Dragging his gaze from the dance floor, Jamie forced his attention back to them. “What news?”
“You tell him,” Toby nudged Anthony.
“No, you—”
“For pity’s sake, someone speak,” Jamie snapped.
“Evie and Liberty are with child,” Anthony said, grinning.
“Both?” His friends nodded, and Jamie pulled them into an embrace right there in the ballroom. “That is wonderful news. Congratulations.” He meant it. He might never have his own happy ending, but he was glad his friends had found theirs.
“It’s both terrifying and exciting,” Toby admitted, looking slightly pale.
“I should imagine so. But don’t look now because your three aunts are approaching from the right, Anthony,” Jamie said.
The three women bearing down on them were important to them all. Though Anthony’s relations, it had been their intervention that had transformed Blackwood from hell into something bearable.
“Ah, look at this, sisters, three of the most handsome men in all of society,” Aunt Petunia declared. She always wore lavender.
“They are indeed,” Aunt Agatha said, her peach gown glowing under the chandeliers.
“Your necktie is crooked, Anthony,” Aunt Lavinia added. She favored shades of green. “Honestly, what was your valet thinking to let you leave the house in such disarray?”
Lavinia fussed over her nephew’s necktie right there in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by the loftiest members of society.
“Jamie, how are you?” Agatha asked.
Suddenly, he was the focus of three pairs of eyes.
“Well, thank you. And you?” he said.
“Excellent, excellent,” Lavinia said. “Now, dear, we’ve been thinking.”
Three words that never boded well for anyone, Jamie thought as the hair on the back of his neck rose. They were up to something. One glance at his smirking friends confirmed it.
“Must go. I promised this next dance to Lady Alice Smythe,” Jamie said, escaping.
“Oh, but we have something to give you!” Agatha called after him.
Jamie raised a hand and fled in the opposite direction. Looking back to ensure they weren’t following, he didn’t see the woman stepping directly into his path. Rather than knock her over, he caught her around the waist and kept walking. Stopping a few steps later, he set her down.
“Sorry…” The word died as he looked into the amber eyes of Lady Alice.
“Why are you constantly trying to knock me off my feet, my lord?” she hissed, smoothing her skirts.
Around them, onlookers who had paused now turned back to their conversations.
“My apologies, my lady. I did not see you.”
“Again?” she snapped. “Perhaps you should look where you’re going, Lord Stafford.”
“I shall take your words under advisement. Are you free for this dance, my lady?”
She looked startled, so much so that her mouth fell open.
“Dance?” he prompted.
“I—ah—”
