“Oh? Where is Devlin?” Alexandra asked.
“There, by that huge pot of flowers that is making everyone sneeze. I do wonder why Clorinda needs to pollinate her ballroom.”
Devlin? A duke’s son? What would a duke’s son want with her? She was practically a nobody from Twyley Grange.
The duchess gave an imperious nod toward a young man who smiled and nodded, and began a leisurely stroll toward them, pausing to chat with everyone in his path. It will take him an hour to get here, Corrie thought. How much could a man really want to dance with a lady if he didn’t have a little snap in his step?
His name was Devlin Archibald Monroe, earl of Convers, heir to the duke of Brabante, and Corrie thought he was very nice-looking indeed. He wasn’t much older than James, tall, black-eyed, and his face was as pale as the portrait of a vampire Corrie had seen in a forbidden book a century old, hidden at the back of her uncle’s bookshelf. He had a dark voice that sent lovely shivers up her back.
He smiled and showed no fangs, and that was a relief. She said her rehearsed speech, he looked amused, and when he asked her to waltz, she lightly placed her hand on his offered forearm and headed to the dance floor.
Not many minutes later, Alexandra heard a beloved voice and turned, a smile on her face. “Mother, you look altogether lovely this evening. I see Father has deserted you.”
“James, my dear. Your father escaped me after one dance to meet with some of his cronies in the library. It’s past ten o’clock. You’re here at last. Where have you and Jason been?”
James moved a bit closer since there were people nearby. “Jason and I wanted to meet with some men down at the docks. No, Mother, don’t chew my ear, there was no particular danger. Besides, Jase and I are very careful now, so please don’t worry or else I can’t tell you what we’re doing anymore.”
That was a powerful argument, but it was difficult to keep her mother’s worry and advice behind her teeth. She touched his cheek. “I won’t carp at you. Did you learn anything?”
“Yes and no. One of the men had come from Paris. He’d heard that an English nobleman was going to get his just desserts, nothing more than that. Perhaps it was the same person who informed the War Ministry.
“I asked if he’d heard of any children, but he didn’t know. He gave us another name, a captain on a fishing boat due up the Thames within the week. Will he know more? I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. Ah, where’s Corrie?”
“She’s dancing with Devlin Monroe, see over there, on the other side of the dance floor.”
James shook his head. “No, I don’t see her. I see Devlin, but not Corrie.”
Alexandra said, “Ah, James, give your greetings to Lady Montague and Sir Arthur Cochrane.”
James greeted Corrie’s Aunt Maybella, who was wearing her usual pale blue. He greeted Sir Arthur Cochrane with the deference he automatically accorded an older gentleman who had claims on his father’s friendship. Personally, he’d always believed that Sir Arthur needed to bathe more often and use less pomade on what was left of his hair.
He said to Maybella, “I’ve been trying to locate Corrie on the dance floor, ma’am.”
“Perhaps you can spot Devlin. He’s so very pale, you know, with those lovely dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Ah, the dance is ending. Here they come.”
“I see him, but I don’t recognize-” James’s jaw dropped.
CHAPTER TEN
Love is a universal migraine.
ROBERT GRAVES
JAMES STARED, SHOOK his head, looked at every female near to that approaching female, who was laughing, nearly skipping, her step was so light, so filled with excitement.
No, that couldn’t be Corrie Tybourne-Barrett. Not that creature with hair the color of rich autumn leaves, all piled up on top of her head with ringlets hanging in front of lovely little white ears that were pierced with small diamond studs. All right, maybe it was Corrie-but-his eyes were on her breasts, yes, there were breasts. How had she hidden this incredible creature so thoroughly? He pictured her breeches and old hat and shuddered. He looked at her breasts and shuddered again.
She was smiling at something Devlin said. She looked fresh and innocent, a babe ignorant of wickedness, and he knew he should warn her about Devlin.
“Hello, James.”
“Hello, Corrie. Devlin, did you purchase Mountjoy’s bay gelding?”
“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.”
“A bay gelding?” she asked. “A hunter?”
He nodded. “Yes, a fine addition to my stables. He likes to chase foxes at night, isn’t that nice?”