“The rest of us will shoulder your load, then, cousin,” Lucien said, intercepting Shakespeare and handing the terrier to the butler. “Don’t wait up for us, Wimbole,” he instructed.
The butler nodded. “Very good, my lord.”
They climbed into the coach, the earl seating himself opposite Alexandra as he usually did. She hurriedly looked away, busying herself with last-minute instructions and reminders for Rose. His mere presence was enough to put her on edge with nervous excitement. A little less nervousness tonight would have been quite all right.
“Do you think Prince George will be there?” Rose asked. “What if he asks me to dance?” Her blue eyes widened. “What if he asks me to waltz?”
“Step on his foot,” the earl suggested. “That’ll make him leave you alone.”
“Lucien!” Fiona chastised. “Oh, I’m so nervous. Smile as much as you can, my dear.”
Alexandra cleared her throat. “If His Majesty asks you to waltz, curtsy and thank him, and then inform him that you are not yet out. If he persists, waltz with him. He is the Regent, after all.”
“Will Lord Belton be there, do you think?”
“Yes, he’ll be there.” Lucien glanced at his pocket watch.
“Don’t forget, my dear, your dance card is already full.”
“Oh, no! What shall I do if he wants—”
“He may have my dance,” Kilcairn offered as he faced the window, looking like nothing so much as a black panther desperately wanting out of his cage.
“No, he may not!” Fiona burst out. “You must dance with your cousin!”
“I’ll dance with whomever I please, Aunt.”
Mrs. Delacroix began picking at the delicate lace on her sleeve. “Oh, no,” she fretted. “Miss Gallant said you must dance with Rose, or she’ll never make a good match. You promised, Lu—”
He threw his hands up. “All right! Just stop cackling for a moment.”
By the time the coach jockeyed into the crowd of vehicles aiming for the drive at Bentley House and pulled them up to the door, Alexandra’s imagined headache had become real. She was more than happy to disembark from the coach and take a deep breath of cool night air.
“Lex, stay close by me,” Rose whispered, wrapping her arm around her companion’s. “There are so many people, I don’t even know who to look at first.”
“First, look at your host and hostess,” Alexandra suggested. “After that, look at whomever you want. All of the young gentlemen will be looking at you.”
“Or at the liquor table,” Lucien put in from over her shoulder.
He was relentless. “Oh, look,” Alexandra said, gesturing toward the packed entry to the ballroom, “it’s Julia Harrison. Isn’t she on your list of finalists, my lord?”
To her surprise, he gave the young woman only a disinterested glance. “Time for that torture later.” He handed their invitation to a waiting footman and ushered them into the ballroom.
“The whole world is here,” Rose breathed, holding Alexandra’s arm tightly.
“The best part of it is,” Mrs. Delacroix agreed happily. “Everyone’s simply glittering.”
Alexandra was more interested in Kilcairn’s conversation. “You’ve given up looking for a bride, then?” A small, very well hidden part of her fluttered into excited life.
“Not a bit.” He gestured for a glass of port.
The delicate, fluttering thing flopped over and died. “Ah. Just not tonight, then.”
His sensuous lips curled into a smile. “Not exactly. My search has narrowed to the point that I can conclude the interviewing. I’m nearly ready to enter into negotiations.”
The headache began pounding at her skull with renewed enthusiasm. “Well, congratulations. I never thought you would find one, much less several. How will you make your final decision?”
Lucien shook his head, his gaze unreadable. “I haven’t determined that yet, though I have a few ideas.”
