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  She glanced from Miss Locke to Lord Finley then smiled at him though she clutched her fan so tightly the ribs creaked. “Yes, I believe I am, Lord Halford. Miss Locke, my lord, will you excuse us?”

  A bow to Lord Finley, who nodded and moved closer to Miss Locke. That lady’s eyes had widened and her smile reached almost the width of her face, as though someone had given her a delightful present.

  Hal led Celinda to the floor as a waltz started.

  “You had better have an excellent reason for this, Hal.” Celinda squeezed his hand unmercifully. “I had almost secured another dance with Lord Finley when you snatched me away. Now he’ll likely ask Kate, and who knows where that will lead.” Her mouth was set in pleasant lines but her tone was anything but pleasant.

  “It is of the utmost importance to my happiness, in fact.”

  “Please tell me you are not going to propose again.” The pressure on his hand increased.

  “No, but I do need your help.” His gaze swept the ballroom and the balcony above. No enchanting French damoiselle, thank goodness. He didn’t think Mademoiselle d’Aventure would recognize him if she saw him like this, but he didn’t want to take a chance. “Can you arrange a meeting with your godfather, the Duke of Rother?”

  Chapter 3

  Hal started them around the room without waiting for Celinda to answer.

  “Rother?”

  “Don’t I remember he’s your godfather?”

  Celinda’s brows had puckered. “Yes, although sending a silver cup for my christening was apparently the extent of his godfatherly duties.” Her frown deepened. “Are you telling me you’re not acquainted with him? I can’t believe you’ve not been introduced. But he’s here tonight.” She peered into the crowd. “I’d be happy to—”

  “It’s not for me.” He kept scanning the crowd as well, but not for the duke.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The introduction is not for me. I am well acquainted with the duke.” He glimpsed a brown skirt and spun Celinda around to shield him.

  “What are you doing?” She wobbled, off balance.

  “Nothing.” Hal grabbed her tighter to keep her from falling. Ah, thank goodness, it was Lady Carlisle in brown beside the chair there, not the little damoiselle.

  “Let me go.” She hissed. “People are going to stare. And if you compromise me, I’ll make sure I’m a widow not long after I’m a wife.”

  “Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I don’t want to marry you.” He maneuvered them around a group of slower dancers. “Furthest thing from my mind.”

  “Then slow down, for pity’s sake.” She stepped on his foot, and pain shot up his shin.

  “Ouch. Behave, and I will also.” Easier said than done. Once he started a waltz, the lovely rhythm made him want to fly around the room. Still, he managed to slow them to a tempo more in keeping with the rest of the dancers.

  “So, who is seeking an introduction to the duke?” Celinda eyed him as they paused in a balance step.

  “A lady.”

  “What?” Celinda tried to halt, her mouth slightly agape. but he urged her on around the room.

  “After you left the balcony, someone else appeared. Another young woman.”

  “Indeed.” Her eyebrows arched, her tone a trifle cool. “How fortunate for you, Hal.”

  “It truly was.” The thought of the beautiful French woman set his heart on fire.

  “You’re smiling like an idiot.”

  “I know. I can’t stop.” He picked up their pace again. His feet had wings tonight because of her.

  Abruptly, Celinda grasped his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. They had come full circle, back to the far end of the room where he’d found her. Miss Locke and Lord Finley were nowhere to be seen. With a groan, Celinda made for the French doors that let onto the rear terraces, Hal in tow.

  “What are you doing?” He didn’t protest much. It would be easier to convince her to help if he could talk to her face to face.

  “Trying to get some sense out of you without making a spectacle of ourselves.” She drew him toward a more secluded corner.

  A dangerous place. If anyone found them here, they would have no choice but to marry. Hal held his breath, listening for others who might also have availed themselves of the garden’s sanctuary. Only the peaceful night sounds of crickets and the faint snorting of horses in the stables filled the air. “Celinda, we must be brief. If we are discovered here—”

  “Oh, mark me, we will not be. So talk fast. You met a young woman in the balcony who wishes to meet my godfather?” She spoke low and slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “And you have developed a tendre for this girl in the half hour since I left you?” This question came sharp and crisp, with a knowing smirk in her voice.

