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standing next to the woman in pale blue?” His stunning
companion was absolutely befitting of his own perfection, tall and slender,
exquisite in her robin’s-egg-blue sheath, her necklace dripping with amber
beads that highlighted the golden brown of her hair and the orange flounce of
her underskirts. Her gestures were practiced, controlled, suggesting she was
older, more mature, probably not his wife.
    Please don’t let her be his wife .
    Lady Banbury considered the question for a moment. “Yes,
hmm, I don’t know him well. His companion, Lady Foxley-Graham—she knows
absolutely everybody, my dear,” she buzzed as if to a confidante. “And has a
penchant for moving young men up in Society. Which means he’s quite probably in
the professions.” Lady Banbury glanced briefly at Mama. “I’m sure your mother
is hoping for someone of higher rank.”
    Helena’s heart shattered. It crumbled further when she took
one more look at him, smiling and chatting, oblivious to the fact that he had
already broken her heart simply by being a solicitor or an engineer. She tried
to console herself that he must be a bore. Of course, deep down inside, she
knew he wasn’t. Lady Foxley-Graham was laughing too enthusiastically for him to
be anything but fascinating. Helena reluctantly peeled her eyes away, tamping
down fantasies of herself being fascinated by him in another way.
    * * * * *
    Sophia found her daughter’s enthusiasm for the task of
finding a husband encouraging, despite Helena’s disappointment that the young
man she was most interested in was deemed unacceptable. That Helena was
undaunted by the formidable Lady Banbury was also heartening. Charlotte was a
good ally.
    “Oh!” Charlotte chirped in surprise. “Sophie, dear, see that
man with the French beard?”
    Sophia looked where Charlotte indicated. “The handsome one
with a touch of gray?” It was the most polite thing she could say. The man was
clearly far too old for her daughter, and she had been afraid that Society’s
matrons might suggest a middle-aged man as the most suitable match. He was,
however, she had to admit, very attractive. Very attractive.
    She sighed quietly. Living apart from her husband for months
on end had prompted them to arrive at a unique arrangement. She indulged him
his peccadillos and he allowed her to have her own. Neither discussed the
matter nor questioned the other. Unless there were complications .
    And the devastatingly handsome man with the beard looked as
if he could be complicated.
    “Yes, yes.” Charlotte gave her a queer look. “Oh no, my
dear. Not for Helena,” she lowered her voice, “for you.”
    Sophia choked back her utter shock. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “I mean for those times you feel quite distressed and need
some professional advice and care. That man is Dr. Julius Christopher. He works
with all of Society’s women to cure their complaints. From ennui to hysteria.
All the modern ailments,” she drawled, emphasizing the doctor’s keenness for
the contemporary. “I know you’ve been feeling morose with your husband gone for
such long spells. I’ll introduce you.”
    Before Sophia could protest, Charlotte had called the doctor
over, and he complied with a confident nonchalance that set him apart from the
frenetic buzzing of the ballroom. Even more handsome up close, he exuded a
captivating warmth, and as he kissed Charlotte’s hand with a bow, Sophia felt a
flutter of envy. “Lady Banbury, how very wonderful to see you.” His bass voice
dripped charm. He flashed a raised brow at Sophia, revealing the most
magnificent eyes. Cerulean. The color of abandon on a summer’s day.
    The fluttering spread to her belly.
    “Dr. Christopher, likewise,” Charlotte twittered with glee. “I
would like to introduce my very dear friend, Mrs. Joseph Phillips, Lady Sophia.”
    Sophia offered her hand and the doctor took it gently, his
practiced touch sending an electrifying thrill surging through her, his