Georgiana laughed. “Well, I do hope the sentiment is largely true. My brother speaks fondly of his time at University. Quite makes me jealous at times, in fact.”

Mr. Tyndale interjected with a smile. “It is a pity females cannot attend, I believe. Certainly would liven up the occasional stuffiness of the atmosphere.”

“Be careful what you say aloud, Mr. Tyndale,” Miss Vera Stolesk declared with a flick of her folded fan. “Such scandalous talk has no place at a ball.”

Mr. Tyndale bowed her direction. “Forgive me, madam. Permit me to beg your forgiveness by complimenting you on your ensemble. Lovely mask. I hardly recognized you until hearing your voice.”

“Oh, posh Rydell! Quit flirting so outrageously. You have known Miss Stolesk since you were a baby!” It was his sister, Miss Hilary Tyndale teasing, the group laughing as Mr. Tyndale again bowed with a flourish.

“Miss Bennet, how are you enjoying Derbyshire?”

“It has been delightful, Mr. Blake, thank you. Primarily I have been visiting my sister and snowed in at Pemberley, but that has allotted me time to play with my nephew.”

“You have unfortunately arrived at the worst time of the year for sightseeing.”

“But at the perfect time to attend a Masque!” Kitty retorted with a giggle.

“Indeed, and most fortunate for us.” This minor flattery was uttered quietly by a young man yet introduced: a tall, dark haired gentleman of twenty years standing silently at the edge of the group. He smiled, deep dimples flashing and several female knees instantly grew weak.

“Mr. Falke, you have an annoying habit of sneaking!” Miss Trent declared with a dramatic hand over her heart.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Trent. I did not wish to intrude unwarranted, but did wish to make the acquaintance of these two lovely ladies if at all possible.” Georgiana blushed prettily, Kitty boldly flashing her own devastating dimples in his direction.

“Subtle, Mr. Falke,” Miss Vernor laughed. “This is my dear friend Miss Georgiana Darcy and her sister-in-law Miss Katherine Bennet. Ladies, Mr. Anthony Falke of Haddison Manor in Chapel-en-le-Frith.”

“That is in the High Peak District, Miss Bennet, which I am grieved to overhear you have not been so fortunate as to see.”

“As am I, Mr. Falke. Luckily my sister, Mrs. Darcy, will be residing in Derbyshire for many years to come, so perhaps someday I will be fortunate enough to travel.”

“Let us pray this is so.” He smiled again, turning to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, the pleasure to make your acquaintance is profound. My father speaks highly of Mr. Darcy. I have had the pleasure of meeting your esteemed brother on two occasions. My congratulations on the new addition to your family.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He turned again to Kitty. “Miss Bennet, may I have the honor of the first dance?”

“I do believe Miss Bennet has promised the first dance to me.” A surprised Kitty glanced upward into the face of Colonel Fitzwilliam, her gloved hand automatically clasping the larger one offered. “She has promised me only one, however, so perhaps the second set will be gifted to you, Mr. Falke, if you ask so appropriately once again. Miss Bennet?”

She hesitated for another second, Richard gravely observing with only the hint of a smile.

“I will happily wait upon Miss Bennet’s pleasure. As long as my name appears upon her dance card at least once I shall be satisfied.”

Kitty gazed into Mr. Falke’s undeterred eyes, her coquettish nature rising to the fore. “The second set is yours, Mr. Falke, if you wish it.” He bowed gallantly, dimples making another brief appearance before moving away.

“Well, well! These evenings always start with a dazzle.” George stood behind Georgiana, grinning as he extended one hand. “Miss Darcy, you promised to dance with your decrepit uncle first so as not to shame me later in the evening when my ancient brain can no longer recall the steps. Gentlemen, I regret I must steal my niece away. Shall give you all time to reconnoiter and plan further attacks. Draw straws amongst yourselves for the hand of the assembled ladies. Miss Vernor, Miss Hughes, quite charming. I am breathless in the sight of all this beauty.” He bowed politely. “Miss Darcy, shall we?”

