Page 23 of I Never Forget a Duke (The Night Fire Club #1)

M ary, the Sweeney residence’s lady’s maid, slid the last pin into place and admired her handiwork.

“You look lovely, Lady Adele,” said Mary.

Adele stood and walked to the mirror on the other side of the room.

She did look… better than usual. Mary had taken a hot iron to Adele’s hair to help it curl in the fashionable way and had pinned it up in artfully, with a few loose tendrils framing Adele’s face.

Adele’s formal gown was perhaps a year or two out of fashion, but it was one of the few things she’d saved from her wedding trousseau.

It was a gorgeous gown of pale-yellow silk with lace trim around the sleeves and neckline.

Adele had always loved this dress. And, indeed, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she thought she looked the most beautiful she ever had.

Wilton came to the door. “Your father is here, my lady. He is waiting for you at the base of the stairs.”

“Let us not keep him waiting much longer,” said Adele. “How do I look?”

“Splendid, my lady.”

Adele smiled to herself, feeling giddy. It had been a long time since she’d gone to a ball.

She often told herself she did not miss these sorts of events, but in all honesty, she had quite enjoyed prettying herself up to mingle with her social betters with the hopes a handsome man would ask her to dance.

She doubted anything like that would happen this evening, but perhaps her father would ask her to dance and he’d inspire one of the men there to take his place.

She descended the staircase. Her father was waiting there with a smile on his face.

His clothes were a bit over the top; he’d dressed as a dandy but was perhaps too old to pull it off.

He wore formal breeches with crisp white stockings, though the breeches had buttons at the hem covered in red-and-white striped fabric.

His jacket was bright red and he wore a ruffled shirt with a high collar that masked the sides of his face.

The proportions were exaggerated, although the jacket seemed well-fitted.

“Papa, is this the latest fashion?” She flicked a finger at one of the ruffles near his neck.

“The Prince Regent was dressed just like this the last time I saw him at a formal event, although his jacket was, naturally, in the military style. He had gold buttons and epaulets.” The earl gestured at his shoulders. “You look quite pretty, my dear.”

“Thank you.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we be off?”

“Yes.” She smiled and took his arm.

The Wakefield ball was clearly the event of the week.

The Canbury carriage was caught up in the traffic building around the Wakefield residence.

It took them nearly a half hour to reach the red carpet that had been laid out to welcome the guests to the ball.

Adele tried to school her face so that she looked like she felt like she belonged, when really she was in awe.

The women entering the Wakefield home were dressed impeccably, with beautiful gowns and perfectly coifed hair and sparkling jewelry.

Adele felt plain by contrast, but she was enchanted by how beautiful everything was.

They arrived at a grand entryway and followed the crowd to the ballroom. They entered a balcony before a short staircase where each arrival was announced.

“The Viscount and Viscountess Hayes! Lord and Lady Morrow! Baron Fielding and his son Lord Berkley! The Earl of Canbury and his daughter Lady Adele!”

Adele’s father offered his arm again, so she took it and let him escort her down the stairs.

She had been so long out of society that she hardly recognized anyone.

She turned to begin a conversation with her father, hoping he’d keep her company, but he was already engaged in what looked like an intense conversation with another man.

“I shall find some refreshments for us,” she said.

He nodded and returned to his conversation.

With a sigh, Adele crossed the ballroom and found a servant ladling cups of lemonade.

She waited behind a line of party guests and examined the other fare offered at the table.

She’d had dinner before leaving for the party and was grateful now, for there was not much in the way of food aside from some tiny cakes.

“Lady Adele?”

Adele turned and found Larkin Woodville standing beside her. She gave him a shallow curtsy and said, “Lord Waring, it is refreshing to see you.”

“Agreed. You are waiting for lemonade?”

“Yes. It is quite warm in here and I thought to bring some to my father.” She turned to look for her father and saw that the group of men around him had grown. “I suspect he’s forgotten all about me.”

“Government business undoubtedly.”

It was finally Adele’s turn. She motioned to Lark to ask if he wanted anything.

When he shook his head, she took one cup of lemonade.

She stepped away from the table and took a sip.