  “Why would you say that?” He took a step backward into the shadows. It might be too dark for her to see him clearly, but he wouldn’t chance it.

  “The look on your face just now, when I said you were smiling like an idiot. I knew.” Her voice grew harsh with disapproval.

  “And how long did it take you, pray tell, to form an attachment to Lord Finley?” Hal shot back. “You met him only this evening as well.”

  “That is totally different.” Her defensive tone confirmed all his suspicions about her regard for Finley.

  “Somehow I doubt that. Come, Celinda,” he said, drawing close enough to her that she was more than just a faint outline and voice. “Please help me.”

  “Who is this young lady? Do I know her?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You haven’t proposed to her also, have you?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. Knowing him as she did, she would think to ask that. “No, you do not know her, and no, I have only proposed to you this evening—so far.”

  “Hal!”

  “Quiet.” He peered around the yard, but nothing stirred. “For pity’s sake, Celinda. You will get us leg-shackled yet.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can be rash.” In the faint light, she smoothed her gown and seemed to calm a bit.

  “I was jesting. I met her for perhaps ten minutes, too short an acquaintance to form any meaningful attachment, even for me. Although…” He paused, haunted by a sudden whiff of hyacinth that brought with it the memory of Mademoiselle d’Aventure’s beauty, charm, and soft lips.

  “Hal.” Celinda’s voice reached him, returning him to the darkened garden. “This young lady has bewitched you, it seems.”

  “You may be correct, cuz.” She’d cast a spell on him, to be sure. All he could think of was seeing her once more. “So will you help me?”

  “You haven’t told me yet who she is, why she wants to meet Lord Rother, or why you can’t simply introduce her.” Celinda tapped an impatient toe.

  “Well…” Damn. He couldn’t put her off any longer. She had to know the truth. Whether that would make any difference in the end was up to Celinda and her sense of romance. “Her name is Gabriella d’Aventure—there are a few other names between that I forget—lately from France.”

  “Miss d’Aventure? I certainly would have noted such an unusual name. My forte, you may remember.” Celinda rolled her eyes.

  Hal did recall how much she disliked her curious name.

  “Why have I not met Miss d’Aventure? Who is her chaperone?”

  Inwardly, Hal groaned. He’d rather not have dealt with these questions at the moment, but if he must… “She is with Lady Chalgrove.”

  “Lady Chalgrove?” The suspicious look on his cousin’s face told him he must stop trying to hedge the subject. “Lady Chalgrove has no daughters. Is she a niece?”

  “She is Her Ladyship’s lady’s maid.”

  Celinda blew out an exasperated breath that threatened to ruffle his cravat. “Come, Hal. Enough of games. Tell me.”

  “That is the truth.” He crossed his heart. “Word of honor.”

  “Hal!”

  “Shhh.” He froze. Footsteps approached from the direction of
the French doors. Hal pushed Celinda behind him, further into the shadow of the veranda’s overhanging roof. If he could hide her, they might think he was waiting for an assignation rather than in the middle of one. Suddenly, marriage to his cousin, so attractive a short time ago, had become unimaginable. He held his breath, and the footsteps retreated. His lungs burned, but he refused to breathe until he’d counted to thirty then gulped in air and stepped aside.

  “I’m sorry, Hal.” She grasped his arm, her hand soft and warm. “Well, then, please begin and tell me everything.”

  Thank the good Lord. He launched into his tale, leaving out only a few bits, like that spellbinding kiss. Some things Celinda simply did not need to know.

  “So I’m to rendezvous with her at Lady Atherton’s and tell her if all is arranged for her to meet the duke. You will be attending the musicale, won’t you?” He’d relaxed as his cousin had become more and more entranced by his tale.

