Page 4

“Of course.” Selina led the way back to the small alcove where they had taken refuge before. Miss Winser had returned to her mother and did not join them.

“Well?” Selina asked. “How was your first set of the evening?”

“Everything I had hoped it would be!” Phoebe gushed. “He was patient with my mistakes and quick to poke fun at his own. And he had such a kind smile. ”

Selina’s memory flashed back to her own first dance. It had been a tedious minuet with George, and they had already been engaged. There had been no other partners. In retrospect, Selina wondered if her parents had insisted on that due to a fear her eyes or heart might wander.

So, Selina had never felt the exhilaration of standing across the set from a young gentleman, wondering how he regarded her, excited at the prospect of their hands touching. She had been promised before she had been permitted to dream.

“He is still staring,” Phoebe said after catching her breath.

“Hm?” Selina pulled herself back to the present.

“Mr. Drake,” Phoebe said. “He seems quite taken with you.”

Selina forced herself not to look at Mr. Drake, though it took all her willpower. Was he as handsome as she had thought him before? What would it feel like to dance with him? “With my fortune, you mean.”

“It is possible,” she granted, though with a great deal of skepticism. “But is it not also possible that he is simply struck by your beauty? What if he knows nothing of your fortune?”

Selina opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it again. Phoebe was generous to a fault; it was unlikely that explaining the ways of the world to her would convince her.

“Might you not dance with him, Selina?” Phoebe pleaded. “Just once! It seems a terrible shame for you to spend the entire evening in such a beautiful, idyllic place without dancing at all—particularly when you have eager partners like Mr. Drake.”

It was an idyllic place. No doubt, that was why Selina’s mind insisted on conjuring up an idyllic, alternative past to match—one in which she danced all evening, each set with a different partner, wondering when she would be able to continue the acquaintances.

“I can hardly dance with a gentleman I do not know,” Selina teased. “And I am quite content as I am, Phoebe. But thank you for being so attentive to my enjoyment. I am far more interested in yours , however. ”

“Do you mean to say that, if you were acquainted with Mr. Drake, you would agree to dance with him?”

Selina laughed at her persistence, sliding her ring up and down her finger to adjust it.

“Do you not find him handsome?” Phoebe pressed.

Selina’s eyes stole to him, where he was laughing with the gentleman beside him. Her heart fluttered, and she pulled her eyes away.

“Of course you do,” Phoebe said. “Anyone would.”

“I will allow that he is handsome,” Selina granted, “but what odds does that make? I meant what I said, my dear: I have no intention of marrying again.”

“But it is not as though dancing with a gentleman will lead directly to a marriage with him,” Phoebe argued.

“True, but?—”

“And who is to say you might not find a friend in him? Surely, you do not mean to claim you have no desire for friendship.”

Selina’s mouth stretched wide. “I welcome friends, Phoebe, but all of this is purely hypothetical and, thus, a grand waste of precious time you might be spending on the ballroom floor. Come. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Gilbert. I think you will find him every bit as amiable as your last partner.”

Phoebe looked as though she might press the matter, but when Selina rose from their place, she followed. Soon, she was happily engaged, dancing an energetic reel, which Selina watched with a smile from a distance.

She could not keep her gaze from veering toward Mr. Drake for long, but he was not where he had been. Her gaze traveled down the set and around the immediate area, but she did not find him. Had he left?

Why did that thought elicit a little prick of disappointment? She did not know Mr. Drake even a whit. All this dwelling on the past was addling her brain.

She reached for her ring, and her stomach dropped. Her gloved finger was bare.

Her heart raced as she picked up her skirts, her eyes searching the grass near her feet.

There was no telling glint, though. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember when she had last felt the ring on her finger.

She should not have worn gloves of silk mesh—they were far thinner than the ones she generally favored.

She glanced at Phoebe, still dancing merrily, then began to retrace her steps, her gaze fixed on the grass.

It was strange to feel so anxious about losing it, for though she wore it always, she had come to hate it.

