Her breathing was still coming fast, and there was a blush to her cheeks that put Anthony more at ease, for it suggested that her temper hadn’t flared because of his kiss or even because of what he’d said (though he felt sure she’d have a different opinion on the matter), but rather because she’d just realized that he was in fact right. She pointed an accusing finger toward him. “I had everything worked out before I met you,” she said. “I knew my life wasn’t perfect, but it was one I was willing to accept. My mother was right to warn me about the stories I chose to read. Fairy tales are for children. As adults, we must think rationally and without dreams of the impossible clouding our judgment. I know this, and yet I was still determined to come here this evening—some deep-rooted wish to experience the fairy-tale splendor of the legendary Kingsborough Ball—before I lost the chance forever. The memory of this evening was intended to last me a lifetime. But then I met you and—”
“And?” Anthony asked carefully as he moved hesitantly toward her.
She let out a quivering sigh, and when her eyes met his again, there was desperation there—like that of a trapped animal. “And I found myself hoping for more—wishing for something that isn’t meant to be. Don’t you see? You’ve ruined my life by kissing me, for it will be impossible for my future husband to live up to what we just shared, and because of that, I will have to live with the regret of what might have been had things been different, as will you.”
It was bloody difficult not to smile with male pride in response to her words, but he attempted a serious expression anyway, hoping for a look of concern. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Wecanbe together if you’ll only tell me who you are so I can speak to your father. I’ll ask for permission to court you and—”
“I’ve already told you it’s impossible, so please, stop making this more difficult than it already is,” she said. Her shoulders slumped, and she gave him a sad little smile. “I should probably go.”
“And miss the fireworks?” Anthony asked, knowing full well that he was trying to find any reason to hold on to her for just a little while longer. Perhaps if they spoke some more she’d let something slip—some small detail that would help him find her again, because whatever ridiculous reason she thought there might be for denying his courtship, he was confident he’d be able to fix it once he knew what it was. He saw her pause and decided to press his advantage. “You really can’t say that you’ve attended the Kingsborough Ball without seeing the fireworks.”
She looked skeptical but eventually nodded. “Very well, Your Grace. I will agree to watch the fireworks, but as soon as they are over, I really must take my leave. Are we in agreement?”
“Certainly, Miss Smith,” Anthony said, knowing full well that it was the best deal he was likely to get at that moment.
Chapter 8
“Where on earth have you been?” Louise hissed as she drew up next to Anthony with her husband following dutifully on her heels. With a quick glance in Miss Smith’s direction, Louise narrowed her eyes. “Honestly, I thought you’d changed, but that is clearly not the case, is it?” As much as her words hurt (more so because of the truth in them), Anthony had no intention of having that particular discussion right now and decided to remain silent instead, eliciting a disappointed shake of the head from his sister. “Just so you know, people have been asking about you.”
“What people?” Anthony asked blandly as he stopped a passing footman and began handing a glass of champagne to Miss Smith before giving one to his sister and Lord Huntley.
“The guests, you numbskull, or have you forgotten that you’re supposed to be in the process of hosting the grandest ball of the year, and with the fireworks about to begin—Mama had to make the announcement herself! She was absolutely frantic, and rightfully so.” Louise hit him on the arm, much like she’d done as a child whenever he’d annoyed her.
Anthony groaned and took a sip of his drink. He knew his absence from the ballroom had lasted too long and was unlikely to go unnoticed, especially not by his mother, who was counting on him for support. “I’d best try and find her,” he said, determined to make it up to her. This evening was mostly for her benefit after all—a means by which to help her recover from her loss. Taking Miss Smith’s arm and linking it with his own, he then stepped forward while his sister followed behind with her husband.
With two hundred people cramming together on the terrace, it took a while for Anthony to locate his mother—particularly since it turned out that she wasn’t on the terrace at all but on the lawn below with Winston, Sarah and Casper. There were a few other people milling about down there—especially in the vicinity of the pumpkin carriage. With Miss Smith beside him, Anthony made his descent, arriving at his mother’s side a moment later. “I hope you will forgive my tardiness, Mama, but I was otherwise detained and lost track of time.”
