“You are right, of course,” he finally answered Morley. “I’m as guilty as the next in that I ignored women of her position before.”
But not any longer, he vowed.
• • •
Yet another ball. Another chance to stand or sit about with nothing better to do. I must be getting rather good at pretending to be a potted plant, Imogen thought with a bit of wry amusement.
She stood beside a row of seated matrons, her mother among them. Already Mariah twirled about on the floor, all grace and sweetness. Her sister spotted her as she passed close by in the arms of her partner. She grinned and rolled her eyes. Imogen smiled back, watching as Mariah was swept away in a turn. Imogen loved all of her siblings equally, but since Frances’s marriage she had become especially close to Mariah. Though the girl was younger than her by eight years, she always felt the need to be Imogen’s champion and protector. It frustrated Mariah to no end that others could not seem to see her sister.
“I vow,” she had proclaimed to Imogen just that afternoon as they had returned from a drive in the park, “I will accept no man unless he treats you with respect. I shall accept no offer of marriage unless the man shows you the common courtesy of acknowledging your presence.”
Mariah was of course referring to her disgust of the last hour, in which a great number of gentlemen had ridden up to the Tarryton carriage to pay their respects. Mariah had made a point of forcing each of her admirers to greet Imogen. But as each of them had slid their eyes over her older sister briefly with the barest nod before returning their full attention to her, Mariah’s ire had grown.
Imogen had placed her gloved hand over Mariah’s and given it a squeeze. “It has always been thus, even when I was eighteen and fresh on the marriage mart. Don’t worry yourself over it. I’m quite used to it by now.”
“Used to it? You may be, but I will never get used to it. No, unless I can find a man who can be decent and kind to you, my dearest sister, I will not accept his hand.”
Imogen had been touched. But secretly she thought that Mariah would be in for a long wait.
She was pulled from her musings as she was jostled from the side. She caught herself against the wall, but only just. The gentleman who had bumped into her gave her only the faintest glance and a mumbled excuse before he moved off to join his group. Imogen sighed. No, she was quite invisible.
She stilled. Just how invisible was she? She quickly made a face and then looked about furtively. While most people about her were blurry, those close to her showed not the slightest hint of having seen her.
Feeling her daring grow, she grabbed her skirts in both hands, her feet flashing as she performed a jaunty little dance step. Not even her mother acknowledged her, and the woman was seated beside her. She stifled a laugh behind her gloved hand. Truly? She was that invisible?
There must be a certain freedom in no one noticing you. Her sister was always watched, her every move commented on. If she was less than flawlessly groomed, her manners less than perfectly polite, it would be talked about by all and sundry. Such was not the case for herself, however.
And so, lifting her skirts, she performed a small but perfectly executed twirl.
A low chuckle behind her made her stumble and gasp. And then a warm hand was on her arm, helping to steady her, and she was looking up into Lord Willbridge’s laughing gray eyes.
Chapter 4
Caleb had thought, after seeing Imogen rudely jostled and thrown off balance, that he would be playing the white knight in pushing through the throng and coming to her aid. He was proved wrong, however, as he came closer and caught sight of her performing a surreptitious little jig, followed by a smothered laugh. Relief and a spurt of humor ran through him. Behind her calm exterior there seemed to hide a bit of a minx.
Grinning, he came up to her just as she was completing a beautiful little twirl. The laugh that escaped him was completely involuntary, and he was sorry a moment later when she stumbled because of it.
He steadied her. “I don’t know who your partner was, but I’m quite envious of him.”
She blushed furiously and looked down at her toes. He hooked one finger under her chin and forced her gaze back up.
“No,” he gently chided, “I’ll not have you go back into hiding. I quite liked the lady I met so unexpectedly in Lord Tarryton’s drawing room, and I would very much like to see her again. Is she still in there, do you suppose?”
To his delight Imogen burst out in a small, surprised laugh. “I’m afraid most people are not privy to that particular lady.”
His smile grew. “Well, you may tell her I feel all the privilege of having glimpsed her then, even for so short a time.”
“You should feel so,” she quipped. Her eyes widened as if just realizing her own audacity.
He laughed quietly. “It was quite an unexpected thing, to finally be gifted with your identity. I searched far and wide for it, you may be assured.”
She cocked one eyebrow in disbelief. But there was also something else lurking in her turquoise eyes. Hope, perhaps?
“No, I truly did,” he insisted. “Well, as far and wide as one morning would allow.”
“You can be assured that if I had known running pell-mell through a dark garden was a way to secure a man’s attentions, I would have done it years ago.” Her expression was serious, but there was a teasing light in her eyes that lit up her entire face.
He liked her. He truly did. There was something wonderfully substantial about her, and she had a surprising sense of humor that completely caught him off guard. The dark cloud that seemed to constantly shadow him disappeared for a moment.