“Uncle,” Georgiana whispered as they maneuvered toward the dance floor, “I have quite a good memory and am sure that neither Kitty nor I promised our dances! Is this a plot of my oppressive brother’s to keep me from enjoying the company of other gentlemen?”

George laughed. “Not at all my dear! This is a scheme devised by the good Colonel and me with the opposite effect, which would likely aggravate your oppressive brother.” She looked at him suspiciously. “You see, every eye will be on you and Miss Kitty. You are two of the surprises of the night. The mystery girls who have sparked the interest of every eligible male in the room. We are two of them, so understand how these emotions work. You are a Darcy, which instantly excites them, plus you are beautiful. Miss Kitty is an enigma, also beautiful, and the sister of Mrs. Darcy, who created such a wave last year. Now they will observe you with increased engrossment as you both glide so elegantly about the floor. By the time you reach the edges after this set, you will have every man engaging you. You, my sweet, and Miss Kitty will not sit down for the rest of the evening, I can assure you.”

They took their places in line, Georgiana blushing adorably. George bowed, Richard doing the same toward Kitty from their location three couples away. The notes of the allemande began, the partners stepping to meet each other, as George continued, “Of course, this likely would have been the case without our interference, and so it was most probably a ploy concocted out of selfishness so that the Colonel and I could dance with two of the prettiest ladies in the house.”

Georgiana laughed, a musical sound reaching the ears of many a spellbound lad standing nearby as George had presumed. “You, Uncle, are a tease and a fibber. I think this ploy was to heighten your own intrigue amongst the eligible women! You snared partners who could not refuse so that the scrutinizing ladies will see how debonair and graceful you two are. No one will refuse either of you from here on out!”

George grinned, laying one bony finger alongside his nose. “Entirely too clever for your own good, Miss Darcy. Since we now understand each other, let us show these people how it is done!”

Whether the tactic had any bearing whatsoever, who knows? Dancing partners were in abundance for all folks involved. George and Richard did sit out for a set or two as the night progressed. Kitty and Georgiana did not.

The arrival of Lord Blaisdale occurred while the girls were dancing the second set: Georgiana with Mr. Avery Hughes and Kitty with Mr. Falke. Therefore, they missed the spectacle.

The aristocratic trio consisting of Lord Mather; his betrothed, the Lady Sybil Clay-Powell; and her brother, Lord Blaisdale; entered the glittering foyer of Melcourt Hall without overt fanfare, but the clustered guests paused as surely as if a trumpet had sounded. Although Lord Mather as a near neighbor was the invited guest, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the presence of the higher ranked and well-known Earl of Blaisdale was the star attraction.

Dressed in the sober black of mourning, the man was an imposing figure. Standing at an even six feet, burly built with a slight tendency toward heaviness, Lord Blaisdale had wholly inherited the traits of a Nordic ancestry. Thick hair so blonde as to be nearly white was worn long and tied with a ribbon in the back, narrow eyes a striking pale green spaced closely aside a broad nose, pale skin, high cheekbones, prominent eyebrow ridges, and full lips perpetually lifted with an expression of amusement or perhaps constant derision completed the picture of an icy northern origin. Yet the features combined beautifully, and to claim that he was merely handsome would be an understatement.

His sister was equally arresting. Not much shorter than her brother and every inch as Nordic in coloring and physical features, she was a beauty long sought after by dozens of suitors. Darcy knew her and had briefly considered her, but aside from the fact that she would likely not have returned the interest as his income was not up to the standards she desired, he found her to be cold and superior. Even then, always in fact, Darcy had sought a woman of passion and liveliness. Lady Sybil Clay-Powell did not possess those traits. It was Lord Mather who had finally won her hand, undoubtedly due to his supreme income and title. Unfortunately, the planned summer wedding had been postponed as a result of her father’s death.