“You’re not my mother, Diana! Leave me alone!” Grace shot back, turning just long enough to make her point before disappearing into the throng. Diana knew that she could not chase after her sister without drawing attention to themselves; already, she sensed the eyes of other ladies and gentlemen around them on her, as she stood alone. No doubt it was clear to anyone standing nearby that they were having a disagreement, even though Diana had tried to be as discreet as possible. She had had quite enough of being the topic of everyone’s gossip; she did not want to give the ladies of the ton even more to talk about in whispers behind their fans.
But Grace’s words had struck Diana like a physical blow, and she was not sure that she could take much more of her sister’s anger. Diana had always taken on the role of protector, the one who guided her sister through the complexities of society. And since their mother’s death, she had given up on all hope of her own happiness and focused everything on Grace. But her sister had thrown it all back in her face.
Diana allowed herself a tiny, rare moment of doubt. Perhaps Grace was right. Diana stood on the edge of the dance floor and watched as other couples made their way through the dance, exchanging smiles and laughter, and longing glances. Where had all her practical sense got her? Nowhere, that was where.
At one point, last season, she had thought that she was close to reaching an agreement with the Duke of Holloway, but that had all come to nothing. He had married another lady, and she hadhad to live with the shame of everyone knowing that he had not chosen her.
And now she was certain that people were looking at her – a group of society mamas nearby were definitely watching her, and she could sense their pity. She felt a flush of shame as she realized that they felt sorry for her. She knew that people considered her to be a confirmed spinster now, with no hope of finding a match.
Had she played it all wrong, she wondered? But as she looked around the ballroom again, at all the young ladies who seemed to be having no trouble enchanting their suitors, she saw that none of them were as beautiful or as elegant as Grace. No, she needed to keep her focus. Grace would make a stellar match this season, and Diana would do whatever it took to make it happen. Her own hopes of happiness were long gone, but it was better not to dwell on her own unspoken dreams. Perhaps it was best to forget them altogether, in fact.
She would go after Grace in a little while, she resolved, and try to mend the rift that had opened between them. They were close, though, and she was sure that her sister would come around soon to her way of thinking. Instead, she took a deep breath and made her way to the edge of the ballroom, seeking solace in the shadows where the light and laughter faded into a distant echo. She would pause for a moment, gather her thoughts and regain her resolve. Then she would go and find Grace, and redouble her efforts to make the most of the evening.
CHAPTER 2
“My Lord Everton,” Lady Eliza purred. “You are here at last. We had quite given up on you!”
Tristan shrugged. “Forgive me, Lady Eliza, if my tardiness has caused you distress. I had a great many things to attend to today, and the time quite slipped away from me.”
He may well have affected carelessness, but Tristan could not help but enjoy the sensation of eyes upon him as he entered the ballroom. He always enjoyed this moment, standing at the entrance, taking in the view: a sea of silks and satins swirling in a delicate dance as laughter and music filled the air. This evening he had been rather late, but there were always so many things to do, and he knew that his lateness only made him all the more intriguing. Lord and Lady Harrington would not mind his tardiness. They would simply be grateful that he had made time to attend their ball.
On arrival, he had stepped into the room and traversed the marble floor, looking around him as he went to ascertain which of the important families of the ton were there tonight. The Harringtons’ ball was a big event, a highlight of the season for many, and as he scanned the room he saw Lord Bretherton and his wife, the Duke of Ellington and his new duchess, and various other ladies and gentlemen of his acquaintance.
It was not long before he was approached by Lady Eliza Bretherton, followed by a gaggle of her friends. They were old acquaintances, having met many times over the years at various balls and parties, and they fell into their usual flirtatious banter.
Lady Eliza let out a chuckle. “You credit yourself with far too much importance, My Lord,” she protested. “I was not in the least distressed. Merely curious.”
Tristan smiled and held the lady’s gaze for a moment. There was no serious attachment between them, but he enjoyed flirting with her, and with any other lady who came his way. He was well aware of the whispers that followed him wherever he went. A rake, they called him, a charmer who wore his reputation like a well-tailored coat. In reality he felt the label to be unfair; he would never behave in a truly dishonorably fashion. But he could not resist the thrill of the chase.
“Well I trust that your curiosity is now satisfied, My Lady,” he replied. He allowed his eyes to sweep her up and down. Her gown was a cascade of lavender, draped elegantly over her figure, and her eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked onto his.
“Not at all,” she said. “I want to hear all about your escapades.”
He grinned. “My escapades? You must not believe everything you hear about me, Lady Eliza. I am too often cast as the villain, I fear.”
“Would you prefer to be a hero, then?” she asked.
He was just about to reply when the Countess of Bretherton, Lady Eliza’s somewhat formidable mother, appeared next to them.
“Eliza, my dear, come away this minute!” she said firmly, taking Eliza’s arm and attempting to pull her away from Tristan.
A frown crossed the young lady’s pretty face. “But Mother, I was talking to the earl!” she protested.
“Well,” Lady Bretherton said with a cough. “That’s as may be, but the duke is here, and I believe that he is keen to dance with you.”
Tristan smiled knowingly and gave a slight bow. “Lady Eliza, perhaps you will honor me with a dance later on this evening,” he said softly, staring into her eyes and enjoying the blush that crept up her cheeks as he spoke to her. “But for now I consider myself outranked. Enjoy your dance with the duke!”
She giggled and turned away, following her mother to where the Duke of Ellington was standing chatting with Lord Bretherton.
Outranked indeed! He knew full well that was not the reason that her mother did not want her speaking to him. He was an earl himself, after all, and a perfectly eligible match for such a lady as Lady Eliza. But his reputation meant that all the mamas of the ton were cautious of him. And perhaps that was a good thing, he thought. At least it meant that none of them were thrusting their daughters in his way, trying to persuade him to marry them. Of course, in the end he would get married; it was necessary for a man of his station. But not yet. And he would choose carefully and wisely.
He felt a rather hollow sense of emptiness sweeping through him as he looked around the crowded ballroom. It was all so insipid, so noisy. He wished for a moment that he could flee the scene entirely. But before he had the chance to indulge in his thoughts, he felt a splash of cold liquid against his shoulder.
“What the devil—?” He spun around, irritation prickling at his skin, and found himself face to face with a lady of almost indescribable beauty.
“Oh, I am so sorry…” the young lady said, her cheeks flushing crimson. “My Lord?” she added tentatively.
It occurred to Tristan that she did not know who he was, and for a moment, he felt a surge of relief. If she did not know who he was, she would have no preconceptions about him. He saw her distress, though, and decided to relieve her of the awkwardness of not knowing who she was speaking to.
