“Max, dear chap.”
The hail from behind him was not particularly welcome. He turned. “Evening, Dancey.”
“I haven’t seen much of you lately,” commented the younger man, moving alongside Max as he walked toward the ballroom.
“I’m sure we’ve both been busy.” It was a curt response, but the only one Max felt like making.
“Indeed.” Miller-James sounded hesitant. “Well then, I’ll be seeing you later, I’m sure.”
“Of such wishes are dreams made,” answered Max obscurely. He found his distaste almost palpable and wondered at himself as the other man left his side. Had he developed a conscience? Was he growing old? Shaking off the horrid notion, along with the urge to find a mirror and check for grey hairs, he found a spot at the side of the ballroom and surveyed the swirling throng.
They were waltzing, and although the dance was still regarded as rather shocking by a few, it had been wholeheartedly embraced by the many. The brilliantmêléeof colors, costumes, gems and feathers was the result, moving like the surface of some fantastical lake buffeted by a strong wind.
Since identities were concealed by masks and costumes, Max had no idea who might be clasped in who’s arms, or what husband might be holding another woman far too close—right under his wife’s nose. Many men had opted for the safe anonymity of black—as had Max. The folds of his cloak and the mask hiding his features offered the chance to enjoy a dalliance with anyone of his choosing.
But there was only one woman his gaze sought amongst the crowd. And he knew, if she was present, he would be able to distinguish her from the throng.
He’d discovered there wassomethingabout Kitty Ridlington that lifted her above the rank and file of theTon. He was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to find out what thatsomethingwas.
Several women met his initial criteria…elegant style, good dancer, right height, right hair color…but none of them tweaked that single nerve in Max’s brain. The one that said quite clearly “her”. It would appear she either had not yet arrived, or was somewhere else in the building.
Somewhat disheartened, he was about to turn away from the view when his eye was attracted to a domino that seemed to be all colors of the rainbow. He craned his head for a better look—and that little annoying nerve tingled. It was Kitty.
Her hood and cloak were purple, but it was the sort of fabric that shone in many different shades depending on the light. Rather like the breast of a full grown pigeon—one that could go from green to blue to purple as it flew down to the ground and landed.
Unique amongst the vivid throng she was easy to follow, and his eyes did just that. From one group of people to another, she moved smoothly and without pause, her head moving now and again as if she too sought someone. Max was vain enough to hope it might be him.
But he made no move to attract her attention; he was content to observe at this point.
The music changed to a more stately measure and he saw her accept the hand of a masked and bearded gentleman. Lord Standish, thought Max, recognising the pure white beard. A man of intelligence, widely regarded with favor by many in the government, and at least twice Kitty’s age.
He knew it was absurd, but he found himself heaving a sigh of relief anyway.
As he watched, he noticed Miss Hecate also engaged in the dance. His eyes narrowed as he searched for Dancey; odds were good that he was around somewhere, unless he’d foregone his previous intention of seducing her.
He cursed beneath his breath since he found he could not recall Dancey’s garb. Did he even look at the man? He didn’t think so. Now, of course, that was a damned nuisance because he could be anything from a pirate to a Harlequin to one of the many men in a simple mask and domino.
As the final measures of the dance concluded, Max gave up the task of seeking Dancey, and returned his attention to Kitty. She was now with a small group at one side of the ballroom, but her attention seemed to be on the guests rather than her companions. She frequently glanced around, tilted her head and surveyed the colourful throng.
Then her eyes found him. Max almost felt the impact as they settled on his face. She smiled a little, nodded, and then returned to her conversation. All quite casual and most proper.
And not what Max intended at all.
