The Season

Alex snapped her head back and offered a sheepish apology to her mother, then lowering her voice to a whisper and speaking close to the duchess's ear, "That woman turned away the Duke ofWellington?" referencing the legendary piece of gossip that would certainly afford Lady Sarah Jersey a place in the annals of London's aristocratic history. The Duke of Wellington — a war hero of the first water and a duke no less — had been set down by this wisp of a woman? Denied entry to Almack's? A place made famous by satin flounces and weak lemonade? What kind of rules was this society perpetuating?

"Indeed. He arrived wearing trousers instead of knee breeches."

Alex couldn't help rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of such a perceived infraction. Her father noticed and spoke drily, "Never fear, moppet. My understanding is that Lady Jersey's lesson has served him well in battle. He wouldn't dream of meeting Napoleon in anything less than the most current of fashions."

"And thank goodness for that," Alex responded, her feigned seriousness drawing a bark of laughter from her father.

"I do wish you wouldn't encourage her," the duchess said to him, covering her obvious amusement with an exasperated sigh before turning back to her daughter. "Are you ready for your debut, Alexandra?"

"Do I have the option of saying no?" she asked, the hint of sarcasm in her voice drawing a quelling look from her mother.

"Not in the least. I've been waiting for this moment for far too long. You are going to ..."

"Yes, yes. Set the ton on its ear." Alex interrupted, taking a deep breath and shoring up her confidence. It was time, whether she liked it or not. «Well, then. I rather think we should get started, don't you?"

***

"What a crush!"

Alex took hold of Ella's hand and pulled her friend into an alcove off the main ball room of Almack's, away from the mass of London's nobility. "And people do this every week?" Making sure they were tucked away behind a significantly sized potted fern, Alex leaned against a marble column. "I'm never coming here again if I can help it."

Ella chuckled and leaned close to her friend with an impish gleam in her eye. "And now I am at Almack's, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place!"

Laughing at her friend's rendition of a line from her favorite Shakespearean play, Alex then completed it. "But travelers must be content! Oh ... what I wouldn't give to be in a forest far away from titles of any kind!" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If I am cornered by Lord Waring one more time, I shall have to feign sickness. I may counterfeit a swoon to avoid having to speak to him again!"

"I shall keep my smelling salts at the ready." Ella peeked through the plant to be certain no one was listening to them. "I noticed him mincing after you.

Your mother must have been happy to see it. He is, after all , a marquess."

"Indeed. The Marquess of Excruciating dullness. Lord 'Waring' is right. He's wearing on my patience."

The girls laughed a touch too loudly, checked themselves, and grinned. Ella spoke. "You shall see us both into a grip of trouble if you keep on like that, Alex. What will our mothers say if we are discovered laughing too loudly! And mere hours after being presented to the Prince Regent!"

"I thought I heard you two laughing!" Vivi poked her head around the plant. "I was wondering where you were hiding." Taking note of the nook, she tilted her head in approval. She tucked herself into the small space and gave a mock appraisal. "Very nice. Quite spacious!"

"There is still more room than out there," Alex said with an unladylike cock of her head. "Is it getting any better?"

"Not remotely. But it's just eleven, which means no one else can enter — so that's something." Vivi peered through the leaves of the palm, scanning the room. "Why anyone would look forward to an evening at Almack's is beyond me. I've had my toes stepped on twice, the Dowager Duchess of Lockwood poked me with her walking stick — on purpose — and I narrowly avoided a lemonade mishap at the hands of Lord Waring." She sighed and looked back at her friends. "You don't appear to have been doing much better!"

Resuming her overview of the ball room, Vivi took note of a tall , handsome young man and lifted an eyebrow at Alex. "However, I did happen to see you laughing with Lord Stanhope during a quadril e. Is there something you would like to tell your dearest friends?"

