They both watched as Evelina laughed with Maria and the Duke of Winterleigh.
“I found it intriguing that beautiful Lady Maria ended up marrying the Duke of Winterleigh.” Duc d'Orléans nodded towards her friend and sneered.
Theodora looked back at him. He was not as tall as the Duke of Winterleigh, and from what she could see, he was not unpleasant to look at. Theodora leaned in to focus on his face, trying to imagine it without the mask.
“What are you doing?” he asked and took a step back from Theodora’s leaning body.
She quickly straightened. “I am trying to imagine the features of your face without a mask.”
Duc d'Orléans frowned. “Why?”
“It surely must be your own insecurity that troubles you as to why Her Grace married the Duke of Winterleigh. No one else in thetonhas questioned them.” Theodora saw the corners of his mouth twitch in annoyance.
She smiled brightly at him before she continued, “Although, that is just my observation. You see, I am a scientist, and I take note of these interactions.”
Duc d'Orléans cleared his throat. “If you will excuse me, Miss Dowell, I seem to have found an old friend of mine in the crowd.”
He tried his best to smile charmingly before disappearing into the throng. Theodora silently cursed him in her thoughts. Her first encounter had already tired her out. She turned back towards the dance floor only to find her sister and Maria standing with another man.
It is going to be a long night.
* * *
“You are an odd young lady.”
Lord Danning said it as though he was announcing the weather.
Theodora forced a smile so tight her cheeks ached.Odd.Nearly the same comment had been made four gentlemen in the span of an hour. Apparently, discussing lunar cycles and galvanic currents between dances rendered a woman a curiosity best observed from a distance.
“How unfortunate for Society,” she replied coolly. “It must be exhausting for you all to encounter a thought unconnected to ribbons or waltzes.”
Lord Danning blinked, clearly unsure whether he had been insulted.
Before she could deliver the final, perfectly sharpened remark forming on her tongue, a shadow fell over them; broad, solid, and inescapable.
“Ah. There you are. Your sister sent me to fetch you.” A deep voice rumbled over her shoulder, tickled her ear, and sent a jolt down her spine.
Theodora turned to find herself looking directly into a broad muscular chest. Her eyes drifted up and found the gladiator’s hazel eyes alight with mischief and amusement. She opened her mouth to question him, but he pulled her away from Lord Danning before she could utter a word.
They walked to the outer wall where there were less people and, thankfully, some refreshing air.
Theodora looked around. “Well, where is she?”
The gladiator followed her gaze around the room. “Who?”
“You said my sister sent for me.”
“Oh, that.” He shrugged and leaned against a column. “You looked like you needed help. Lord Danning is a dolt, so… you are welcome.”
Theodora’s blood began to boil.
“How dare you. You have interrupted my experiment!” The words were out before she could stop them.
“Ah!” The gladiator straightened and took a step towards her.
It was then she was able to truly take in their height difference. He stood a head above her at least. His dark hair fell over the top of his mask, too. His jaw was square as was his frame. Theodora got the distinct impression that this was a man one simply did not question or push aside.
The notion reminded her of her father and her resolve returned. She stood taller, trying to meet him eye to eye. Or eye to chest. She tilted her head as her brows furrowed.
