Voices sounded in the corridor, breaking the spell, and Maddie quickly scrambled away from him. The voices were so close they sounded as if their owners might enter the room. She twirled desperately in a circle, searching for the best hiding place. The potted palm wasn’t big enough. Instead, she scurried behind the velvet blue drapes. She hovered there, trying to hold her breath, when the voices passed the drawing room.
Thank heavens. Sucking air into her lungs, she pressed a hand to her chest and said another brief prayer. That had been far too close. She’d taken too much of a risk. A dance was one thing, but a kiss was a step too far. What if those people had opened the door and found her in a compromising position with a man she didn’t even know? She shuddered to think about what might have happened. She’d been a complete fool to play this game. She had to go. Her playacting was over. For good.
Mr. Whitland’s footsteps drew near. He pulled back the drapes. His eyes narrowed on her, and he was grinning at her as if she’d amused him. “It’s all right. You can come out.”
She gave him a tentative smile, suddenly quite aware of how foolish she must look hiding behind curtains. No use explaining. He probably assumed she was worried about her reputation and that was mostly true. She nodded as she stepped out into the room and then tiptoed to the door and peeked out. The corridor was empty. “I must go,” she breathed.
She turned to look at him one last time. He had an inscrutable expression on his face. Dare she hope there was a bit of disappointment in it?
“Please, tell me your name,” he requested, in such a hopeful voice her heart flipped.
If she were clever, she would make up a name. But something inside her prodded her to tell him the truth. It would be completely improper for him to call her by her Christian name, and yet she found herself saying breathlessly, “Madeline. My name is Madeline.”
And with that, she flew from the room. She’d had her dance. It was time to return to her real life.
Chapter Six
London, Twelfth Night, 1815, The Earl of Hazelton’s Town House
This year, instead of arriving solo, Justin arrived at Hazelton’s Twelfth Night Ball with his entire family in tow. Well, all of them save Veronica. She was coming with her husband finally. Over the Christmastide holiday, Veronica and Edgefield had managed to put their disagreement to rights—with a bit of help from the rest of the Whitmoreland family. Mama, Grandpapa, Grandmama, and the twins, Jessica and Elizabeth, had all insisted on coming to the Twelfth Night Ball to see the couple happily reunited. Even though the twins weren’t officially out yet, they’d come too. Grandpapa’s title as a duke would shield them from any gossip.
Justin had merely come to support his family. He was doing his duty. Or so he told himself for the hundredth time as he escorted his mother into the ballroom on his arm. It had been a year. One year since he’d been in this same house and shared a dance with a young lady he hadn’t been able to put from his mind since.
It made no sense. He never spared so much as a second thought for any young lady, and he certainly didn’t think of any of them often. Yet, Madeline—the only name he had to go by—had come up in his thoughts a disturbing number of times over the last twelve months. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he’d spent the entire last Season searching every crowd for her. Only to be repeatedly disappointed. He’d even considered asking about her. But where would he begin and who would he ask? He didn’t have her surname. Not to mention that his asking after a debutante would do nothing but spark gossip.
The closest he’d come to mentioning her to anyone was a discussion earlier this afternoon with Edgefield. Justin had advised his friend that he would be looking for someone—a young lady—at the ball tonight. Justin hoped he didn’t live to regret it now that Edgefield and Veronica were back together. If Edgefield mentioned to Veronica—or worse, Mama or Jessica—that he was in search of a certain young lady, he’d never have a moment’s peace.
But it was too late now, he reckoned as he scanned the ballroom. It was ludicrous to hope he’d find her, of course. Not only did he have no earthly idea who she was, there was certainly no guarantee that she’d be attending the ball again this year. But Hazelton’s Twelfth Night Ball was the one place he’d seen her before, and he couldn’t help that a small part of him held out hope he’d find her here again.
He installed his family along the sidelines of the dancing and stood impatiently, surveying the crowd. He was looking for a sapphire dress, which was foolish. What were the odds she’d be wearing sapphire again?
“It’s not a question of if, Eliza, it’s a necessity,” Mama was saying to his sister, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth, who had always scorned social affairs and fripperies in favor of reading books and scribbling in her journal, rolled her eyes. “But I don’t need a lady’s maid, Mama. It’s entirely unnecessary.”
“Nonsense,” Mama replied. “When the Season begins, who’ll help you with your clothing, jewelry, and hair?”
“Jessa’s maid can button my gowns. I don’t need jewelry, and I cannot stand to have my hair up.”
Mama pressed a hand to her throat. “You cannot be serious, child. You cannot go to social affairs with your hair down. It’s indecent.”
“Decency is overrated,” Eliza replied.
Justin had to turn his laugh into a cough and look away from his mother’s narrow-eyed glare. Mama and Eliza had been having this argument for several weeks now and it didn’t look as if either intended to change her stance. Eliza was firmly set on not employing a lady’s maid, and Mama was equally intent upon ensuring she had one.
On any other evening, Justin might have been amused by his family’s squabble, but tonight he had no intention of listening to the ongoing debate. He preferred to stroll around the ballroom to see if he recognized…anyone. Perhaps take a slight detour into a certain drawing room?
“I’ll be back shortly,” he informed the group, though he doubted any of them heard him as they were all in a merry argument about the merits and necessity of lady’s maids. Jessica, who was greatly looking forward to her Season, was quite vocal on the subject and firmly on Mama’s side.
His family’s spirited discussion was the perfect cover under which Justin could slip away unnoticed. He wasted no time taking a turn around the room, one intended to look quite casual but was anything but. He found himself holding his breath time and again as he came upon a blond woman, but each time she turned around, he was disappointed. He’d gone the length of the room and back before he decided that however ludicrous the notion and however low the odds of her being there, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least visit the drawing room where they’d had their dance last year.
On his way, he was forced to dodge many debutantes looking hopeful that he’d ask them to dance. Why exactly had he thought it a good idea to attend this ball again? He usually avoided it like the plague, and this year he didn’t even have the excuse that he was attending to help Edgefield spread the word about another one of Veronica’s fake illnesses.
As for Veronica, when Justin passed the dance floor, his attention was drawn to the center where Edgefield and Veronica were gazing at each other lovingly, swaying together to the tune of a waltz. He smiled to himself. At least those two were back together again, as they should be. He’d never encountered a more maddeningly stubborn pair. Or a more well suited one.
Justin slipped from the ballroom into the corridor and down the hallway to the drawing room. He cursed himself a fool with each step. Of course, Madeline wouldn’t be in the room. Of course, it would be empty. It was absurd to look.
Justin didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath again until he opened the door of the drawing room to find…dark emptiness. Letting out his pent-up breath, he stepped inside, allowing the door to remain ajar. Should he check behind the curtains? No, that was ridiculous. Sticking his hands in his coat pockets, he kicked at the rug. It had been foolish to think she would be here. But still…the disappointment in his chest lingered.