Alex shook her head. "I'm afraid nothing of note. I've known Freddie for years. He and will were at school together. He was just being kind and making certain that I had my dance card filled." She peered over her friend's shoulder through the plant to see the object of their conversation offer one of the grande dames of the ton a glass of lemonade, with a bold grin. "He is charming, though." She paused. "And fun."

"And quite attractive," Ella chimed in.

Alex turned to her friends. "And an inveterate rake."

Vivi nodded. "Truer words were never spoken." The young Earl of Stanhope's reputation preceded him. "But if anyone's safe with Stanhope, it's you, Alex. Your brothers would have his head if he overstepped his bounds."

"Speaking of..." Ella was peering through the fern, "Your brothers have arrived. all of them." Laughter edged into her voice. "And they're being swarmed."

"Really?" Alex turned and joined Ella at her lookout post. And there they were, all three of her brothers surrounded by a gaggle of cloying mothers and decorated daughters, all clamoring for an introduction.

Nick, ever the gentleman, was doing his best to appear interested. Kit was looking terrified, eyes darting this way and that, obviously desperate to escape. It was will , however, who caused a giggle to escape Alex. As the future duke, he was surrounded on all sides by eager females. But the eldest Stafford wasn't the young star of the War Office for nothing. Alex could see him working out a strategy for retreat even as he was enchantée- ing his way through the crowd. Within seconds, he had backed up to another gentleman, deftly shifted the attention from himself to his unsuspecting mark, and moved away toward their mother, who was waving him over.

"Remarkable," Alex whispered. It was a tactical disengagement that would have made Wellington proud. Taking a moment to admire her brother's skill at dealing with the ton, Alex made a mental note to ask him for a tutorial when next she saw him. Redirecting her gaze to the mass of femininity he had escaped, Alex waited for will 's replacement to turn his face toward her. She wondered who could so easily capture the attentions originally directed at an heir to a dukedom — or was will just that skilled with such evasive maneuvers? Whoever it was stood at the same height as Nick and Kit, towering above the women around him. The way he was positioned made him impossible to recognize, but Alex couldn't help but notice his broad shoulders and blond hair falling attractively over the collar of his waistcoat.

Alex checked herself. Since when did hair fall attractively? Irritated with herself for noting something so inane, she turned away from her spying to resume her conversation with Ella and Vivi, who were consulting their dance cards.

"Are you ready to reenter the fray?" She asked a touch too quickly — hoping that her friends wouldn't notice.

The girls agreed it was time to come out of hiding, for fear someone might find their spot and ruin it for future nights. As casually as possible, Vivi exited the alcove, followed by Ella, with Alex bringing up the rear. The madness began immediately.

"Lady Vivian! I thought perhaps you had left! I was nigh perishing at the thought." Vivi was virtually accosted by the eldest, and one would hope most dramatic, son of Viscount Sudberry.

Ella found herself instantly distracted by Lord Sumner. "My dear Lady Eleanor, I have been searching for you everywhere. Never say you haven't a free dance on your card?"

"Lady Alexandra! I believe this is my dance!" Alex turned toward the nasal voice and, hiding her grimace, pasted a bright smile on her face. "Why, Lord Waring, I believe you are right." Turning back to her friends, she mouthed, Rescue me! Vivi leaned in close and whispered, "Meet us on the other side of the room after the cot

illion." With no time to respond, Alex was escorted to the dance floor.

For the next few minutes, she gave special thanks to her maker that country dances were the rage in London this year — the cotillion involved multiple sets of paired partners, so she was able to, for the most part, avoid tedious conversation with Lord Waring. When, at the end of the dance, he suggested that they take a turn about the ball room, she swallowed a quick NO! and instead replied, "That sounds lovely. However, I find that I am quite parched.

Would you mind terribly escorting me to the refreshment rooms?"

Instead, eager to please, Waring offered to take her directly to Ella and Vivi, who had somehow escaped their suitors and were deep in conversation on the sidelines of the ball room. From there, he insisted, he would fetch her lemonade — and anything else she required — for fear she would find herself too parched from the walk all the way to the refreshments. Recognizing a boon when she saw one, Alex swallowed her snide response to his theory that an additional ten feet of walking would put her out of commission for the evening. Graciously accepting Lord Waring's offer, Alex refocused her attention on her friends and the man with whom they were conversing.

