“I do, indeed, but I’m here with you and Ryan. I can hardly be in two places at once, can I?”
“I think you should dance, if you like it, Miss Templeton. All the other ladies are dancing.” Ryan peered down at the whirl of couples below them, his green eyes alight with interest. “Papa can dance.”
She stifled a sigh. He could, indeed. It was impossible not to watch him, as tall and graceful as he was, and so handsome in his formal evening clothes. More than one young lady had cast an admiring glance at him as he’d led Lady Anne to the floor for the first dance, and he’d danced every set since then, just as a proper host should do.
“But maybe Miss Templeton doesn’t have a ball dress.” Etienne nibbled at his gingerbread. “I think it’s a rule that a lady has to have a ball dress to go to a ball. Is that right, Miss Templeton?”
“Not a rule, perhaps, but yes, a lady wouldn’t wish to appear at a ball without the proper attire.”
“Jewels, too.” Ryan leaned so far over the balcony railing Helena was obliged to snatch him by the collar and pull him back. “A lady has to have lots of jewels. Isn’t that right, Miss Templeton?”
“I suppose so, yes.” Certainly, most of the ladies here tonight were wearing them. Lady Codswaddle was so smothered in emeralds she looked like a kissing ball herself. It was rather disconcerting, really.
“Lady Anne is wearing jewels,” Etienne observed. “Sparkly ones, in her ears.”
“Those are diamonds, and she has a string of pearls around her neck.” She drew in a breath, and forced the next words from her lips. “She, ah…she looks very pretty, doesn’t she?”
Dear God, that had taken an effort, and it shouldn’t have. Indeed, she was ashamed of herself for the jealousy burning a hole in her chest. Lady Annedidlook pretty, and if Lord Hawke thought so too, as he certainly appeared to do, well…that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
She’d be gone from Hawke’s Run soon enough. All that mattered was that Lord Hawke remained here with Ryan and Etienne once she was gone.
Ryan, Etienne and…and Lady Anne.
“She’s not as pretty as you are, Miss Templeton,” Etienne announced, with all the sweet loyalty of a six-year-old boy.
“Her gown is white,” Ryan added in a disapproving tone. “I don’t like white gowns. The bright colors are prettier. I like Lady Codswaddle’s gown. It’s pink.”
“No, it isn’t! It’s brown!” Etienne inspected what was left of his slice of gingerbread, then stuffed the last bite into his mouth. “Brown isn’t a pretty color.”
No, and even less so when paired with emeralds, for pity’s sake. “That color is called puce, and it’s a combination of brown, pink and purple.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Etienne said. “And I don’t like Lady Codswaddle.”
“Neither do I,” Ryan agreed. “She’s always scolding.”
“Papa doesn’t like her, either. I heard him call her a harridan.”
“Etienne!” Helena snorted back a laugh. “That isnota nice thing to say. I beg you will never repeat that in Lady Codswaddle’s hearing. Or in anyone else’s hearing, come to that.”
“Papa likes Lady Anne, though.” Ryan devoured the remainder of his own slice of gingerbread with such gusto crumbs scattered everywhere.
That chased the smile from her face quickly enough. “Does he? How, ah…how do you know that, Ryan?”
“I saw him kiss her,” Ryan said around his mouthful of gingerbread.
“Kiss her?” Helena repeated faintly. “You saw your fatherkissLady Anne?”
“Mmmhmm.” Ryan swallowed the last of his gingerbread and wiped his hands on his nightshirt.
“No, he didn’t!” Etienne let out a little shriek of laughter, the idea of his papa kissing a lady being too much for his six-year-old sensibilities.
“Did too,” Ryan said stoutly. “Last night, in the ballroom.”
Adrian—that is, Lord Hawke—and Lady Anne had beenkissingin the ballroom?
That was…well, it was…perfectly splendid, of course! Just what she’d hoped would happen. Why, her stomach was absolutely rolling with…happiness. Rolling and turning with it, especially when Lord Hawke once again took Lady Anne’s hand, and led her out to the dance floor.
It was their second dance of the evening, though who was counting?