It was a reminder that she had been George’s favorite accessory, much like the expensive and extremely bright waistcoats he had favored.

She had taken to wearing the ring as a reminder not to allow herself to become anyone else’s diamond—something to be polished and flaunted and discarded at will.

“Excuse me.”

She turned and sucked in a breath of surprise to find Mr. Drake addressing her. She was obliged to lift her chin to look at him, for he was taller than she had expected.

Taller and more handsome. His striking brown eyes were intelligent and warm, and his smile…well, his smile was nothing short of charming.

“Does this belong to you, ma’am?” He held out his palm, and her diamond ring sparkled from its place in the center.

She let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, thank heaven!” She reached for it, but his fingers suddenly closed around the ring. Her eyes flew to his, her relief replaced with confusion.

“How can I be certain?” he asked with a brow cocked, though his eyes teased.

She suppressed a smile. He had come to her , after all. He must have seen her searching for it—perhaps he even saw her drop it. “Is my frantic examination of the lawn insufficient evidence?”

He seemed to consider this. “Intriguing but insufficient, I fear.”

“Given the shockingly high number of other people here doing the same thing,” she said .

He smiled. “Precisely.”

“And, pray tell, sir, what would constitute sufficient evidence? Perhaps this indentation on my glove where it was worn?” She held up her hand for him to see. “Or my knowledge of the inscription on the inside of the ring?”

Curiosity flashed in his eyes, and her cheeks infused with heat.

She had mentioned the inscription without thinking. What if he asked her what it said? Or looked at it for himself?

“You make a convincing case, ma’am.” He unfurled his fingers again and allowed her to take it.

“Thank you, Mr….”

“Sebastian Drake.” He offered a well-executed bow. “At your service.” His mouth quirked up at one edge. “Will you think poorly of me if I admit that I already know your name? I was brazen enough to ask it of one of my friends when I saw you arrive. I could not help myself.”

Selina could not decide how to respond, for there were two ways to interpret what he said: she might choose to be flattered that he had gone to the trouble of discovering her name—or she might realize that if he had inquired about her, he would know of her fortune.

“Well, you have spared me a great deal of worry,” she said as she replaced the ring on her finger, “not to mention saving me quite the walk. I was retracing my steps, of which there were far more than I realized.” She glanced behind her at the ground she had covered before Mr. Drake had found her.

“There are certainly worse places to do such a thing.”

“Indeed, there are. In fact…perhaps we should take a turn about the gardens—to ensure you did not lose anything else, of course.” His eyes twinkled.

“But I have not ventured into the gardens,” she pointed out, again torn between flattery and wariness. He was inarguably charming—which made him all the more dangerous.

Not every charming gentleman is a fortune hunter . Selina could almost hear Phoebe’s rejoinder in her mind .

“Who is to say you might not find something of value there despite that?” Mr. Drake countered. “I myself happened upon a diamond this evening.”

Selina couldn’t help but laugh just as Mr. Gilbert returned with Phoebe. He deposited her into Selina’s care, then made his excuses and left to take his mother home.

Once he had gone, Phoebe’s gaze turned to Mr. Drake, then to Selina, unabashedly expectant—and just a little amused, as though despite all Selina’s words against Mr. Drake, she had arranged to meet him.

“Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Drake,” Selina said. “Mr. Drake, this is Miss Grant, the sister of my sister-in-law.”

“A sister two times, then. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Grant.” Mr. Drake bowed, and Phoebe made her curtsy.

“I misplaced my ring at some point during the evening,” Selina explained, “and Mr. Drake was good enough to return it to me.”

“How very kind of him,” Phoebe said, shooting a glance at Selina that she purposefully ignored. Did Phoebe truly think this proved anything about his character?

“Anyone would have done as much,” Mr. Drake replied meekly.

“I think not,” Phoebe said. “Regardless, we are glad to add such a noble spirit to those we call friends. Are we not?” She turned to Selina, looking at her expectantly.