  “Of course. Mamma and Lady Atherton are bosom bows. But all you want me to do is introduce Miss d’Aventure to the duke?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why can’t you simply introduce her yourself?”

  “Uh…I must have left out that she thinks I’m Carpenter.”

  “Your valet!”

  “For God’s sake, keep your voice down. Have you always been so noisy and I simply haven’t noticed?” He ventured out to stick his head around the corner of the house. No one else stirred in the crisp air of the early May night. “Yes, I told her I was my valet so as not to startle her when she first came upon me. I was in shirtsleeves, if you remember. His was the only name I could think of.”

  “So you are your valet and she is a lady’s maid.” Even the dim light couldn’t disguise Celinda’s dismay. “How am I to introduce her to the duke?”

  “As a young lady of your acquaintance?” he asked hopefully. Celinda had never failed him before. Pray God she did not now.

  “There is something going on here, Hal.” She shook her head. “Something you’re not telling me or something she’s not telling you.” Celinda rubbed her arms, and Hal shivered in the cool air. “Let us go back inside before I catch a chill and Mamma has an attack of the vapors.” Moving out from behind Hal, she headed for the French door. “Tell me again why she’s so set on meeting a duke? And Rother in particular?”

  “Some girlish dream, she said. Her mother met a duke when she was a girl. I suppose she told the story to Gabriella so many times it made an impression on her. Now she wants to meet an English duke as well.” He peered into her face, pale in the half-moon light. “Do you still have girlish dreams, Celinda?”

  “I dream of a handsome man marrying me before I’m an ape leader, but I’ve had no luck convincing Father to approve the men I find interesting. Now that I’ve found another one, you’ve dragged me off into your scheme and left him with Kate. She’ll either have cowed or conquered him by the time I find them again.” She sighed, a sadness in her eyes. “I’ll send word as soon as I’ve written to Lord Rother. When can we arrange this meeting?”

  “Bless you, Celinda.” He breathed deeply once more. “I will ask Miss d’Aventure what day she can manage.” He took Celinda’s arm and escorted her back to the ballroom.

  “You do think that is her real reason for meeting the duke, don’t you, Hal? A childhood dream?” A trickle of doubt colored her words as they passed over the threshold.

  “What else could it be?” Hal only half-listened, checking the crowd for his lady’s maid and anticipating his next meeting with her. With Gabriella. Her name tasted like a delicate pastry in his mouth.

  “I don’t know. Extortion, perhaps?”

  Hal stopped, a smile frozen on his face.

  Celinda dipped a curtsy and continued toward the side of the ballroom where Miss Locke stood alone, peering about.

  With a low curse, Hal strode toward main part of the house in search of a much-needed brandy.

  * * * *

  By the time Gabriella reached the guest chamber assigned to her mistress, she knew she was too late.

  La comtesse’s raised voice sounded through the thick, oak-paneled door. “Where is Gabriella?

  She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Where have you been, you stupid girl?” The countess’s screeching made Gabrielle flinch. “I told you specifically to stay here so that I could find you if I needed you.” She pointed to the skirt of her deep green gauze gown. The bottom row of ruffled flounces had come loose, drooping almost until it touched the floor. “You must fix this immediately. When you are finished, you are not to stir from this room until the ball is over. Do you understand?” She glared at Gabriella, who dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “Oui, madame.” She ran to the dressing room and grabbed her sewing chest. “If you will stand still, madame, I will fix it tout de suite.” Gabriella sat on the floor at her mistress’s feet. Bad luck that the repair must be done in the front of the gown. She must sew with the tiniest stitches so they would not show. This would take more time to repair, during which la comtesse would undoubtedly voice her displeasure. She knotted the silk thread and began. “Has madame enjoyed herself so far this evening?”

  “I would be there enjoying myself this minute had you been here when I arrived.” The countess stamped her foot, jerking the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands.

  “Please, madame. You must remain still if you wish me to be quick.” She gathered the green gauze once more and started to stitch again. “So you have danced much? Only a woman of your grace and beauty could have secured so many partners in a room filled to bursting with ladies.”