“Lost track of your sanity, I’d say,” Casper muttered, to which Winston elbowed him in the ribs.
“I had hoped that you were past this sort of thing, Anthony,” his mother said, glancing briefly at Miss Smith. “You know all eyes are upon you this evening. To sneak off with any young lady is not only uncouth but could also result in permanent damage to the young lady’s reputation. You must try to be more civilized—you have responsibilities now.”
As if he hadn’t known that. His mother’s words grated, for if anyone had undergone a change of character from one day to the next, it was surely he. Casper could attest to that, as could Winston, for they had both been shocked when he’d said good-bye to his three mistresses, though Winston had been more pleased about it than Casper. This seemed insignificant now however, considering how easily he’d allowed his newly adopted righteousness to slip this evening. “I realize that, Mama.”
“After all,” his mother continued with a note of despair, “the invitation did say midnight fireworks. I waited as long as I could for you to return, but the guests were getting restless and—”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Anthony said, and he meant it. She’d always had her husband at her side whenever she’d hosted such events. This was her first public appearance without him, and Anthony had thoughtlessly abandoned her in favor of kissing Miss Smith. He felt like an ass.
His mother sighed, shook her head a little and then smiled. “Considering your lovely toast, I do believe I’ll accept your apology. Thank you for that, by the way—I know it was difficult for you.”
Difficult?
Nightmarish was more like it. His hands had started to sweat, his cravat had felt tighter than a hangman’s noose, and he’d felt his heart beating closer to his knees than to his chest. Not to mention that the pressure of saying the right thing andnotmaking a fool of himself in front of everyone had made him feel faint. In fact, he was quite certain he’d lost all sensation in his toes for the entire duration of the ordeal.
His thoughts were interrupted by a bright burst of color in the night sky as the first firework exploded with a popping sound. Glancing down at Miss Smith, he saw her eyes light up as she watched the display, and it filled him with deep satisfaction knowing that he’d contributed to this small moment of happiness for her.
“I used to watch this from my bedroom window as a child,” she said, her voice so low and dreamy that Anthony wondered if she was aware that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
He held quiet, hoping that she might say more, but she didn’t, so he eventually whispered, “Your parents didn’t mind you staying up so late?”
She didn’t turn her head to look at him, but he could see that she was smiling. “They didn’t know,” Miss Smith said. “They would put me to bed at a decent hour, but I would stay awake, imagining the extravagance of the ball while I waited—the pretty gowns, the dancing and the soft, flowing music. By the time the firework display began, I almost felt as though I was at the ball myself, amidst the splendor.”
There was a wealth of information to be found in what she’d just told him, and as shrewd as it might have been, Anthony decided to press the advantage that the moment offered. “Did you enjoy growing up in Moxley?”
“Oh, yes, I ...” She looked at him then, her eyes unblinking and her lips slightly parted to form a startled expression. And then she frowned, and that frown turned to something else entirely—something sad and defeated that in turn made Anthony feel like a cad. She hadn’t wanted him to know, but he’d tricked her into telling him anyway. He regretted it, and yet he didn’t, because now he finally stood a chance—theystood a chance. If she lived close by, he would find her, no matter what.
“Kingsborough!” a deep voice called from behind him. Anthony turned to find Lucien Marvaine, the Earl of Roxberry, striding toward him, accompanied by the lovely Lady Crossby, recently widowed, a particularly sad affair, since she’d been left alone with the couple’s six-month-old daughter, Sophia.
Anthony smiled as they approached. He’d always gotten on well with Roxberry. He had an adventurous streak that Anthony found particularly entertaining. Stepping forward, he was just about to voice his own greeting when from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement and then two things occurred at once. Anthony turned his head to see Daniel Neville dancing his way toward him with a lady he did not recognize. They were just coming up beside Lady Crossby and Roxberry when another firework exploded, a loud bang sounded and Neville’s dance partner screamed.
