Chapter 6
Kate
Kate ought to feel nervous for the first ball of the Season, but excitement sparked instead as she took in the view outside the carriage window.
Torches lined the street as their carriage neared the grand house.
Light spilled out from every window, reflecting in the puddles left behind from the afternoon rain.
A long line of carriages waited for their occupants to alight.
The ball promised to be a veritable crush.
Kate drew her gaze away from the elegant scene and found James watching her, his expression inscrutable.
She forced her eagerness back where it belonged, hoping she had not drawn his notice.
Or his suspicion. She could not afford to let him guess why this ball was of such vital importance to her.
If she were lucky, he would spend most of his evening in the card room, leaving her free to slip away among the crowd when midnight came.
Their carriage finally reached the entrance.
James alighted first and offered his assistance.
Kate slipped her gloved hand into his, aware of his strength before she pulled away more quickly than was strictly polite.
As they ascended the steps to greet their hosts, James leaned in close, his voice hushed.
“Before you are swarmed by gentlemen, may I claim the first set?” He paused. “And the supper dance?”
Another thrill ran through her, one that had nothing to do with her secret task. She attempted indifference, though her heart had already betrayed her.
“Two dances, my lord? Whatever will people think?” She kept her tone light and unaffected.
He drew closer, his warm breath on her neck chasing away the chill. “It’s James, remember? And I don’t think anyone here tonight will wonder why I am dancing with you twice.”
Heat raced up her neck as they threaded their way through the arriving guests.
How much longer could she keep her girlhood infatuation at bay?
As she walked at his side, she could not miss the debutantes’ lingering glances at his tall frame or their envious looks at her.
His evening coat of midnight-blue superfine fit his form to perfection, and his brown hair was swept forward in the popular style, a few escaping strands only increasing his rugged appeal.
Fate saved her from having to respond as they greeted Lord and Lady Wycliff and made their way inside the ballroom, her mother following close behind.
Golden light spilled from the grand chandeliers, washing the ballroom in a glow that set off the bright silks and satins of the gowns.
The cacophony of a hundred conversations and the orchestra’s music likely swallowed the butler’s announcement of their arrival. She did not mind the anonymity.
Her eyes swept the crowd. Was someone else here bound for the library at midnight? She had never knowingly met a villain or a traitor, but she did not need her imagination to know that people were not always what they seemed.
“Are you well, Katherine?” her mother asked with quiet concern.
Kate took a steadying breath and gave her mother a reassuring smile. She could do this. She would endure her first ball with James and discover whether the mysterious note pointed to something real.
“Yes, Mother. I am quite well. I was only overwhelmed for a moment by the size of the crowd.”
“Lady Wycliff will certainly be pleased,” her mother remarked. “This will be the talk of society for weeks.”
As the current set ended and the dancers began to clear the floor, James stepped forward, bowing to her mother before turning his full attention to Kate. “I believe this dance is promised to me,” he said, offering his arm.
She resisted the urge to inform him she had never answered his request and took his arm instead.
They walked onto the floor decorated with intricate chalk designs, and she took her place across from him.
She was pleased the first dance was a cotillion.
It would not allow for any lengthy conversation between them.
The less she and James interacted, the better she would be able to fight her attraction to him.
She searched the crowd once more, eager to discover who had written the note.
“You are scanning the room with the precision of a matron looking for gossip, Lady Katherine,” James remarked as they met for the first movement of the dance. “Is there someone in particular you are searching for?”
James needed only the smallest opening to suspect all was not as it seemed, and she had given him one. They exchanged places with the opposite couple before she could respond.
“I am simply enjoying the lovely room,” she replied as they continued the figures of the dance, moving around each other. “I find I am more comfortable when I am familiar with my surroundings.”
“Surely a wise habit in any setting,” James replied. His response was mundane enough, yet it held an undercurrent of meaning she couldn’t place. He stepped away in the movements of the dance, leaving her with the unsettling feeling that he had seen right through her.
When his gloved hand captured hers for the next measure, she noticed his wrists. His sleeve buttons, engraved with a prowling fox, caught the candlelight. A peculiar choice for a gentleman who had once expressed a distaste for hunting.
“What do your observations reveal about our present company, Lord Brenton?” she asked as they turned the corner of the figure. “Or do you find the room more fascinating than the guests?”
“I prefer to observe people. I can learn a great deal about someone’s character after a short time.”
That was not the glib answer she had expected. She wondered, not for the first time, what lay beneath James’s polished exterior. “And who are you studying tonight, my lord?” she asked as the dance brought them back together. “There is certainly no shortage of intriguing company in the room.”
They circled each other, hands brushing. His gaze held hers as he said, “Tonight, I am fixed on only one person.”
The words might have belonged to any charming bachelor, but the deliberate way he said them made her heart stumble.
The dance ended before she could summon a reply, and the rest of the set did not allow for more conversation.
She prided herself on keeping a wiser distance from James.
If she kept her resolve, the rest of the evening ought to pass smoothly enough.
As the evening progressed, Kate found avoiding James was the least of her troubles.
She had assumed since she was a stranger to most of the gentlemen in attendance, she would remain a wallflower by her mother’s side.
To her astonishment and growing dismay, her expected betrothal to the popular Lord Brenton made her an object of curiosity.
Several gentlemen asked for an introduction, and soon she had promised nearly every set.
Now she was in the absurd position of wishing for James’s formidable presence to deter suitors.
As she calculated the timing required for a late visit to the library, she was forced to invent a fictitious gentleman named “Mr. Thorne” for the set directly preceding the supper dance.
It was a risky move, but it seemed the only way to ensure she was unattached when the clock struck midnight.
Her current partner, however, made her wish she had employed that trick more than once.
Lord Alverton seemed all charm and ease, but there was a predatory gleam in his eyes that repelled her.
He encroached upon her space at every opportunity and held her hand far too long as the dance began, a lingering pressure that made her skin crawl.
“Lady Katherine, have I told you yet how lovely you look this evening?” This was the third time the man had commented on her appearance.
She took a slow breath and reminded herself that proper ladies did not abandon their dance partners in the middle of the ballroom, no matter how uneasy his conversation made her feel. But if he continued to take liberties, she would consider doing exactly that.
“You are far too kind in your compliments, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth. He tightened his grip on her, and she was overcome with the urge to scrub her skin despite the layers of evening gloves separating them.
She spied James standing along the wall with other gentlemen, but he was not participating in their conversation. He was watching her with an intensity that made her face warm. But James would have to wait. Lord Alverton’s hands were the more immediate problem.
When her set with Lord Alverton mercifully ended, her next partner led her out onto the floor.
Each time she stole a glance at James over the next two sets, he seemed already aware of her.
She was torn between relief that he showed no interest in dancing with another woman and irritation at his vigilance.
If only her stomach would stop tightening every time she caught him watching her.
The sharp notes of the orchestra tuning for the upcoming set pulled her out of her thoughts.
Her reserved set with “Mr. Thorne” could not have come at a better time.
Her feet ached from the constant dancing.
As she scanned the wall to ensure James was no longer watching her, his usual spot was empty.
He was gone. She had only thirty minutes to find the library and return for the supper dance before her partner was revealed to be nothing but a figment of her imagination. Now was the time to act.
She touched her mother’s arm, claiming her attention from the other matrons. “Mother, please excuse me. I need a moment in the retiring room. The heat is rather oppressive.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Of course, my dear. You do seem to be a little flushed and must be tired after all that dancing. I shall wait for you here.”