  “How do you know how full the ballroom is?” Lady Chalgrove pounced as quickly as a striking snake.

  “I went down the corridor to the small balcony that overlooks the ballroom. I wanted to see the English lords and ladies.” Gabriella poked the needle through the layers of soft fabric, unconcerned. “I particularly wanted to see what the English ladies are wearing this season. You have bought that printed silk and asked me to make it up for your trip to Vauxhall Gardens next week. I wished to look at the newest fashions, so I may make certain madame is très jolie for her outing.”

  “Well, I suppose that is a reasonable excuse.” Lady Chalgrove sniffed and looked over at her toilette table. “But I hope you saw something that will suit me, because you must remain here for the rest of the evening. I pray that wretched Mr. Calhoun does not come near me again. He is the one who stepped on my gown and pulled the flounce loose.” Her mistress moved toward the table, pulling the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands once more.

  “Madame!”

  The countess shrugged and dabbed perfume behind her ears and down her décolletage.

  Quel dommage there was not more there to work with.

  Gabriella ran her hands across the carpet, searching for the needle. “If you wish to return to the ballroom in haste, madame, you must allow me to do my work.” She found the needle, threaded it, and began the repair again.

  “Can you not hurry?” Lady Chalgrove picked up the hand mirror, turning it back and forth, preening while Gabriella finished mending the flounce. “I am to dance again with the Duke of Rother, and I will not keep him waiting.”

  “Ouch.” Gabriella stuck the needle into her finger, drawing a bright drop of blood.

  “Stupid girl. Do not smear blood on my gown.” The countess continued to gaze at herself in the mirror, smiling first one way then another.

  “Oui, madame.” Gabriella stuck her finger in her mouth then continued with the gown.

  “His Grace is now searching for a bride, so say the latest on-dits.” She laughed into the mirror, looking like nothing so much as a monkey in a menagerie. “With a little luck, he may choose me, if I can only capture his attention. Are you finished?”

  “Oui, madame.”

  The countess flounced out of the chamber without a backward glance.

  Gabrielle remained on the floor, trying to fit this newest information into her plan. She must ac
complish her goal before Lady Chalgrove could snare the man. She shuddered to think what madame would do if she discovered her maid had a scheme of her own regarding the Duke of Rother.

  She sent a swift prayer to St. Christopher, patron saint of pilgrims, to speed her on her way to a successful completion of her journey.

  Chapter 4

  Next morning, Gabriella, after assisting la comtesse with her toilette for the day, sat beside the window yawning and re-hemming the green gown from last night. Her mistress would most likely never wear it again, but she’d given strict instructions to remove and reattach the offending flounce. Gabriella shook her head but continued to sew. Madame had very peculiar notions about her maid’s duties, but as she had provided passage to England and promised to pay her wages on time, Gabriella would not complain.

  She bit through the last thread, hung the gown up in madame’s dressing room, and was cleaning up her sewing things when Lady Chalgrove burst into the room.

  “Gabriella, my best carriage dress. The blue with the embroidered silk flower medallions.” La comtesse pulled at her clothing, throwing the fichu on the floor, and plucking at the shoulders of her muslin morning gown.

  “Madame, un moment. Allow me.” Gabriella rushed to her mistress and began unbuttoning her before the woman could tear the clothes from her body. “What is wrong, madame?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Everything is very, very right.” Lady Chalgrove stripped the gloves from her hands. “Or everything will be right, if only you hurry.”

  Gabrielle finished unfastening her mistress’s gown and drew it over her head before she tore this one as well. “What has happened, madame?”

  Lady Chalgrove breathed deeply, pushing out what little bosom she possessed. “He is here. The Duke of Rother came to call not ten minutes ago.”

  Stunned into silence, Gabriella stopped. The duke was here. Her hands trembled so hard she dropped the gown and bent to pick it up. He was in the same house as she, just downstairs. Could she run down now and seek an audience? She clutched the discarded dress to her chest and headed to the door.