“Of course,” Selina replied politely. She did not wish to be rude to Mr. Drake, but neither did she wish to encourage Phoebe. Though, clearly, she required no such thing in order to think very highly indeed of Mr. Drake. Perhaps she would fall in love with him.

“Ah, look,” Phoebe said. “The next set is about to form.” She smiled at Mr. Drake, then Selina, her meaning clear.

Selina would box her ears the moment they were alone in the carriage. She had not known Phoebe could be so…managing .

“So it is,” Mr. Drake replied with slight amusement. “Might I request the honor of a dance, Mrs. Lawrence?”

For all her determination to decline, Selina hesitated momentarily.

George had been the first gentleman she had ever danced with and the only one she had danced with before marriage.

Of course, she had later danced with his friends at parties and gatherings, but then no one at all since his death.

Some part of her wondered what it would feel like to dance with a handsome, charming gentleman outside of the confines of marriage.

She grasped the ring tightly. Was she truly considering the notion of dancing with a suspected fortune hunter to satisfy some years-old, childish curiosity?

“I am not at liberty to dance this evening,” she said. “I have important duties.” She smiled at Phoebe.

It occurred to her that the result of this comment might be for Mr. Drake to ask Phoebe to dance. It would hardly be responsible for her to allow her charge to dance with a man she feared to harbor ulterior motives.

“I promised to introduce you to Lord Essop, did I not?” Selina added quickly. “And he appears to be at liberty now.”

Phoebe shook her head. “I would not for the world have you refuse a dance on my account. I can stay with Miss Winser?—”

Selina grabbed her hand, mouth arranged in a determined smile. “On no account will I abandon you. My duty to you happens to be both important and enjoyable. I thank you for the offer, Mr. Drake, but I must refuse.”

Phoebe’s returning grasp was every bit as laden with meaning, and for a moment, they communicated and fought in the language of forceful squeezes.

“I would not wish to deprive Miss Grant,” Mr. Drake said. “Or Lord Essop, for that matter.”

“You might call upon us tomorrow,” Phoebe suggested, abandoning the silent war with Selina and adopting more direct tactics.

Selina forced a laugh. “My dear Phoebe”—Selina emphasized the word dear —“we cannot possibly trouble Mr. Drake in such a way.”

“It would be no trouble at all,” he said. “I would be most happy to call upon you tomorrow. If it is convenient, of course.”

Phoebe’s hand found Selina’s and squeezed it meaningfully.

Selina squeezed it back with more force than was necessary.

She considered fabricating an excuse that would preclude them from receiving Mr. Drake the following day, but if she did so, Phoebe would undoubtedly suggest the next day, then the day after, and so on until Selina was forced to choose between unforgivable rudeness or accepting his call.

“Certainly,” Selina replied.

She provided him with their direction, and he graciously excused himself to ensure Phoebe was able to secure her partner for the set.

“Do you mean to ship me back to my parents first thing tomorrow morning?” Phoebe asked as Selina guided them toward Lord Essop.

“Certainly not,” Selina replied genially. “I shan’t be done boxing your ears until at least tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, Selina,” Phoebe said with amusement, “I think you should have danced with him! I saw no evidence that he is a fortune hunter.”

“Are you so familiar with the signs? Perhaps you underestimate him.”

“Perhaps you do.”

Selina regarded her with amusement and affection. “You are determined to think the best of Mr. Drake.”

“While you seem determined to think the worst of him.”

Selina pressed her lips together, unable to counter this. “You think me heartless and cynical.”

“I could never think such awful things of you! I merely think you too quick to dismiss a charming man who has plenty of reason other than your fortune for wishing to become better acquainted with you. ”

They reached Lord Essop, preventing further debate. Selina made the appropriate introductions, and his lordship invited Phoebe to join him on the ballroom floor.

Selina sought out the refreshments, reflecting on Phoebe’s words. Was she dismissing Mr. Drake too quickly?

Perhaps.

The truth was that she was not altogether upset at the prospect of his promised call. She could not deny her own curiosity over his intentions, which she trusted would become clear.