The lemonade was warmer and sweeter than she would have liked.

She looked up and saw that Lark still stood beside her.

She smiled at him. “You don’t have to keep me company, although I would be much obliged if you spoke with me for a few minutes. I haven’t been to a crush like this in years and I do not know many people. I assumed my father would introduce me, but he’s clearly engaged in other business.”

It occurred to Adele then that Lark’s presence at this ball meant Hugh might be there somewhere as well. She’d known that was a possibility but had been trying not to think about it. She was about to ask where he was when she heard the announcement from the balcony.

“The Duke of Swynford and the Dowager Duchess of Swynford.”

Adele turned and saw Hugh standing with an older woman—his mother presumably—on his arm. He escorted her down the stairs, but as soon as his foot hit the main floor of the ballroom, a crowd descended on him.

“That all seems to be in order,” said Lark. “His last social event was the Rutherford ball the night he turned up on your doorstep. It may be some time before he can escape.”

“I didn’t come here to see him. My father invited me.”

Lark nodded. “I assumed as much. I think he will be glad to see you, though.”

“Do you think so?”

“Your name has come up in conversation a few times.”

Adele shook her head, feeling embarrassed. “I’m afraid I did not leave things well. That is, I did not say good-bye to him the day he left. I merely left him a brief note.”

“Did you not want to say good-bye?”

“No. That is, of course, that I wanted to see him off, but I was feeling sad about his departure. I did not want him to leave. So I took a coward’s way out.” She pressed a hand over her mouth. “I should not have said that much.”

“It’s all right. I seem to be everyone’s secret keeper of late. I will not breathe a word.”

“I appreciate that.” She glanced about. “You mentioned the night he ended up in my company as the last time he attended a ball. Have you come any closer to determining how he ended up with his head injury? Does he remember?”

“No. I’ve paid a guard to keep an eye on him because I fear danger might still be about. It bothers me that we still do not know what happened.”

“Indeed, I’ve been worried about his safety. It is some consolation that he is guarded.”

The string quartet set up near the dance floor struck up the opening notes of a country dance. Adele tried not to look too wistful.

“May I have this dance, my lady,” asked Lark.

“Yes,” she said and let herself be escorted to the floor.

She did not think Lark was interested in her in a romantic or matrimonial way.

He seemed to have his own interests. She at least recalled the simple steps of the dance while facing Lark and wondering at his motives here.

He could have been dancing with her as cover for something, or to be nice to her, or just for the pleasure of dancing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Lark exactly.

He had only ever been honest with her. It was more that she knew he had his own agenda.

He followed the steps of the dance with practiced ease, but his attention was clearly elsewhere.

He looked Adele over, as if he were evaluating her dancing abilities, but then his gaze would shift elsewhere in the room.

Sometimes he looked at the other dancers, sometimes he looked across the room.

Adele couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking.

Not that her attention was fully on the dance. She tried not to think about Hugh, but it was like she could feel his presence in the room, even when her back was to him.

When the country dance ended, she curtsied to Lark again and he shot her a smile she did not know how to interpret.

When the quartet began to play a waltz, Adele decided she’d go get one of the little cakes from the refreshment table, mostly just for something to do.

A woman snared Lark’s arm and pulled him to the side for a conversation, leaving Adele quite alone again.

But when she turned to head that way, she found her way blocked by a broad chest. She gasped when she looked up and saw Hugh gazing back at her.

“I claim this waltz,” Hugh said, his voice not leaving room for argument.

Adele was so baffled by this that she couldn’t do much more than stammer, “Surely every woman in the room has you on their dance cards.”

“No.” He held out his hand for her.

Dazed, Adele took it.

*

It wasn’t so much that Hugh was jealous because he’d recognized what Lark was trying to do. And it wasn’t like there was much intimacy in something as perfunctory and chaste as an English country dance. And yet something about seeing Adele take steps with Lark had pulled Hugh across the room.

And now he had her. She felt good in his arms, like she fit there, like she belonged there. Being in her presence soothed something in Hugh. He was reminded quite suddenly that the last time she’d been in his arms, they’d been making love.