A waltz was announced. Both Miss Danverses were asked to dance, and with wide smiles they allowed themselves to be escorted onto the dance floor. The orchestra swelled around him, the most powerful and eloquent notes filtering through the air, music he had missed more than he realized, and not once did Alexander remove his regard from the dancing figure of Kitty Danvers.
It was in his arms she should be; the inane thought ran through his mind on a loop.
“You are staring at your fiancée, quite shamelessly I might add.” Cousin Miranda sniffed.
“That I am.”
And he would not apologize for it or pretend gentlemanly contrition. He had the urge to be the one dancing with her, holding her close, perhaps directing her away through one of the terrace doors to steal a kiss.
Odd, that. This was the second time in as little as a day he’d thought about kissing her. For the first time in years, Alexander felt as if he did not know himself.
What am I to really do with you, Miss Danvers?
…
Kitty stood on the fringes of Lady Carnforth’s ballroom away from the fashionable crowd, content with rejecting her third offer to dance. One waltz had been enough. Chandeliers sparkled with hundreds of candles shedding rich light on handsome men and gorgeously gowned women, strolling about in silks and satins as they laughed and twirled around the expanse of the ballroom.
The fashionable elites were in their element, and Kitty had never felt more out of place.
She was in attendance only because the duke had used his influence, and it was this morning an invitation had been delivered to Portman Square with a personal note apologizing for the oversight from Lady Carnforth herself. Her mother and Anna had been beside themselves with glee, and the house had been filled with peals of laughter and excited chattering. Hours later, dressed in their best ball gowns, with hair styled into the artful chignons with tendrils kissing their shoulders, Kitty and Anna had made their way to the ball with their mother.
She had lost her mother in the crowd, but Anna she could see, her radiant smile seeming to light the entire ballroom, wearing her admiration of the baron openly for all the world to observe and speculate. If she were not careful, the rumors could turn sly, considering he’d not yet declared himself in any promising fashion. Even though Kitty admitted the baron as he stared at her sister appeared equally besotted—if not more.
With a heavy sigh, she snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman.
“The newssheets tomorrow will speak of your droll boredom and marvel that you could be aloof at such a remarkable event, which boasts a twenty-piece orchestra and the king himself, who is yet to arrive.”
Kitty whirled around, grinning. “Dear Ophelia, how glad I am to see you.”
Her friend was exquisitely gowned in a dark yellow ball gown, her wild beauty appearing more delicate and ethereal than ever. She had been the only friend out of their set likely to be invited to Lady Carnforth’s illustrious ball.
“I’m incredibly pleased to see you as well, Kitty. I dare say my night will not be so tedious anymore, for I have your delightful company,” Ophelia said with a pleased grin.
Kitty laughed. “I, too, am glad for your company.”
“You do appear out of sorts. Is all well with Thornton?”
At the mention of the duke, her stomach flipped alarmingly, and she did everything in her power to not glance toward the shadowed balcony. Quickly she recounted to Ophelia all that had happened.
Ophelia shot her an astonished glance. “I should mention within the next few days to our friends that you’ll be visiting your aunt in Derbyshire for a couple of weeks, but y
ou’ll not be visiting Aunt Effie but with the duke in Scotland?”
A flush worked over Kitty’s face. “Yes,” she said, meeting her friend’s eyes unflinchingly. “I want everyone to think that is where I am. I’ll confess all once I’ve returned and there are no rumors, of course.”
“Oh dear,” Ophelia said. “That is quite scandalous indeed. Are you by chance developing feelings for him?”
“Of course not!” But the denial sounded hollow to her ears. “I’ve only just met the man, and he is decidedly peculiar and unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I like his oddities and I truly think we could be friends. It is unusual, is it not, that none of us is friends with someone of the opposite sex? It promises to be quite interesting.”
“Yet, my dear Katherine, you seem perturbed.”
She lowered her head conspiratorially, and Ophelia obligingly dipped hers in turn. “He has demanded I visit him without the benefit of a chaperone. I’m to travel alone to Scotland with the duke.”
“How terribly exciting!” Ophelia gasped, her eyes twinkling.
“It is outrageous, that’s what it is,” Kitty cried, unable to still the flutters in her stomach. “However disagreeable the thought of being with the duke in such an unusual situation may be, I am determined to bear it.”
“Perhaps it is an opportunity.”