoke up: "'T
’
wasn't you. She did, indeed, ignore us. But, in
all
honesty, Penelope has never cared much for us. I like to believe it's because our conversation is much too
intellectual
for her taste."

Alex snorted in a truly unladylike manner. "That's definitely it. But she's found her match in Blackmoor! Look at him! He's positively
thrilled
that she threw herself at him!" She watched as the couple in question spun away into the crowd, Blackmoor smiling down at some quip from Penelope.
rolling
her eyes in disgust, she turned back to her friends.

"I
really
don't think anyone can blame us for wanting no part of the marriage mart if
she
is already the bell
e of the
ball
,"
Ella
said. "My mother even had the audacity to ask me earlier if I didn't think I should have a gown made like hers! Lord deliver me from the London season!"

Vivi smiled. "It is enough to make one wish one could hide behind a potted fern for the entire evening, isn't it?"

Wil
l
cut in here, reminding the girls that he was with them. "I suppose I could deign to save at least one of you from another tedious dance partner. Lady Vivian?
shall
we?" He held out a gloved hand to Vivi.

Smiling up at him in surprise at his use of her formal title, Vivi took his hand, teasing, "With pleasure, my lord. You
will
endeavor to keep me from dozing off, won't you?"

Wil
l
feigned solemnity. "I
will
try my hardest, my lady. Should you slumber, it
shall
be entirely my fault."

Ella
and Alex laughed as the two disappeared into the dance. The girls chatted happily as they took a turn around the room, until they stumbled upon their fathers, deep in conversation with a man whom they had never met.

The Duke of Worthington noticed the girls weaving toward them and made the introductions. "My daughter, Alexandra, and Lady Eleanor Redburn, Lady Eleanor, may I introduce the Baron Montgrave?"

Alex
followed
Ella
into a deep curtsy as the Frenchman bowed to them both with a charming,
"Enchantée.
It is always a treat for an old man to meet such beautiful young ladies."

Ella
spoke first to the charismatic older man as he placed a kiss on her knuckles. "I am honored to meet you, my lord. May I ask how you came to be with us in London this season?"

"A stroke of very good luck, of course," the baron replied with a twinkle in his warm brown eyes. He continued in the glow of the girls' encouraging smiles, "The London season is
as close as I dare get to Paris and its grandeur, my ladies. It has been many years since I have had a chance to enjoy myself at leisure. It is time for me to reemerge into the world I have so long missed."

Alex and
Ella
shared a knowing glance. It was clear that the baron was one of the many French nobles who had escaped France years earlier during the Revolution. With Napoleon imprisoned one year earlier on the island of Elba, off the coast of Italy, those escapees who had dispersed throughout England had begun reemerging in London, attempting to rebuild their lives in their new country as part of the
ton.
The baron, Alex and
Ella
had silently concluded, was one of these displaced nobles
—
an important one as
well
, if Alex's father was publicly chaperoning him into society.

Ella
spoke again. "Certainly, my lord, we are happy that you have joined us ... even more so in light of Bonaparte's recent escape and his deposition of King Louis."

Alex chimed in, "Absolutely. The knav
e may be rall
ying support across France, but he must not be
all
owed to continue to influence the lives of those he has already so terribly impacted."

Ella
added, "Though I'm not certai
n that support is what he's rall
ying, what with instituting a draft and
calling
two
million
Frenchmen to war."

Alex nodded in agreement. "True. But with
Wellington
in charge, and so many nations banding together against Bonaparte's army, I feel confident that the rogue
will
meet
his match soon enough." Turning back to the baron, she continued seamlessly, "Suffice to say that you are
well
met, my lord."

The frank political speech left the baron unable to conceal his surprise at the girls' impassioned patriotism and impressive knowledge of current events.

The Duke of Worthington, accustomed to his daughter, her friends, and their
intellectual
pursuits, interjected, "As you can see, Baron Montgrave, these particular young ladies tend toward an uncommonly more expansive view of the world than one might imagine at first glance." His words were laced with pride, and Alex gave thanks that it was one of their fathers who overheard the conversation
—
which would have sent either of their mothers into a swoon.

"A remarkable quality, to be sure," spoke the baron. "More young ladies could take their cues from you both!"

Alex said under her breath to her friend, "Perhaps the baron would consider providing lessons to the other gentlemen of the ton?"

The comment,
followed
by an irrepressible chuckle from
Ella
, was less private than Alex had intended, and the duke's eyes narrowed at his youngest child. "Alexandra, I feel certain that I don't need to speak with your mother about your candidness. Endeavor to keep me certain."

"Yes, Father." Alex recognized the gleam of pride deep in her father's green gaze and, despite his stern demeanor, knew she wasn't in too much trouble. She did know, however, that she should attempt to keep herself out of trouble with the duke and passed a quick glance to
Ella
, letting her friend know they should remove themselves from this particular conversation.

In unison, the girls dropped into deep curtsies and wished the baron adieu. The two clasped arms and skirted the edge of the packed
ball
room, deciding to try to find Vivi again in the crush.

"What a fascinating character the baron is,"
Ella
spoke hurriedly, in a distracted manner that Alex knew
all
too
well
.

"You're already putting him in your book, aren't you?" Alex teased. "Desperate for one of your journals?"

"Oh,"
Ella
scoffed, "and you would rather be here, searching the crowd for someone ... anyone ... you enjoy the company of, rather than being at home doing something you love?"

Alex cocked her head and smiled at her friend. "Point taken." She scanned the crowd again. "I don't see Vivi anywhere ... nor
will
... there are too many people in this room to make anyone out in the crush." She turned toward the dance floor and strained to find
will
's dark head over the tops of the now waltzing revelers. "You don't think they danced two in a row, do you?"

Ella
shook her head. "No ... Vivi wouldn't risk gossip like that, what with it being our first time out...." She trailed off and Alex turned to her, curious to see what had stopped her train of thought.
Ella
's eyes were on a particular couple in the crowd, it seemed.