“Do you know her?” Charlotte noticed the elegance of her light blue dress that complemented her grey eyes and pale skin. She seemed almost shy as she hid behind her brother’s bulky figure, hiding from the gaze of people she didn’t know.
“I met her once at a high tea; she’s quite reserved but amiable; that man must be her older brother. Her name is Rose Ashburton,” Isabella’s words trailed off as the dark-haired stranger’s eyes suddenly locked with hers, holding her gaze as a light blush spread over her cheeks.
Charlotte instantly began to wonder if he would ask her friend to dance, yet her eyes wandered back to Jameson Sinclair, the handsome and mysterious stranger. Would her uncle allow her to dance with him if he happened to ask her to dance?
She swallowed hard and licked over her lips as his gaze swept over her body and rested on her face.
***
Jameson sighed heavily, tearing his gaze away from the young woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. There had been something magnetic in her gaze, as if her soul composed a melody that played through her eyes. His attention, however, was violently and obtrusively demanded by his sister’s best friend.
Henrietta Carter was a plain girl of twenty with brown hair and eyes. Her long nose often reminded Jameson of a bird, not that she was unattractive by any means; her peers often envied her slight waist and slender figure. It was her high energy levels and forward manner that often tired Jameson out. The fact that her mass of curly hair had been piled atop her head did little to sway his mind from thoughts of flamingos and peacocks.
“I’m so glad you could make the ball this evening, My Lord. I said to my mother yesterday that the evening would be a disaster if you didn’t come.
Mama had to drag me down the stairs this morning when she said she wasn’t certain if you would be attending or not,” Henrietta happily chattered on as Jameson nodded with a polite smile, fluttering her eyelashes at him and pouting her lips in a seductive manner that didn’t quite hold the effect she desired.
Elizabeth Sinclair bumped her brother’s arm lightly when she noticed his attention wandering from the conversation again. Her dark blonde hair hung down her back in an intricate braid as her lithe figure elegantly displayed her silver embroidered dress. Yet it was her eyes that stood out the most, brilliant blue orbs that strongly resembled her brother’s.
“You must promise to finally let me have that dance this evening, Jameson. You were such a tease at your parents’ ball last month. Now I must leave and help Mama greet the rest of our guests, but I will be waiting for you.”
Henrietta batted her eyelashes and sauntered off after her mother, seductively swaying her hips.
“When exactly did I offer her a dance?” Jameson leaned to the side and asked his sister in a hushed tone.
“Last month at the ball that Mama and Papa threw before the season started.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Really, Jameson, you should pay more attention to your conversations. Henrietta has been looking forward to this dance all month,” she said, scolding him in a mother-like manner that did little to improve his mood.
Taking a deep breath, Jameson tried his best to recall the promise he had made to his sister’s best friend. It must have occurred in one of the moments when he was trying to escape her incessant chatter. It wasn’t news to him that Henrietta and his sister had long been trying to form an alliance where he was concerned. His usual approach to dealing with the matter was to pretend that his attention was sorely needed elsewhere.
“Must she wear such flamboyant dresses?” Jameson barely hid his laughter when a passing guest commented on the hideous and sickly green colour of the girl’s dress.
“Henrietta adores brighter colours. Don’t disappoint me and go back on your promise,” Elizabeth hissed through her teeth before gliding away in the direction of her friend, ignoring her brother’s remarks about Henrietta’s dress.
“You look as if you’d rather be fighting in the trenches.” Michael Ashburton smirked at his friend as he came closer with his younger sister in tow, glaring at guests in passing with a mistrustful look.
“I think I’d rather be mucking out the horse stalls at this point.” Jameson reached for a glass of punch being carried by an eager young footman before greeting his friend and younger sister with a bow.
“I don’t blame you. The only reason I am here this evening is to act as chaperone to Rose.” Michael smiled and reached for a drink of his own before nodding to his sister, who seemed to be preoccupied as she stood by shyly, glancing at the other guests. The grey dress she wore shone in the light of the chandelier as if the fabric had been embroidered with silk, giving her pale skin an even fainter appearance.
Jameson noticed the way his friend suddenly locked eyes with a young woman from across the floor. She seemed giddy with rosy cheeks, utterly absorbed in conversation with the hazel-eyed woman he’d noticed before. It wasn’t often that Michael Ashburton noticed any of the women that London had to offer.
His heart had once been broken a few years prior. The woman he had fallen for chose wealth over affection when better opportunities had come knocking.
Jameson felt for the man; it couldn’t have been easy to love and lose the one you admired to things as superficial as money and status.
“You should ask her to dance.” Rose interrupted his pattern of thought as she bumped her brother in the side with her elbow.
“Who?” Michael tore his gaze away from the woman in white and frowned at his sister as if he hadn’t realized that he’d been staring.
“The woman you were so clearly staring at, brother. I wouldn’t mind if you asked her to dance; I’m sure she’d say yes,” Rose added encouragingly with a warm smile. It was clear to all who knew them that Rose simply doted on her elder brother, idolizing him as a hero in her mind.
Michael seemed thoughtful for a moment, chewing his lower lip before stroking his chin. He’d often said that it would take an exceptional woman to convince him that love and affection were worth the heartache that was at stake.
“I think you should do it. You can provide me with a much-needed distraction while I dance with Lady Henrietta.” Jameson clapped him on the back and sighed heavily in sympathy for himself and the endless chatter he would have to endure.
Chuckling lightly, Michael turned to his friend. “Has Lady Elizabeth’s scheming finally revealed its fruits?” he asked his friend in a mocking tone, smiling to himself. The topic of Elizabeth and Henrietta was one of constant mocking and ridicule between them in private.
“Apparently, I promised her a dance at the last ball we attended. I need to take note of the promises I make in an attempt to escape harassment,” Jameson grumbled, hating himself for landing in an uncomfortable situation.
