He had to think. What did he know about her? Her name was Madeline. She was a guest. And she’d…gone upstairs. That must mean she was staying here. And given her age, no doubt Lady Henrietta knew precisely who she was. That was it. He’d begin by asking Henrietta Hazelton.
Chapter Nine
Justin tucked the earbob in his coat pocket and made his way back into the ballroom. He didn’t have to search long for Lady Henrietta. She had a loud laugh and wore extremely long feathers atop her head. She stood out like a partridge.
He casually made his way to the small group where she stood. The most expeditious way to do this would be to ask her to dance. It would be worth a dance with Lady Henrietta to learn who Madeline was or where he might find her. He gritted his teeth and bowed to the lady.
“May I have this dance?”
Lady Henrietta exchanged a look with her mother that could only be described as dumbfounded.
“Me?” She pointed at herself, her mouth slightly agape, her large front teeth on full display in her too-small mouth.
“Yes.” He kept his most charming smile pinned to his face, even though it pained him.
“Yes!” She launched herself into his arms, propelled no small amount by a hearty shove from her mother.
Justin helped her regain her footing. Then he took her hand and placed his other at her waist. She stepped closer to him and grabbed his shoulder. The white feathers jutting from her coiffure nearly poked out his eye.
Another waltz began to play, and in a word, the dancing was…awkward. She stepped on his feet more times than he cared to count and made a sort of snorting, honking noise by way of an apology. At least he presumed it was an apology. It may well have been an issue with her throat and nostrils. She held on to him far too tightly. She clutched at his shoulder as if she would fall without his support and her fingers in his other hand were icy and skeletal beneath her gloves. He did his best to keep the smile plastered to his face, but he wasted no time coming to the point.
“I have a question for you, Lady Henrietta,” he began, wincing as she stepped on his foot again.
The lady stumbled, falling into his arms, causing him to have to right her and assist her in regaining her footing. “A question?” she croaked in a particularly braying voice that sounded exactly like a donkey.
The way she repeated ‘question’ while leering at him made him wish he’d used another word. For heaven’s sake, she couldn’t possibly think he was going to offer for her on the dance floor after one-quarter of an awful dance, could she? This was precisely why he detested these sorts of affairs. A lot of marital aspirations and nonsense.
“Yes,” he replied stiffly, hurrying to quickly disabuse her of any misconception as to the nature of his question. “I had the pleasure of meeting one of your guests earlier tonight.”
Lady Henrietta’s face crumpled into a frown. “A guest?” she repeated, turning up her nose and sneering the word.
“Yes, a young lady, actually,” Justin continued.
Her frown turned into a dark glare. “And?” she asked woodenly.
“She dropped an earbob, and I thought perhaps if I showed it to you, you might recognize it. We hadn’t been introduced yet, and I don’t know her name.”
“Very well,” Lady Henrietta said with a long, loud sigh.
“Excellent. Thank you.” Justin was thrilled to have a reason to end the dancing. He led Lady Henrietta to the side of the room, where he pulled the earbob from his coat pocket and presented it to her.
She glanced at it and her orange-brown eyes narrowed. At first, she looked entirely uninterested, but then she leaned in closer and glared before taking the bob from his hand and rolling it over in hers. “Where did you get this?” she hissed.
“I found it. On the floor. I believe your guest dropped it. I didn’t receive a formal introduction, but I believe her Christian name was…Madeline.” There. That was true. He only hoped Lady Henrietta didn’t ask him how he’d managed to come by a lady’s Christian name and not her surname.
Lady Henrietta’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Madeline?” She dragged out the name in an overly exaggerated fashion. “Are you certain her name was Madeline?”
“Yes.” He nodded. Damn. Had he made a mistake? It didn’t appear that Henrietta knew anyone named Madeline.
Lady Henrietta pursed her lips, her eyes darting back and forth as if she was contemplating the matter. “I only know…wait. What did she look like, my lord?”
“Blond hair, blue eyes. Your height.” He also wanted to say the most beautiful lips and startling dimples he’d ever seen and mention that she smelled like fresh lilacs, but he refrained.
Lady Henrietta’s nostrils flared, and her face turned a mottled red. “I see,” she snapped.
“Do you know her?” he prompted, eyeing her carefully. She certainly seemed to have someone in mind.
“I believe so,” Lady Henrietta managed through a clenched jaw.
