“Mr. Whitland,” he said quickly. “But wait. Where are you going? What is your goal?”
She stopped and glanced back at him. The man was gorgeous, to be certain, and apparently he was a mister—thank heavens—but he’d already indicated he didn’t enjoy dancing. More’s the pity. She needed to find a gentleman who liked to dance…and quickly.
“To dance with a handsome gentleman at the ball,” she announced over her shoulder, and she couldn’t resist sending him a grin. She paused for a moment before tapping a gloved finger to her cheek and adding something that had just occurred to her. “And perhaps eat an hors d'oeuvre or two.” And with that, she shot him a wink and slipped from the room, even though a part of her wanted to stay.
Chapter Four
Justin watched the space where the young lady had just been. For a moment, he wondered if the entire encounter with her had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. It had been so odd. And he wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard her correctly. Had she said her goal was to dance with a handsome gentleman at a ball? That was a first. He’d never heard anyone say such a thing. No one except his younger sister Jessica, who couldn’t wait to make her debut.
But if the woman he’d just encountered was a debutante, what was she doing in here alone? Where was her mother? Besides, usually when he encountered debutantes who wanted to dance, they were looking to make him their partner. But this young woman hadn’t seemed to know who he was. She appeared solely interested in dancing and in a hurry to quit his company.
Justin absently scratched his chin, still staring at the doorway. Who was she? She was certainly pretty. She had thick blond hair, irrepressible dimples, and cornflower blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. And her voice had been happy and full of life. He’d never wanted to prolong an acquaintance with a debutante, but he had to admit he’d been disappointed when she left the room. Odd. All of it. And she wasn’t even an acquaintance, was she? She hadn’t so much as given him a name. In fact, she’d refused to tell him her name.
He wanted to follow her. That was a first as well. The thought surprised him. There was something captivating about her. Of course, he wasn’t interested in dancing. Justin never wanted to dance, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted to see her dance. Perhaps only to learn whether she’d accomplished the goal she’d seemed so intent upon.
Justin shook his head and rubbed at his forehead with a knuckle. He was being absurd. Why did he care about a fanciful young lady’s desire to dance? He had his own goal tonight, and it involved finding Edgefield, spreading word of his sister’s nonexistent illness, and getting the hell out of this ball filled with married couples and boring little innocents.
Though, now that he thought on it, the young woman he’d just encountered hadn’t bored him. That was a first too. She looked slightly older than most of the debutantes, and she didn’t have a mother with her. Was she a debutante? Perhaps she merely didn’t want anyone to know she’d been in a room alone with a man. He couldn’t blame her for that. Reputations were easily lost with less fodder.
If she was a debutante, perhaps she’d yet to make her debut. But that made little sense. She wouldn’t be at the ball if she hadn’t made her debut. And she’d said she wasn’t supposed to be in the drawing room. He’d assumed that was only because she should be out in the crowd with her mama keeping a close eye on her.
But why had she refused to give him her name? In fairness, he hadn’t told her his name either. Not his real one, at least. When she’d declined to reveal her name, he’d decided to keep his identity secret as well for some reason. He hadn’t mentioned that he was a marquess and not just a mister. She’d assumed he was a mister so easily, he hadn’t wanted to disabuse her of the notion. It was rare that a debutante wouldn’t know who he was. He wasn’t given to tossing his title about, but somehow they all seemed to know who he was…not that he relished it. On the contrary, it was refreshing to find a debutante who didn’t know him. Quite refreshing, actually.
Justin shook his head again. What was the matter with him? It was unlike him, spending so much time wondering about a young woman. Any young woman, debutante or not. He usually avoided such innocents like a case of the pox. He preferred the more experienced women he met at the gaming hells around London. Women who were used to pleasure and knew how to give and receive it. Oh, he would have to marry, eventually, he knew that. He already had a sound plan for it. He intended to find a woman who wanted his title and would bear him an heir, but who didn’t care one whit about him. That was the secret to a marriage free from pain and disappointment. In the meantime, he would find his pleasure in dalliances at the hells.
Justin scrubbed a hand through his hair. The unexpected encounter with the young woman who wanted to dance had distracted him long enough. He should return to the ballroom, find Edgefield, look for a few more people to inform of Veronica’s unfortunate illness, and then get on with his night. He exited the drawing room, closing the door behind him and putting thoughts of the pretty young blond woman firmly from his mind.
The ballroom was just as he’d left it, filled with people and music and laughter. And this time, Lady Hazelton and Henrietta were thankfully nowhere to be found. He politely nodded to a few acquaintances and stopped to speak briefly with some friends, who obligingly asked after Veronica’s health. As he made his way through the crush, he kept an eye out for Edgefield…and if he spotted the blond woman, so be it.
Justin decided to tour the perimeter of the room. He had no sooner made his way toward the closest wall when he spied Edgefield in a small group that included Lord Hazelton, by the double doors at the front of the room. Justin changed his course immediately.
“Ah, Whitmore,” Edgefield said the moment he looked up and saw Justin striding toward him. “Good to see you.” The duke turned to the group he was with. “I was just telling Hazelton here that Veronica isn’t feeling well this evening.”
“That’s right,” Justin smoothly interjected, shaking his head as if it were a shame. “My dear sister is under the weather again. I swear there must be something about the Christmastide season that doesn’t agree with her.”
“She sends her regrets, of course,” Edgefield added.
Lord Hazelton eyed Edgefield warily. “How unfortunate. I must ask Lady Hazelton to stop by your town house to see if Her Grace needs anything.”
“Nonsense,” Edgefield replied, a fake smile plastered on his face. Justin knew that inside Edgefield was wishing he could punch Hazelton in the gut. “She has me and a team of maids at the ready. She’s been asleep most of the day. I’m certain she’ll be fit in no time.”
“Very well,” Hazelton allowed, still eyeing Edgefield with a look that indicated in no uncertain terms he didn’t believe a word the duke had said.
Justin returned Hazelton’s careful stare. The earl clearly knew the rumors that Veronica had left Edgefield barely two months after their wedding nearly eighteen months ago. She’d fled to their country house and not been back. London had been rife with chatter about her marriage ever since. Both Edgefield and Veronica were absurdly stubborn and refused to listen to reason, and so they remained at odds. Justin could only hope they made up soon. He doubted the ton would believe his lies for a third year.
As the group’s conversation switched to another topic, Justin scoured the ballroom for a head of blond hair and a sapphire gown. He found no trace. He frowned, wondering for the dozenth time why he was looking.
Soon, Hazelton and his friends drifted off to speak to other guests, and Justin was left alone with Edgefield.
“Thank you,” Edgefield said, expelling his breath, his shoulders relaxing.
“You’re quite welcome,” Justin replied. “Besides Hazelton, I spoke to the Rothchilds, Lord and Lady Pembroke, and the Cranberrys.”
Edgefield nodded. “Excellent.”
“Is there anyone else you’d like me to inform of my dear sister’s poor health before I take my leave?”
“No,” Edgefield said with a shake of the head. “That should suffice.”
