“Yes,” James said quietly, recalling the painful lessons learned when his father’s death had left him to rebuild his fortune amid closed doors and turned backs.
“Tell me,” Radbourne offered, his tone indicating he was ready for anything, even the gravest of requests. “Even if it’s a dead body you need help with, I am here. I’m certain Ambrose would join in, too.”
James chuckled, appreciating the loyalty. “Nothing so grave. I merely want you to find out, very discreetly, if Armstrong’s sister is at a ball tonight. And if so, which one.”
Radbourne’s mouth dropped open slightly, then he shook his head, a bemused expression crossing his features. “His sister?”
“Yes.”
“Do I want to know why?” Radbourne asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“I’m not too sure myself why I need to know,” James said, a voice inside him chiding softly. He ran a hand over his face.Bloody hell. “We had an encounter when she was a bit … intoxicated. I want to see where we stand without liquid courage loosening her tongue.”
“And you are interested because …” Radbourne prodded, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
“I find her fascinating,” James admitted, more to himself than to Radbourne.
His friend whistled softly. “Never say you have met your match. Will you marry—”
“Good God, no,” James cut him off quickly, the very thought startling him.
Radbourne raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, a grin playing on his lips as he turned to leave, the task set, and the challenge accepted.
James leaned against a Corinthian column, his eyes flickering over the throng of scandalously dressed attendees, as he waited for Radbourne to return with the information. During those few minutes, several ladies, adorned in their finest silks and jewels, approached him with veiled invitations to join them in conversation or dance. Each offer was met with a polite but firm refusal. His mind was preoccupied, his anticipation building like a low hum in his gut, an unusual feeling for him.
Finally, Radbourne reappeared at his side, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “That took all of my considerable charming skills. She is indeed at a ball, Lady Andrew’s.”
“Good,” James responded, a brief flash of relief passing through him, though his expression remained composed.
His friend’s eyes widened, a knowing look overtaking his features. “Ah ... it is that kind of interest.”
Without further discussion, James excused himself from the pleasure palace, his steps quickening as he headed to his waiting carriage. Once inside, he directed the coachman to the countess’s residence. Upon arriving, James bypassed the main ballroom and moved directly to a secluded terrace that overlooked the gardens, a spot that offered a strategic view of the ballroom through its open French doors. From this vantage point, he watched the swirling dance of gowns and coats, the room a kaleidoscope of color and light, until his eyes found Elizabeth.
She was in the midst of a lively quadrille, her smile subdued, but her moves exuberant and elegant. As he watched her move gracefully among her partners, a surprising emotion pricked at his chest—longing to be the one dancing with her, and something else he couldn’t quite name, an emotion that deepened with each turn she took.
James leaned against the cool stone balustrade, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth and allowed himself to simply watch her. She seemed so vibrant and full of life, her enjoyment palpable even from a distance. This artless innocence was a side of her he hadn’t anticipated being drawn to, yet there he was, unable to look away or deny the growing attraction.
As the music wound down and the dance concluded, Elizabeth made her way gracefully to the refreshment table. With a glass of champagne in hand, she mingled briefly, exchanging pleasantries with a young lady he did not recognize. Yet, it was clear from her restless glances toward the grand doors that Elizabeth was planning her exit. Subtly, she began to edge away from the thick of the crowd, her movements poised and discreet, until she finally slipped out of the ballroom altogether.
From his vantage point on the terrace, James watched with a heightened sense of curiosity as Elizabeth made her escape. He raised an eyebrow, impressed by her deftness. Turning around to survey the steps leading to the gardens, he wondered if she would choose the path that led directly below his spot. He didn’t have to wonder long; within moments, she appeared, stepping into the moonlight that seemed to cloak her in a soft radiance. The night air seemed to enhance her allure, casting her features into a play of light and shadow that captivated him completely.
She strolled toward shrubberied gardens at the back of the townhouse, to the garden area barely lit by a lone lantern, where she slowed her steps. James withdrew from the shadows and made his way down the terrace steps, his footsteps silent on the cool stone. As he approached, his anticipation built with each step.
Reaching deeper into the garden, he found her standing alone, and her face lifted to distant stars, lost in thought. Elizabeth stood under the soft glow of the moonlight, her appearance striking in a dark blue gown that melded beautifully with the night around her. The gown was cut in the latest fashion, hugging her figure gracefully at the waist before flowing out into a fuller skirt, which whispered against the grass with each subtle movement she made. Her hair was an artwork in itself, piled high in an elaborate arrangement of curls that framed her face beautifully.
James was shocked by the intense desire that suddenly pierced him. The soft rustle of his approach caused her to turn, and her expression shifted from contemplation to surprise and pleasure. The moonlight highlighted her features, adding a luminous quality to her skin and deepening the intensity in her eyes. Her prettiness once again struck his heart with considerable force, and to his shock, James felt … helplessly enthralled.
* * *
James,his name whispered through Elizabeth’s heart in a delighted cry of surprise. His evening clothes were exquisitely tailored to fit his elegant form; he looked the perfect gentleman with just an underlying touch of dangerous allure. Her heart racing, Elizabeth merely lowered into a curtsy and said, “Your Grace. I had not anticipated seeing you.”
“You have a habit of sneaking away from the dancing.”
“You have a habit of appearing wherever I am. You followed me.”
“My chivalrous nature, I’m afraid.”
She scoffed. “Chivalry?”
