A quizzical expression appeared before she dipped a curtsy.“I am Helen.Lady Helen,” she amended, a brief grimace crossing her face when he brushed his lips over the back of her hand.“Forster...as in Gisborn?”she guessed.
“Indeed.I’m the spare,” he admitted, glad he had found a top coat that allowed him to shrug his shoulders.Had he not acquired the larger one earlier that day, he feared the sleeves would have torn out of their seams if he attempted to dance.
“What brings you to London, Mr.Forster?”
Tom managed to snag a glass of champagne from a passing footman.He shifted his feet so he was no longer facing her but standing at a right angle, sure he would be scolded by her mother at any moment.“My cousins and I are about to embark on our Grand Tour.”
Her eyes once again rounded.“Oh, I am so jealous.”
Giving a start—he hadn’t expected such a response from a young lady—Tom chuckled softly.“You like to travel?”
“I’m sure I would if I ever had the chance,” she replied.“Oh, I’ve been all over England of course, but I should love to tour the Continent, see Africa,” she gushed.“Go to my grandmother’s home country.”
“Home country?”he repeated, sure she was about to mention Germany.
“Greece,” she stated.“One of the islands of Greece.”
Tom guffawed.“I...I would not have guessed,” he said.“We’re planning to go to Greece.To Athens, of course.Mayhap some of the islands.”He glanced around again.“Might you allow me a dance this evening, my lady?”
“Of course.”
She held up her wrist, and he wrote “Forster” on the line for one of the waltzes.He couldn’t help but notice there were no other names on the card, but then, the ball had barely begun.“You’re allowed, I hope?”he asked.“A waltz?”
Helen grinned.“I am.I rather doubt there is anyone here who is not allowed,” she added.
“Oh?”he replied.“My mother once mentioned she could not waltz during her first year in Society.Apparently she could perform it at some place called Almack’s, although she had to have some sort of special dispensation to do so.”
Tittering, Helen said, “My mother wasn’t allowed, either, but the first time she waltzed with my father at a ball, he stepped on her foot.”
Tom nearly choked on the sip of champagne he had drunk and regarded her with disbelief.“You...you’re not joking?”
Helen’s light laughter lit up her features, its musical sound bringing a brilliant smile to his lips.“I am not.And although they were not betrothed until a year or so later, I rather doubt she held that unfortunate dance against him.”
“Well, I should endeavor to avoid stepping on your slippers during our dance, my lady,” he said, hoping his wince went unnoticed.He hadn’t actually practiced the waltz in over a year.It wasn’t as if he had much of a chance where he lived near Bampton-on-the-Bush.
“She was far more annoyed when he didn’t seem to recognize her the next time they met,” Helen commented.
“How could he not?”Tom asked in confusion.
“Well, she was in the water.The Aegean Sea, to be exact.So her hair would have been wet.”
Tom swallowed at the thought of meeting a young woman in the Aegean Sea.“He must have thought her a mermaid,” he guessed in awe.
“Aphrodite, actually,” she said in a hoarse whisper, one of her blonde brows arched in a tease.
Sure his face was red with embarrassment—was she suggesting her mother had been unclothed at the time?—Tom dipped his head and took a long draught of the champagne, nearly draining the glass of its bubbles.
“Oh, dear.Now I’ve said too much—or embarrassed you—and you’re wondering how you can remove your name from my dance card,” she said in mock dismay.
He shook his head.“No.No,” he replied, waving a hand to emphasize his response.“I was actually thinking of how fortuitous it was for him to have met the love of his life so far from England.As if...”He paused.“As if he was granted a second chance.”
From the expression on Helen’s face, he knew he had redeemed himself.“Perhaps when it becomes too much of a crush in here, we can take a turn in the gardens?I understand Lady Morganfield is quite proud of her roses.”
Helen nodded.“I’d like that, Mr.Forster.”
“Thereyou are, darling.”
Tom stiffened at hearing the sound of Cherise, Marchioness of Devonville.“Grandmama,” he said, turning to bow to the beautiful matron who had married his grandfather about the same time his mother had married his father.“Lady Devonville, have you met Lady Helen?”
