Thiswas how she’d draw the scene tonight to send home.
To give her family a sense of the opulence, she’d make the pyramid of crystal goblets and the tower of little cakes rise taller than the footmen serving them. She would draw the lords and ladies right where they were, but add herself among them as though she were having the time of her life.
She wished such a treat were possible.
It was difficult to convey how the music from the orchestra seeped in through her toes and seemed to fill her completely, but she would sketch as many musicians and instruments in the background as she could fit onto the paper. In fact, she’d caption this one—
“Oh!” Wet liquid splashed onto her brand new gloves as the overfull goblet of lemonade collided with a passing gentleman’s elbow.
Drat her daydreaming. Would her cheeks ever cease heating in embarrassment? Lost in another artistic reverie, she must have leaned away from the wainscoting and right into the path of the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Bright hazel eyes. Dark brown hair. Starched cravat. Silver waistcoat. Elbow dripping with the finest lemonade in London.
“I’m so sorry,” Nora gasped, mortified.
“Nonsense. ’Tis nothing.” As casually as if lords like him regularly spent their days dodging goblets of all sorts, the gentleman drew a perfectly creased, blindingly white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his tailored dark gray jacket. Rather than apply the square of linen to his own elbow, he handed the handkerchief to Nora with a charming smile. “For your glove.”
Her heart skipped. She accepted the pristine cloth not because her soiled glove was in any way more important than the gentleman’s wet elbow, but because she was tempted to hide her face behind it until she disappeared into the floor.
“Thank you.” She dabbed at her glove with a light hand, careful not to actually touch the damp parts, lest she stain the gentleman’s handkerchief. She handed it back as fast as she could. “Here. For your arm.”
He smiled as he pressed the linen square to his elbow. “I rather like it. Perhaps I will start a new fashion, and make it all the crack for gentlemen to gad about with wet spots on one’s arm.”
Nora couldn’t return his smile; she was trying too hard to keep her shaking fingers from splashing even more lemonade over them both.
What was she meant to do? He was the first Society gentleman who had ever spoken to her. Now what was she meant to say? Her head filled instantly with all the wrong things.
You are so handsome I cannot think properlydid not seem the most prudent tack. Nor did babbling that he might truly be able to start such a trend, given the shocking number of young ladies of his class who dampened their bodices in the retiring room to display their assets more clearly.
She hunched her shoulders self-consciously. Was that the sort of woman men like him preferred?
Heaven help her. She’d crashed into him with a glass of lemonade and all she could think about was whether she should have dampened her bodice before doing so.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. “It won’t happen again.”
“I hope it does,” he said cheerfully. “One meets new faces much more efficiently this way, rather than mucking through all the proper channels to wrangle formal introductions. It can be our secret handshake. The next time you wish to speak with me, just dribble a few drops on the other side, and you’ll have my undivided attention.”
Proper channels.
Formal introduction.
Oh no. She sucked in a breath. He thought she was of his class! “My lord, I am afraid I’m not—”
A sudden swell of music swept through the ballroom.
“Oh, dear.” The gentleman glanced over his shoulder and waved at someone through the crowd assembling on the dance floor. “I cannot dally. Indeed, my attentions are promised for the next few sets. I hope your card isn’t full by the time we’re properly presented.”
Her what? She stared at him blankly.
“Alas, there’s no more time. I cannot leave my partner waiting.” He sent her one last apologetic look as he edged away. “I’ll find you as soon as I can beg a true introduction. With luck, you’ll still have a spot free.”
With that, he disappeared into the throngs flocking toward the orchestra to dance the next musical set.
Nora gazed after him speechlessly.
Her card.
A spot free.
