Her friend rocked back on her slippered heels and laughed. The sound was merry and full of mischief, but it never failed to lighten Iseabail’s heart.
“I don’t remember a Mr. Bates, but clearly he has some sort of power over you.”
“Not a whit,” she lied. “And you do remember him. He’s the one who rescued us from the highwaymen.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “Truly? I had no idea he was elevated enough to attend a ball.” She looked around at the titled assemblage. This event was as exclusive as Almack’s. “Whatever would a peer be doing rescuing us from highwaymen up north?”
Lying about his antecedents, no doubt. “Why is it more believable that a peer would playact being a rugged gunman than a man of lowly ancestry could attend this ball?”
Sadie laughed. “Because no one gets in here without a full pedigree. Even we wouldn’t be here without the countess.”
Which made her all the more curious about Mr. Bates. “Will you save the dance for him? Please?”
“What are you saving for him?”
Iseabail held up her card and pointed to where she’d written the man’s name.
“The waltz?” Sadie gasped in surprise. Her gaze swung back to where the countess was talking with her friends. “Does she know?”
Iseabail didn’t need to answer. Sadie already guessed the truth, and it didn’t seem to bother her a whit. With the boldness of one who never said no to a lark, she scrawled Mr. Bates’s name on the appropriate line.
“Thank—” Iseabail began, but she was interrupted by a pair of gentlemen eager to add their names to Sadie’s dance card. Iseabail knew the men. Both were more interested in a bit of fun in the garden than anything approaching matrimony. But at least one of them was an excellent dancer, so Sadie seemed happy to offer up her card. Which meant Iseabail had to do so as well, despite her disinterest in either man.
And so the evening went. Neither of them was popular enough to have her dance card filled, but they made a good enough showing. Sadie was the flirt who made everyone laugh. Iseabail stood beside her hoping for some reflected glory. Normally she could engage well enough to feel like she gave the gentlemen a chance to impress her. She needed a very specific kind of husband—one who could stand up to her uncle—and so far, every pale, mincing Sassenach had disappointed her. Not a one seemed like he could survive a harsh winter, much less her uncle’s brutish fury.
Which is why her attention kept wandering to the door where Mr. Reuben would soon step through.
Any minute now.
Any second now the man who had seen her naked last night would ask her to dance.
Good God, what was she going to say to him?
He didn’t arrive in the normal receiving line. That wasn’t surprising. Many a gentleman arrived after the dancing began. Iseabail watched the main door as best she could, much to the annoyance of her dance partners. It was rude of her, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to know if he was coming.
By the end of the first set, she accepted the truth. Mr. Reuben wasn’t here. Either he hadn’t managed an invitation—the most likely possibility—or something else had happened. That meant she didn’t need to risk the countess’s wrath by dancing with an unapproved gentleman. She didn’t need to face someone with whom she’d been so accidentally inappropriate. Her face still burned with humiliation at the memory. And yet, he was also the most interesting man she’d ever met.
The conflict of emotions made her incredibly distracted, and even Sadie noticed.
“I knew it was a lie,” Sadie whispered to her before the second set began. “He’s not a peer pretending to be a gunman. He’s a gunman—”
“Yes, yes. I know.”
“You can do better, Iseabail. You have blue blood and a dowry—”
“A rumor of one—”
“Is better than what I have, which is absolutely nothing.” She squeezed Iseabail’s arm. “You know, the only reason I’ve gotten as much attention as I have is because I’m the fun one. If you’d smile more, crack that ice queen polish a bit, they’d flock to you—”
“Like flies on honey?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want a fly.”
“You don’t want to be ignored, unwed honey either.”
No, she didn’t. If her uncle ever caught her without a ring on her finger, she would be unceremoniously hauled back to Scotland and forced on any one of his toadies. That was why she had run in the first place.
