“Do you know if he’s about?”
“I did not meet him in the receiving line.”
“They say he’s quit London.” Lady Victoria pouted. “We’re so hoping it’s not true.”
“Although it’s also rumored he has taken up residence elsewhere rather than in his usual London abode, because, according to my brother, he does still make an appearance at Parliament when needed,” Lady Penelope added. “So we were very much anticipating he’d be in attendance. He promised each of us a dance when we called on him.”
“You called on him?”
“Mmm. I don’t think there’s an unmarried lady in London who didn’t.”
Which might account for his quitting London. She felt rather uncomfortable that she, too, had been wishing for a moment with him in order to express her condolences.
“I’m not really surprised we’ve yet to encounter him at a ball. My older sister told me that in some circles he’s known as Rosemont the Recluse. She knew Lady Rosemont, you see, and said she often attended affairs without him. My sister was actually quite taken aback by the devotion expressed in the countess’s letter. Did you happen to come across it?”
“I did, yes.”
She sighed melodramatically. “I think we all want a man to love us like that.”
“Ladies.”
At the deep voice, Fancy turned and gave a small curtsy. “Lord Dearwood.”
“How did you remember his name?” Lady Penelope asked, and it seemed Lord Rosemont was quite forgotten.
Young buck with a wooden smile.“Stag in the woods,” she said instead.
“How clever!” Lady Penelope enthused. “But I would have gone with deer in the forest.”
“There’s no right or wrong,” she assured the young lady. “It’s whatever will help you remember.”
“What’s this, then?” Lord Dearwood asked.
“Miss Trewlove plays a game so she can remember everyone’s name.”
“Well, not everyone’s,” she said, heat warming her cheeks. “Sometimes it doesn’t work and I forget what I associated with the person and think it would have been simpler to memorize the name.”
“I’d like to hear about that game at some point, but for now, Miss Trewlove, I was hoping you’d honor me with a dance.”
The three ladies gave a gleeful squeal before skittering away. Definitely younger than she was.
Fancy smiled at Lord Dearwood. He wasn’t unattractive, was probably as old as her brothers, and something about him indicated he was a man who enjoyed far too much vice or at least food and wine. Perhaps it was the way the buttons on his waistcoat were straining against the cloth. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
Offering his arm, he led her to the edge of the dance floor. “We’ll wait for the waltz to end, shall we?”
“Would you mind signing my card whilst we wait? I thought to keep it as a souvenir.”
“Certainly.”
As she watched him scrawl his name, she couldn’t help but think of a man with larger hands, longer fingers, more elegance in his movements. She really needed to rid herself of thoughts of Mr. Sommersby. “Are you enjoying the ball thus far?”
“Oh yes, especially now that you’ll be dancing with me.”
She felt the heat of a blush rushing up from her décolletage into her hairline at the flattering words that were spoken with such sincerity. “That’s exceedingly kind of you to say, my lord.”
“Not at all. I owed your brother a bloody fortune.”
Everything within her stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
