“No need to push her, my lady,” he murmured, smiling as he passed. “I promise I don’t bite… unless invited.”
The poor girl turned crimson. The matron’s fan snapped open in outrage. Somewhere behind him, a gentleman coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
And with that, the evening felt properly underway.
Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come tonight. But his friend Sebastian, the Duke of Ravenscourt, had written that maddening note—“You owe us your attendance. Margaret insists.”And no one refused Margaret when she insisted.
“Speak of the devil,” Sebastian drawled, grinning as Edward approached them. “I thought perhaps the scandal sheets had swallowed you whole.”
“Not yet,” Edward said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Though I did see a headline declaring I’d run away with a soprano. If only I remember it.”
Margaret, elegant even when laughing, shook her head. “You could try living a dull life, you know. It might confuse them.”
“I did once,” he quipped. “I was twelve. Hated every minute of it.”
Sebastian chuckled. “God help us.”
“Well, look at yourself,” Edward said with a gleam in his eyes. “ I leave you alone for one season, and you’ve become respectable.”
Sebastian let out a groan. “I was respectable long before you arrived, Wrexford.”
“True,” Edward said, reaching for the champagne on the refreshment table next to them and pouring himself a glass.. “And look where that got you—marriage, a cat, and an alarming fondness for nursery schedules.”
Margaret laughed softly. “You see, Edward, not everyone measures success by the quality of their hangovers.”
“Ah, but they do measure stories by them,” he said easily. “And I daresay mine are better told.”
Margaret arched an eyebrow. “You meanwritten, surely. I heard Miss Verity had quite a time dismantling one of yours last week.”
“Did she?” He sipped, feigning innocence. “I stopped reading after the first ‘shocking lack of restraint.’ I rather liked the sound of it.”
Sebastian chuckled. “You would.”
“Of course. If one must be infamous, it’s best to be good at it.”
Edward’s grin lingered for a heartbeat. He smirked, but didn’t quite feel it. There were too many eyes tonight, too much expectation in the air, as though he might pick up a violin and turn the evening into a performance.
He toyed with the rim of his glass, letting the bubbles catch his attention, mostly to keep himself busy, when he saw her.
Beatrice Moreland.
The candlelight caught the faint gold in her hair, and though she wasn’t the most daringly dressed woman in the room, she was the one who held it still. She stood near the refreshments table, listening to idle chatter, her back straight, her expression polite and slightly distant.
And when she glanced his way, just briefly, her composure wavered. Not much, but enough for him to catch it.
Edward smiled into his glass. So shehadnoticed him.
“Well,” he said lightly, setting his glass aside, “it seems this evening has just gotten better.”
Sebastian followed his gaze and muttered, “Do try not to start a war, Wrexford.”
“Me? Never.” Edward set his empty glass on the tray of a passing servant. “I merely enjoy a good debate.”
Margaret followed his gaze, then sighed. “Be kind to my cousin, Edward.”
“Always,” he said, already moving.
The crowd seemed to part for him, or perhaps he was simply practiced at ignoring obstacles.
