Edward had joined in a general burst of laughter. It had been, actually, the best moment. He had felt accepted.

Anyway, it was a huge relief to have that ordeal behind him.

It would have been pleasant to relax at home for the rest of the day or else to have gone to the theater or White’s Club or somewhere else where he could be a passive observer rather than an active doer. But there was this infernal ball of Tresham’s to attend. And, if that was not bad enough, there was the opening set to dance with Tresham’s sister.

At least Eunice would be there. He would reserve the second set with her and hope she was content to sit it out with him. Then at last he would be comfortable and could relax in the knowledge that this long-dreaded day was effectively at an end.

He arrived at Dudley House with his mother and Lorraine. He was happy to see them both in higher spirits than they had been for a long time. They were both out of mourning. His mother had become reacquainted with some of her numerous friends in the ton and seemed determined to put memories of her elder son to rest and concentrate her attentions upon her second son. Lorraine had put on some weight and looked the better for it. The color was back in her cheeks and the gloss in her hair. The weight, the color, and the gloss had disappeared even before Maurice’s death. Now she looked her age again. She was still only twenty-three, one year younger than Edward himself. She was a vivid beauty once more.

Edward wished her well. He had always been fond of her and she of him. She had sometimes, though not often, confided her misery to him while Maurice lived. A few times he had tried to talk to his brother but had merely ended up being called a pompous ass for his pains.

Edward made his way up the staircase inside Dudley House, a lady on each arm. This was one of the first grand balls of the Season. He doubted there was a person invited who was not here already or else in the long line of carriages outside the doors. The staircase was crowded as guests awaited their turn to pass along the receiving line.

It still felt strange, Edward thought as they reached the doorway to the ballroom and the majordomo announced their names, to be treated with such deference. Mr. Edward Ailsbury had been able to slip into—and out of—any social event he chose without anyone particularly noticing. The Earl of Heyward was someone, even if he was also just an ordinary man or a pompous ass, depending upon who was describing him.

“There is Lady Palmer,” Lorraine said, smiling. “She informed me that her brother will be here this evening—Lord Fenner, that is. I wonder if he has arrived yet.”

Edward looked down at her with interest. He wondered if there was any significance in her mentioning Fenner, whom he knew as a pleasant enough man, a few years his senior.

“It may take you an hour or two to find out even after passing along the receiving line,” he said. “It looks as if this ball is going to be a squeeze to end squeezes.”

“Well, of course it is,” she said. “Who could resist an invitation to a ball at Dudley House? The Duke of Tresham never hosts balls.”

Except tonight, Edward thought ruefully, for his sister, with whom Edward was going to have to dance. He wished suddenly that he had thought of persuading his mother to sit at the pianoforte in the drawing room at home while he practiced steps with Lorraine or one of his sisters. But being rusty on the steps of all the most common dances was not his problem. Having two left feet was, and no amount of practice could rectify that.

The receiving line was short. Lady Palmer was at the near side of it with Tresham next to her. The young lady beyond him was presumably Lady Angeline Dudley, but Edward could not see her clearly, partly because Tresham stood in the way, and partly because almost every lady ahead of him had nodding plumes in her hair.

He bowed to Lady Palmer and agreed that yes, indeed, they were fortunate to have such a fine evening for the ball considering the rain that had fallen fitfully all morning. His mother smiled and nodded and made a few polite comments of her own, and Lorraine smiled warmly and congratulated Lady Palmer on what already showed the unmistakable promise of being a grand success of an evening.

Edward inclined his head more stiffly to Tresham, who returned the gesture and spoke briefly and courteously to the two ladies. Amazingly, neither Edward’s mother nor Lorraine seemed to harbor any particular grudge against the man with whom Maurice had been racing when he died. And perhaps they were right. If it had not been Tresham, it would have been someone else. And Tresham had not directly caused the upset. He had overtaken Maurice just before a sharp bend in the road a moment or two earlier and had been safely around the bend and the obstacle beyond it before that obstacle—a large hay cart—and Maurice’s curricle met right on the blindest part of the curve.

