his reflection sternly, and picked up his hat.
The first ordeal, throughout which Lord Stokesdown grumbled under his breath, involved standing in a long line to pay their respects to the ambassador and a string of other dignitaries. When a gorgeously wigged and liveried person bawled, “T he Earl of Stokesdown! Mr. Whittaker! ” Derek stepped forth and bowed as if to the manor born. As far as he could tell, no one cared or questioned who the young man at Lord Stokesdown ’ s elbow might be. Lord Stokesdown had seen fit to bring him; that was apparently enough. Amazing.
The rooms were very crowded. It was just such a gathering as Derek would have relished — had he been privileged to observe it, rather than participate. As it was, enjoyment was not first among his emotions. Nerves on the stretch, he prowled along the edges of the ballroom, surveying the crowd. His Cynthia was nowhere to be seen among the shifting knots of smiling strangers.
The orchestra was tuning up, barely audible above the din of chatter. The ball would soon begin. Derek hovered at a discreet distance from the entrance to the room and kept a weather eye on the doorway.
She soon appeared on the raised threshold, as he knew she must. Derek felt his breath hitch. She was dressed similarly to a dozen other girls in the room, but somehow the effect was entirely different on Cynthia . The other females looked well enough, draped like so many Greek statues … but Cynthia was Aphrodite in the flesh. Her head held regally high, her white shoulders sloping elegantly, light seeming to ripple along the crown of her flaxen hair, she wore the clinging gauze with graceful confidence. She came in with a group of others who clustered round her, but Derek cou ld not have said who they were. H e had eyes only for Cynthia .
Again, she seemed to immediately feel his gaze touch her. Her lovely he ad swive led and her blue eyes went unerringly to his. This, Derek thought groggily, must be what the ancients meant when they spoke of Cupid ’ s arrows. He felt the point slam home in a flash, fairly rocking him back on his heels. Super-aware of her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her breath — but once, and once only. She immediately mastered whatever emotion had shaken her. Her eyes slid away from Derek as she returned her attention, with a visible effort, to her companions. And then, arm in arm with another lady, she drifted down into the ballroom and away from him.
What the deuce — ! This was carrying discretion a little too far.
Piqued, Derek started to muscle his way through the crowd toward her. He soon found himself at the rear of a jostling line of men, elbowing each other genially out of the way as they jockeyed for position near the two ladies. There was a great deal of laughter and good-natured ribbing taking place, but Derek wasn ’ t feeling particularly good-natured. He hung back, struggling to quell the outrage he felt at having to wait his turn.
The chap next to him gave him a friendly nudge. “I say, which d ’ you fancy? The Incomparable Isobel, or the Frost Fair? ”
Derek stared at him. “S orry? ”
“W hich d ’ you fancy? ” the young man repeated patiently. “I don ’ t care which of ‘ em I dance with. Don ’ t mind claiming the Frost Fair if it ’ s the Incomparable you like, or vice versa. By the time we get near enough to speak, most of their dances will be spoken for, y ’ know. So if you do fancy one above the other —”
Something like horror tied Derek ’ s tongue for a moment. But surely, he reminded himself, Cynthia would save him a dance. She all but asked him to come here tonight. He would not be here otherwise. He forced a smile. “I’ ll take my chances, ” he told the fellow next to him.
But when he stepped into the inner circle, so close to Cynthia that he imagined he could feel the heat of her body, she still did not acknowledge him. She stood like
The first ordeal, throughout which Lord Stokesdown grumbled under his breath, involved standing in a long line to pay their respects to the ambassador and a string of other dignitaries. When a gorgeously wigged and liveried person bawled, “T he Earl of Stokesdown! Mr. Whittaker! ” Derek stepped forth and bowed as if to the manor born. As far as he could tell, no one cared or questioned who the young man at Lord Stokesdown ’ s elbow might be. Lord Stokesdown had seen fit to bring him; that was apparently enough. Amazing.
The rooms were very crowded. It was just such a gathering as Derek would have relished — had he been privileged to observe it, rather than participate. As it was, enjoyment was not first among his emotions. Nerves on the stretch, he prowled along the edges of the ballroom, surveying the crowd. His Cynthia was nowhere to be seen among the shifting knots of smiling strangers.
The orchestra was tuning up, barely audible above the din of chatter. The ball would soon begin. Derek hovered at a discreet distance from the entrance to the room and kept a weather eye on the doorway.
She soon appeared on the raised threshold, as he knew she must. Derek felt his breath hitch. She was dressed similarly to a dozen other girls in the room, but somehow the effect was entirely different on Cynthia . The other females looked well enough, draped like so many Greek statues … but Cynthia was Aphrodite in the flesh. Her head held regally high, her white shoulders sloping elegantly, light seeming to ripple along the crown of her flaxen hair, she wore the clinging gauze with graceful confidence. She came in with a group of others who clustered round her, but Derek cou ld not have said who they were. H e had eyes only for Cynthia .
Again, she seemed to immediately feel his gaze touch her. Her lovely he ad swive led and her blue eyes went unerringly to his. This, Derek thought groggily, must be what the ancients meant when they spoke of Cupid ’ s arrows. He felt the point slam home in a flash, fairly rocking him back on his heels. Super-aware of her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her breath — but once, and once only. She immediately mastered whatever emotion had shaken her. Her eyes slid away from Derek as she returned her attention, with a visible effort, to her companions. And then, arm in arm with another lady, she drifted down into the ballroom and away from him.
What the deuce — ! This was carrying discretion a little too far.
Piqued, Derek started to muscle his way through the crowd toward her. He soon found himself at the rear of a jostling line of men, elbowing each other genially out of the way as they jockeyed for position near the two ladies. There was a great deal of laughter and good-natured ribbing taking place, but Derek wasn ’ t feeling particularly good-natured. He hung back, struggling to quell the outrage he felt at having to wait his turn.
The chap next to him gave him a friendly nudge. “I say, which d ’ you fancy? The Incomparable Isobel, or the Frost Fair? ”
Derek stared at him. “S orry? ”
“W hich d ’ you fancy? ” the young man repeated patiently. “I don ’ t care which of ‘ em I dance with. Don ’ t mind claiming the Frost Fair if it ’ s the Incomparable you like, or vice versa. By the time we get near enough to speak, most of their dances will be spoken for, y ’ know. So if you do fancy one above the other —”
Something like horror tied Derek ’ s tongue for a moment. But surely, he reminded himself, Cynthia would save him a dance. She all but asked him to come here tonight. He would not be here otherwise. He forced a smile. “I’ ll take my chances, ” he told the fellow next to him.
But when he stepped into the inner circle, so close to Cynthia that he imagined he could feel the heat of her body, she still did not acknowledge him. She stood like
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