“That’s Lady Claire Marchfield,” Meg offered, nodding toward the young woman.
“Why am I to take notice of her?” Christian asked.
“Because she is the current belle of the new Season,” Meg explained. “She is whom you need to impress if you’re to become the most highly sought-after bachelor this year.”
“She is, is she?” Christian’s hands began to sweat just thinking of approaching the belle of the Season.
“Yes, and she does have beautiful gowns, I must admit,” Meg said with a sigh. “Of course, I’m convinced she doesn’t do idiotic things like drop chocolate on them.”
Christian’s heart tugged at the memory of Sarah explaining to him how Meg’s clothes were old and outdated. He felt a sense of kindred with Meg. They were both the outcasts, apparently. Or had been in the past.
“Why didn’t Lady Sarah come tell me this herself?” he couldn’t help asking. He also didn’t want to admit to himself that he wanted to see her. To know where she was.
Meg’s irrepressible grin widened. “Because she’s busy spreading the rumor that you’re the most highly sought-after bachelor of the Season, of course.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
By the time Sarah made her way across the ballroom to find Christian more than an hour later, two things had happened. First, the rumor that Christian wasthebachelor of the Season had spread like wildfire, no doubt helped along in no small part by his stunning good looks and fine clothing. Second, Lady Claire had heard the rumor (truth be told, she’d been informed by Sarah herself) and had positioned herself in Christian’s crowd. Her own group of admirers had followed her, as had all the other young ladies and their mothers vying to get a glimpse of the eligible viscount. When Sarah approached the group, it had turned into a veritable swarm of people.
She picked up her light blue skirts and pushed her way into the crowd, scanning the faces for Christian. Lucy Hunt was standing at one of his elbows, Lady Claire at the other. The girl had blond hair and blue eyes and an excessively pretty, round, pale face. A stab of something that felt far too much like jealousy ripped through Sarah’s middle entirely unexpectedly. But she also felt pride. Pride for Christian.
Hewasdoing it. Exactly as she’d taught him. He’d somehow managed to speak to Lady Claire, the new belle of the Season, and immediately be seen with her. The man was obviously a quick study.
Sarah desperately wanted to talk to him. She had no idea what she would say once she got there, but she found herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
She stood on the outskirts of his little group and watched while what seemed like scores of young women competed for an introduction to him. Lady Claire hovered next to his arm like a timid little bird.
Finally, Lady Alexandra saw Sarah and pulled her closer to Christian. “Lady Sarah, there you are. It’s so good to see you.”
Was it Sarah’s imagination or did Christian’s back stiffen when he heard her name? He was standing at right angles to her, speaking to one of the many ladies fluttering around him like so many pretty butterflies. She detected no stutter. She smiled.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Lady Alexandra. Best wishes on your upcoming wedding. I was just speaking to your sister about it,” Sarah replied.
Lady Alexandra’s pretty brown eyes clouded. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear you’ve had to endure Lavinia’s company.” She soon brightened, however. “But thank you for the kind words. The same to you on your own impending nuptials.”
Sarah stiffened this time. She tried to smile, but her lips were tight. “Thank you.”
Christian turned then and his smile dazzled her. This close to her, he was even more handsome than he’d been far away. He didn’t smell like firewood. Instead, he was wearing some sort of spicy cologne that made her senses reel.
“Lady Sarah, have you met my friend Lord Berkeley?” Alexandra asked in a sweet voice.
Sarah shook her head. Lucy had told her that she and Christian had agreed they should pretend not to have met if they saw each other in London this Season. When Lucy had explained the reason for it, Sarah had merely nodded and jerked her head away. She’d been plagued with thoughts of Christian all these months. Why?Why?
She told herself again and again that if only she were engaged to a man she admired and respected, she wouldn’t spend her time thinking about someone else. It was shameful to do so. Shameful and wrong. God knew she’d spent enough nights tossing and turning in bed, trying to think of ways to banish Christian Forester from her mind, but nothing seemed to work. Lately, she’d been so preoccupied with the fear of having to pick a wedding date that the thoughts of Christian weren’t as vivid as they had been when he’d first left her in Bath. But the sight of him here, now, sent them all rushing back to her in excruciating detail.
“A pleasure, Lady Sarah,” Christian said, taking her hand and bowing over it. He’d saved her from having to say the lie outright herself. Oh, his gloves were fine, too. He must have stopped at the glovemakers as well.
“M-m-my lord,” she intoned instead, curtsying to him as soon as he righted himself. Then she blushed scarlet for having stuttered the first word.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked smoothly, surprising her with the question.
“Thank you.” She offered him her hand and noticed a small pout form on Lady Claire’s face as she watched him take Sarah’s arm and lead her to the dance floor.
A waltz began to play and Christian spun her into his arms.
“Did I hear you stutter when you greeted me?” he said with a teasing smile.
“Guilty,” she admitted. “I must say, you look quite… quite… different from the last time I saw you.”