It was the same man she had noticed through the potted fern. He still had his back to her, but she was getting to know that side of him quite well . His shoulders were broader still than they had seemed when she was spying on him. They were certainly a defining characteristic, and she noted with appreciation the way his tailor had fitted his black jacket to them like a second skin. Taking in the cut of the garment drew her attention back to his hair, which she realized was a more golden shade of blond than she had first thought.

She mentally shook herself, growing irritated with her own idiocy. She'd spent most of her life around men and, from the looks of him, this one was no different from her brothers in age or station. Why was she being so silly? Who was he, anyway? How did he know Vivi and Ella?

As Alex and Waring drew closer, Vivi saw them and turned a brilliant smile in their direction. Taking his cue from Vivi's distraction, the man turned and Alex skipped a step in surprise. She lost her grip on Waring's sleeve and, in an attempt to save herself from a devastatingly embarrassing moment of clumsiness, instead caught herself on the arm of the golden-haired, broad-shouldered object of her interest.

Looking up through her lashes, she met his gaze — eyes she knew as well as her own — which just happened to be laughing down at her.

"Blackmoor." The name came out on a shocked whoosh of breath. Blackmoor? Truly? Blackmoor was the man she'd been noticing? Surely that couldn't be right. Could it? Looking up into his grey eyes, Alex could feel heat flooding her face. She pressed a cool, gloved hand to her face, willing the blush away. She never blushed. What had gotten into her? She pasted a smile on her face and looked at the others in the group. Vivi was attempting to manage a serene smile despite her clear desire to laugh, and Ella was looking at Alex with an odd expression, as though she were some creature to be studied in a laboratory.

Attempting to regain her composure, she looked up at Blackmoor and spoke, her voice sounding foreign even to her. "Lord Blackmoor. Good evening."

"Lady Alexandra, as always, the evening is made more entertaining by your arrival." He made certain that she was upright and stable before removing his arm. "Waring." He nodded in greeting to his old acquaintance.

"Good evening, Blackmoor, Lady Vivian, Lady Eleanor. you’ll have to excuse me. If Lady Alexandra is well enough for me to leave, I have promised to fetch her some lemonade. May I bring some for you as well ?"

Vivi responded, "In fact, Lord Waring, Lady Eleanor and I were about to take a turn about the room. We shall join you as far as the refreshment rooms, that is, if you can suffer our company."

Ever impressed with her friend's grace and tact, Alex watched, a trifle dumbfounded, as Vivi wove her tale for Lord Waring — ensuring that he could not refuse to walk with her and Ella without appearing the most boorish type of man. Of course, presented with Vivi in all her gentle graciousness, Alex would wager that Waring would forget her within moments of departing with his new charges. Vivi's skill at reshaping men's desires was uncanny, but Alex was too grateful for her friend's intervention with Waring to question it more than in passing. Instead, she simply offered a silent prayer of thanks for Lady Vivian Markwell and her unwavering talent.

So caught up in her friend's deftness, Alex forgot that she had been unceremoniously left with Blackmoor. Almost forgot, that is. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a breath; he was about to speak. She steeled herself for what she was certain would be a teasing remark about her clumsiness and attempted a look of polite disinterest in preparation for his comment.

"Would you care to dance, Alex?"

Polite interest switched to confusion. That was not what she had been expecting. Before she could find words to respond, Blackmoor had led her onto the dance floor and wrapped her up in his arms for her first waltz of the evening. Her first waltz ever with a man who was not her brother. They were twirling across the room when she finally found her tongue.

"I would, indeed, care to dance, Lord Blackmoor," she said wryly. "How kind of you to ask. Would you like to see my dance card?"