Tresham turned to his right, and Edward and the two ladies turned to their left and an avenue of sight opened up.

“May I present my sister, Lady Angeline Dudley?” Tresham said.

Oh, good Lord!

Edward’s eyes had alit upon her and hers upon him long before her brother had completed the brief introductions.

She was looking perfectly respectable tonight. She was dressed in a white gown of simple, modest design, which nevertheless hugged her tall, shapely frame in a thoroughly becoming manner. She was standing upright, with perfectly correct posture. She was smiling politely—and then with heightened color in her cheeks and an extra sparkle in her dark eyes.

She looked more beautiful than ever, though there was nothing delicate about either her features or her coloring.

Edward was appalled.

He bowed to her, and she curtsied to all three of them, though she was looking at him—quite fixedly.

“Lady Angeline,” he murmured.

Do not say it, he implored her silently.

Perhaps she needed no urging, though she had definitely been about to speak to him both at the Rose and Crown and in Hyde Park this morning.

“Lord Heyward.”

But of course, he thought. He had passed Tresham ten minutes away from that inn. Tresham in a carriage, which must be rare indeed. Tresham headed away from London just when everyone else was headed toward it. Tresham on the way to meet his sister at the Rose and Crown. The evidence had been there staring him in the face, including the fact that brother and sister looked remarkably alike. He had not made the connection.

Now he was doomed to dance with her, a lady who did not know how to behave. A Dudley, in fact.

She was smiling at his mother now and talking with her. The line was stalling behind them. It was time to move into the ballroom.

“I shall look forward to leading you into the first set, Lady Angeline,” he said.

Her smile was dazzling. She had perfect teeth.

“Oh,” she said, “and I shall look forward to it too, Lord Heyward.”

“It is a pity,” his mother said as they stepped into the ballroom, “that she favors her father’s side of the family rather than her mother’s.”

“Maybe not, Mother,” Lorraine said. “Looking as she does, she is less likely to find herself compared with the late Duchess of Tresham. That can only be to her advantage, even if the duchess was a rare beauty. And she is not unhandsome. What do you think, Edward?”

“I think she is the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon,” he said and then felt remarkably foolish and chagrined. He had not meant the words the way they had sounded. He did not feel any admiration for the girl. Quite the contrary. It had been a quite objective remark, which had come out making him sound like a lovestruck mooncalf.

Both ladies were looking at him with interest.

“She certainly is striking,” his mother said. “And charming. She has a vitality not always apparent in girls new to the ton. And she was obviously pleased to meet you, Edward. She could scarcely keep her eyes off you. You are looking remarkably distinguished this evening. Is he not, Lorraine?”

“Edward always looks distinguished,” Lorraine said, smiling fondly at him.

Edward sighed inwardly. One hour. One hour from now the ball would have begun and the first set would be over. Then he could relax.

Why did one hour seem like an eternity?


THE NEXT HALF hour, Angeline thought as the long line of guests gradually became a trickle and finally stopped altogether. The orchestra members on the dais were beginning to tune their instruments as though they fully intended to use them soon. The next half hour was going to be the most fateful, the most wonderful of her entire life. It was, in fact, going to be the beginning of the rest of her life.

The blissful beginning.

When Tresham had turned sideways in the line and the two ladies had done likewise and Angeline had been able to see the gentleman who was with them …

Well. There were simply no words.

And when she had heard the echo of the names the majordomo had recited a moment before and she had realized that this was the Earl of Heyward, with whom she was to dance the opening set …

Well.

There were simply no thoughts.

Except that suddenly she had had one—a thought, that was—and had almost suffered a heart attack as a result.

“The Countess of Heyward?” she had asked Tresham, a hint of a squeak in her voice just before he turned back to greet the next guests in line. “I am to dance the opening set of my come-out ball with a married man?”