“It does. Have you known him long?”
Lady Felicia sighed. “Yes. My entire life. His family owns the estate next to ours in Lewes. Sebastian coaxed Edmund to come to London to help me through my season, but I daresay Edmund’s on the hunt for a bride of his own. His father died two years ago, and his mother has been bothering him to secure a wife since Edmund inherited the title.”
Lucy thought she heard a note of longing in Lady Felicia’s voice, and turned to study her.
Lady Felicia was watching Miss Fisher and Lord Markham move through the set, a dejected look on her face. Lucy followed her gaze and saw Miss Fisher’s face was flushed a becoming pink from the exertions of the dance. Lord Markham was gazing down at her with a surprisingly boyish smile.
“I confess I wasn’t looking forward to this season.” Lady Felicia’s tone was gloomy, but then she seemed to gather herself together, and she turned to Lucy with a bright, determined smile. “Now I’ve met you and your cousin, perhaps the three of us might squeeze some pleasure out of London, after all.”
Lucy wouldn’t have thought to put “pleasure” and “London” together in the same sentence, but that might change now they’d become acquainted with Lady Felicia. “Yes, we shall! Not at the balls, though. I never realized how tedious it would be to sit about all night and watch other people dance.”
Lady Felicia chuckled. “You’re not the first lady to say so, I’m certain.”
“No.” Lucy glanced around them and noted more than one young lady languishing on the gilt chairs scattered around the outer edges of the ballroom. “It’s a pity not every lady should have the chance to dance. At least, those ladies who know how, I mean.”
“Oh, but they’ll all dance, Lady Lucinda. You needn’t worry about that. I happen to know the Wallflower Gallant is attending the ball this evening. He’ll dance with each and every lady who’d otherwise be obliged to sit out the set.”
“The Wallflower Gallant? Who’s that?”
“Of course, this is your first season, so you wouldn’t know. A gentleman by the name of Mr. Ramsey became famous last season for attending every ball and dancing with every wallflower. He’s good fun, and terribly handsome. More than one young lady lost her heart to him.”
“How extraordinary.” Lucy liked the sound of this gentleman very much, and her lips curved into a smile.
“The belles and beauties tried to catch his attention, but he never so much as glanced at any of them. He danced every single dance of the entire season with London’s wallflowers,” Lady Felicia went on. “Mr. Ramsey’s sister married the Marquess of Pierce shortly after the season ended last year, so I didn’t expect he’d spend another season in London, but who should we meet this afternoon but Mr. Ramsey himself? I was ever so glad to see him, and Sebastian wheedled him into attending the ball tonight. Sebastian’s very good at wheedling.”
Lucy glanced at the dancers again. Lord Vale and Eloisa were twirling in a tight circle together, their hands joined. Whatever it was he was whispering to her was making her smile and blush. “I have no doubt.”
“I expected Mr. Ramsey would arrive before now. I do hope he keeps his promise to come tonight, or else I won’t stand up for many dances. Edmund never seems to think to ask me, and Sebastian can’t, so—oh, wait, there he is!”
“Where?” Lucy craned her neck in the direction Lady Felicia indicated, anxious to see the fascinating Wallflower Gallant, but the room was crowded with gallant-looking gentlemen. “Which one?”
“The dark-haired gentleman, just under the archway there.” Lady Felicia gestured discreetly with her fan. “Indeed, you can’t miss him, Lady Lucinda. He’s the tallest gentleman in the room. He’s from northern Scotland. From what I understand, they’re all quite large there.”
Northern Scotland…
A little frisson of excitement tickled under her breastbone, but Lucy drew in a deep breath to will it away. It couldn’t behim. Of course, it couldn’t be. It was far too much of a coincidence to think she’d stumble upon him againhere, of all places.
Still…
She was quite anxious to get a peek at the man, just the same.
Lucy abandoned propriety and rose to her feet, then balanced on her tiptoes, her gaze following Lady Felicia’s fan. Blast it, the entire ballroom suddenly seemed to be filled with tall, dark-haired gentlemen, and she couldn’t see a thing through the sea of jeweled turbans—
Wait, just there. A man, at least a head taller than the gentlemen surrounding him, had paused to speak to an elderly lady who’d stopped him with a hand on his arm. His head was bent toward her, and Lucy couldn’t see his face, but he had dark hair, a shade too long, and something about the fluid way he moved…
She froze, willing her eyes to find some disparity between this man and the man she remembered. Willing them to catch up with her brain, which was insisting over and over again that it couldn’t possibly be the same man.
No, it couldn’t be him. It was impossible.
Except it looked just like him. The dark hair, the broad shoulders, his remarkable size…ithadto be him. There couldn’t possibly be two such enormous gentlemen in England.
Her heart came to a crashing halt in her chest, leaving her breathless.
He hadn’t said a word to her about coming to London before leaving for Scotland, but then they hadn’t talked much about such mundane things as that, had they? She didn’t even know his last name, or he hers—
“Lady Lucinda? Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not a ghost, no. Just a man. A man she’d thought about every single day since her uncle had dragged her away from Brighton. A man she believed she’d never lay eyes on again.