Ignoring her sarcasm, he deftly avoided another couple and spun her out of their way. "You can't have expected me to let your first ball go by without dancing with you, Alex. Considering your obvious attempt to escape Waring, it seemed there was no time like the present. Don't you think?"

"I fail to see that I had much of a choice, frankly," she said with a smile. "But I suppose it could have been much worse."

"Oh? How?"

"You could have stepped on my gown — Waring did it twice."

He gazed down at her attire, letting a few moments go by before he spoke, his voice quieter, more thoughtful than usual. "Criminal. 'Tis a stunning gown."

Even Alex couldn't ignore the way his appreciative comment made her feel. Tempering the urge to preen, she smiled up at him. "Why, thank you, my lord. I'm rather fond of it myself."

He cleared his throat almost inaudibly and said, "You look beautiful, Alex. all grown up." Blackmoor's grey eyes darkened, narrowing on the garment in question, then rising to meet her gaze. The look in his eyes was one she'd never seen before, and it sent a tremor of excitement through her as she felt heat rising in her cheeks again.

He looked away, then back again, and the emotion she had seen there was gone, so quickly that she couldn't be certain it was ever there to begin with.

She forced a smile, attempting to bring the conversation back to the realm of the comfortable. "Thank you, my lord."

"If I may speak frankly?"

"Certainly."

"I know you want to try out all your lessons, but take care with whom you test your skill s. I noticed how Stanhope was looking at you earlier."

"Lord Stanhope was a charming partner." Alex met Blackmoor's eyes, daring him to disagree. "I'm certain I don't know to what you are referring."

"I think you know all too well to what I'm referring. Any man would have to be blind not to notice you. This dress is designed to lure a lion. I assure you that particular lion will bite."

"What are you saying?"

"Simply that I would prefer not to have to play protector tonight. I merely caution you to think twice before getting wrapped up with Stanhope, or any like him."

Alex's spine stiffened in response. Her tone turned frosty. "As usual, my lord, your caution — or shall I say interference? — is unnecessary. Need I remind you that I've been managing Freddie Stanhope since he was in short pants?"

His chuckle held no humor. "Take my advice, Alex. Your 'Freddie' is no longer in the schoolroom. And you're out of your league if you think you can, as you say, 'manage' him. Just because you wear a gown that marks you as all grown up doesn't mean you are prepared to take him on."

Alex's temper flared. "I require neither your advice, nor your opinion, my

lord. I would thank you to remember that, besides the fact that you're not that much older than I am, I already have a father — and three brothers. I hardly need another overbearing male telling me what to do and with whom to do it."

"More like what not to do. And with whom not to do it."

She inhaled in a sharp intake of air, eyes narrowing, and made a move to leave him mid-waltz. To an outside observer, nothing changed about their movements — but Alex felt Blackmoor's arms turn to stone around her. He held her fast, and tight, and his voice lowered. "You will finish this waltz with me, Alexandra. I will not allow you the pleasure of giving me a set-down at your first ball ."

Recognizing how damaging leaving him on the dance floor would have been to his reputation, not to mention her own, Alex remained in his arms, thoughts reeling. Why was she responding to him so strangely tonight? Ordinarily, she would have laughed off his concern. Clearly something was amiss. After all , hadn't she noticed the cut of his waistcoat, the width of his shoulders? In seventeen years, she had never noticed anything special about Gavin. And yet, even now, through her irritation and her anger, she was acutely aware of his hand on the small of her back, the heat of his gloved palm through the silk of her gown, the feel of his fingers resting against hers. What was wrong with her?

Alex looked up at him, searching his gaze for a hint of what he was really thinking. He was usually so unflappable, so calm, and yet — he had been tight with anger at the thought that Stanhope might have been interested in her. Was it possible he was experiencing the same mix of bizarre feelings that she was tonight? Could it be that he, too, had felt the tremor of emotion pass between them? Now his grey eyes were unreadable behind a mask of civility.

"I don't know what to say." She spoke quietly. "The excitement of the evening seems to have addled my brain a bit."