“You were certainly accurate in your judgment! If you ever need rescuing yourself, do not hesitate to call on me.” Annabelle said the words lightly, but she meant them in dead earnest. She owed Alex far more than she could ever repay him.
* * *
Sybil Debenham had taken unusual care with her preparations for the Kingsley ball, starting her toilette a full six hours before the appointed time. As the host, Lord Kingsley would have to be in attendance all evening, and she felt sure that would give her some useful opportunities to attach him.
As she turned slowly in front of the cheval glass mirror, she could find no flaw in her appearance. The gauze overskirt was woven with tiny golden stars that floated over the shimmering silk dress below, her parure of diamonds and gold would attract attention anywhere. The simple pastoral style in vogue now was not for Sybil. Her mother came into her chamber as she was completing her survey and nodded approvingly. “Very good, Sybil. Lord Kingsley cannot fail to admire you. Have you heard the on-dit about his sister?”
Sybil gave a most unladylike snort. “That Sir Edward Loaming was seeking to fix the affections of a mouse like her? An unlikely story!”
Claudia Debenham said dryly, “She hasn’t your fashion flair, but I wouldn’t call her a mouse. They were seen walking in the park several times. My guess is that her brother found out and sent Sir Edward on his way.”
“More likely she was toogauchefor him. I don’t think there is another man in London with Sir Edward’s style. He cast a number of lures my way, you’ll recall,” Sybil said, giving her plump golden ringlets a complacent pat.
“The man’s a gazetted fortune hunter, so one can guess what attracted him to Miss Kingsley, and to you.”
Her daughter scowled. “Nonsense! Sir Edward was absolutely besotted with me. If he were more than a mere baronet, I would not have been at all averse to his suit.”
Her mother decided not to pursue the point. “I do trust you are making progress with Lord Kingsley?”
Sybil’s enchanting lower lip stuck out in an undeniable pout. “Not as much as I would like. I know he admires me, and shows me more attention than any other lady, but he seems to have no desire for further intimacy.”
“If you can’t attach him, you had better look around for someone else,” Claudia said dispassionately. “I heard they’re betting in the clubs whether you’ll land a title this year.” At Sybil’s shriek, she added with a trace of malice, “They’re calling you the ‘Luscious Loser.’”
Sybil spun around, abandoning her mirror image to glare at her mother. “That’s absolutelyoutrageous! And they call themselves gentlemen! Howdarethey!”
Claudia suddenly wished she hadn’t mentioned it; her daughter seemed likely to explode on the spot. She shrugged and said, “You know how men are, with their stupid ‘gentleman’s code.’ It makes no sense at all—they can be incredibly coarse about a woman, then call another man out for saying something that is no more insulting. There is no accounting for them.”
Sybil’s glare threatened to leave her mouth and eyes twisted into permanent slits. Then her face relaxed as something her mother had said set off a train of thought.The gentleman’s code. . . With a snap, she said, “I know how to land Kingsley. With any luck, this very night, but I’ll need your help.” She explained what she had in mind.
Claudia shook her head doubtfully. “I can’t say that I like it. And it’s chancy—what if he repudiates you?”
“He won’t,” Sybil said viciously. “The stupid rules men have won’t let him. ‘The Luscious Loser’ indeed! He’ll pay for that insult.”
“No one said Kingsley was involved in any betting. I must say, it doesn’t seem his style. He’s always been very gentlemanly.”
Sybil’s teeth were bared. “He’s a man, isn’t he?He’ll pay for all of them!”
* * *
Alex drew a quick breath as Annabelle came down the winding stairs to meet him. She walked like a queen, her crown of golden tresses bound with Grecian ribbons, curls spilling down her back. Her cream-colored dress had the elegance of absolute simplicity, falling about her graceful figure in a manner that hinted rather than boldly advertised. Around her neck was a single strand of pearls, Alex’s birthday gift to her. He offered her his arm.
“Belle, you are breathtaking,” he complimented. “Are you ready to conquer London?”
She took his arm and smiled back. “I spent the afternoon following Christa’s advice. She said that when you wish to be especially lovely, lie down andthinkyourself beautiful.”
Alex chuckled. “She said that? It seems to have worked.”
“You are rather breathtaking yourself,” Annabelle pointed out. “There is something about a uniform.”
Alex had chosen to wear his captain’s dress uniform and was resplendent in navy blue and gold braid, the expert tailoring setting off his wide shoulders and lordly height to perfection. He chuckled. “I’m sure that if you surveyed the young ladies who will be attending, they would agree that a navy uniform is not to be compared with that of a Hussar. Shall we go and greet our guests?”
It was soon clear that the evening was going to be one of the most successful social events of the Little Season. The Arabian decorations were greatly admired and apparently everyone who had received a card had decided to attend. The ball even attained the exalted height of being declared “a sad crush.”
If some of the guests wanted to see Miss Kingsley wearing the willow for Sir Edward Loaming, their hopes were dashed; the guest of honor was convincingly lighthearted. Annabelle was charming to older guests of both sexes, found partners for less popular young ladies, and distributed her dances impartially to the crowd of men who surrounded her when she was not otherwise engaged. She accepted even the most fulsome compliments graciously, her behavior never crossing the line of what was proper for a miss making her come out.
Alex was proud of her. Hard to believe that a week ago she had been so emotionally devastated that she would not even leave her room. Only he could see the trace of defiance in her manner, as if daring anyone to think that she could have lost her heart to a fortune hunter.
He was feeling lighthearted himself, having shared a few too many toasts to his sister’s health. He did some dancing but spent more time talking to guests and unobtrusively overseeing the ball. He decided that it was not all that different from managing a ship; here he merely dealt with French pastries and footmen rather than salt pork and sailors.
