© 2010

June, 1819

“Thirkell, you know what happened the last time we went to one of the Ambersleighs’ do’s.” Lord Nevinstoke winced at the sound of a badly tuned piano from inside the town house. How had he let Thirkell talk him into this? “Can’t we go to Amy’s instead? She’s laid in some lovely French brandy, just for us.”

Thirkell rolled his eyes and shoved Nev up the steps. “After you’ve danced with my cousin, lent her some countenance, then we can go to Amy’s and get as drunk as you like.”

“But, Thirkell,” Percy said, “I don’t think we have any countenance to lend Harriet. We’re disreputable, remember? And as Nev has so accurately reminded us, the last time we attended one of Lady Ambersleigh’s little gatherings, the orchestra fled in hysterics.”

“Well, if she wouldn’t hire such bloody incompetent musicians,” Nev grumbled, “I wouldn’t have had to-”

“I’m sure she’s forgotten about that by now! Besides, Nev, your father’s an earl, and Percy here is-” Thirkell broke off.

“Yes?” Percy inquired poisonously. “What am I?”

“A very good dancer?” Nev suggested.

Thirkell shot him a grateful look. “Exactly what I was going to say. And we’re all bachelors. Lady Ambersleigh will be delighted.”

Lady Ambersleigh did not look delighted when the three young men were announced. Nev tried to avoid the eye of a young matron on whose new settee he had accidentally upended a punch bowl the month before, and that of an earl from whose son Percy had won almost two hundred pounds at piquet the week before, and that of a lady whom-oh, hell, he tried not to meet anyone’s eye.

“There.” Thirkell pointed to a mousy girl in the corner. “That’s my cousin Harriet. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

A few minutes later, Thirkell was dancing with his cousin, and Percy and Nev had engaged her for the following two sets.

“What say we investigate the buffet table?” Nev asked Percy. “I think I might have seen blackberry tarts.”

“You didn’t. Where would anyone get blackberries this early in the summer? Oh, look, it’s Louisa.”

The two young men were standing next to a line of wallflowers. Nev ’s sister Louisa was not one of those unfortunate girls. Despite her undistinguished brown hair and blue eyes, so similar to his own coloring, she was laughing and flirting with six gentlemen at once on the other side of the room.

Nev was struck by a sudden troubling recollection. “Oh, seven hells! My mother isn’t here, is she? I was supposed to dine in Berkeley Square tonight.”

“I don’t see her anywhere,” Percy said, and abandoned his friend to his own devices. Nev was unsurprised to see him leading Louisa out onto the floor a minute or two later. After all, none of the other gentlemen present had made Louisa her first wooden sword. Besides, Louisa was a minx; it was like her to use an old friend to make her beaux jealous.

A violin screeched painfully. Behind him, someone groaned. Nev turned. A slender, dark-haired young lady tricked out in orange silk was grimacing and whispering in an older lady’s ear.

He liked orange, he liked slender girls, and he liked people who disliked bad music. Of course, it was improper to approach her without an introduction; and the older lady, swathed in appallingly purple satin, looked a bit of a mushroom. Nev didn’t let that stop him. Unused to worrying overmuch about the niceties at the best of times, the bottle of claret he had shared with his friends before coming to the ball made him even less worried now.

“Good evening,” he said to the girl. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I won’t ask you to dance to this, but perhaps you might take a turn about the room with me? The hors d’oeuvres looked lovely.”

Dark eyebrows arched. “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”

“How rude of me. I ought to have said straight off. Nathaniel Arthur Delaval Ambrey, Viscount Nevinstoke, at your service.” He seized the hand that was not resting on her mama’s waist and bowed over it with a flourish that usually made girls giggle.

She didn’t giggle, but a corner of her mouth quirked up. “I said properly introduced.”

“Oh, Penny, don’t be so stuffy,” her mama said. He was taken aback for a moment by her accent; it was pure Cockney.

It must have shown on his face, because Penny stiffened. “I’m not being stuffy, Mama. I’m merely trying to avoid complete impropriety. I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m afraid I must decline your offer.”

“Don’t listen to ’er, my lord. I’m Mrs. Brown, and this is my daughter, Miss Brown. We’re very pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”

“Mama!” Miss Brown hissed.

Mrs. Brown’s eyes twinkled. “Bring me some lobster salad when you come back, love.”

Miss Brown’s jaw set, but she put one kid-gloved hand on Nev ’s arm. “Well, my lord, shall we walk?”

Nev smiled.

They walked for a minute or two without speaking. Nev was surprised when Miss Brown broke the silence. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, be the same Lord Nevinstoke who broke into Almack’s at midnight last month?”

“The very same. I can’t take all the credit, though-Percy and Thirkell were with me. And it was Percy’s idea to wear trousers. Were you there?”

Her mouth twisted. “I have not received vouchers.”

“It’s overrated. Your father’s a Cit, I suppose.”

She didn’t answer.

Nev repeated the last few sentences in his head and panicked a little. “Oh, the devil-I mean, the deuce-I mean-” He collected himself. “I’m awfully sorry, I really shouldn’t have said that. I’ve had a bit of claret, you know. Please forgive me.”

For the first time, she smiled at him. “It’s all right. I know it’s obvious I’m not old money.”

“Doesn’t matter. I think it’s terribly clever, you know, making money. My father only knows how to spend it.” He paused, considering. “And gamble with it, of course.”

Miss Brown didn’t answer, but she took his arm a little more tightly.

Nev decided to be daring, and covered her hand with his. She looked at him and quirked a brow, but she didn’t take her hand away. It was small and warm under his, and she was really very pretty, with fine dark eyes, a straight little nose, and a girlish mouth, thin and expressive. Her complexion, framed by straight dark hair, was almost translucent. He suspected she would freckle in the sun.

“Would you like to step out on the terrace?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed outright. “I hope I’m not such a green girl as that. But I will allow you to select some hors d’oeuvres for me.”

“A task! My lady has set me a task! But first I beg a token of your favor.”

“I’m afraid my red sleeve embroidered with great pearls is pinned to my other evening gown, my lord,” she said with ironic courtesy.

His eyes lit up. “You like Malory!”

She flushed, as if it were something to be ashamed of. “I’ve always been fond of the Morte d’Arthur. I hope my taste in modern literature is rather more elevated.”

Nev grinned. “Says you! I’ll wager a pony you’re hiding The Mysteries of Udolpho in your reticule even as we speak!”

She wrinkled her nose at him, and Nev wished very much that she were not a young lady, or that he were not a gentleman. He turned hastily to the buffet table. “Well, I shall now perform the momentous task of choosing your hors d’oeuvres. Hmm, this one seems a little lopsided, doesn’t it? And this one’s rather too brown. Aha! Here we have a perfect specimen!”