*
“Are you gentlemenenjoying yourselves,” Lady Gladstone asked with a flourish. Her silver hair was styled in a fashionable updo, and her gown was made of a rich blue brocade. Her smile was genuine and warm, a detail that didn’t escape Glenraven’s notice.
“As promised, Lord Glenraven accompanies me this evening.” Barrington nodded toward him.
“Ah, indeed, you have kept your word.” Lady Gladstone turned her attention to him with a smile that lit up her features. “Lord Glenraven, it is a delight to see you once more.”
Glenraven respectfully inclined his head, his expression one of polite gratitude. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Gladstone. Your invitation was most unexpected, yet entirely welcome.”
“And it is I who am in your debt, my lord,” Lady Gladstone responded, her eyes sparkling triumphantly. “Your presence here tonight bestows a singular honor upon Gladstone Hall. It is a coup indeed to host the first gala graced by your return.”
Lady Gladstone offered them both a nod of approval. “Gentlemen, please, do enjoy the evening.”
With a tilt of their heads, he and Barrington moved on and continued to mingle among the guests, enjoying the soft hum of conversation and the gentle cadence of music that filled the air.
He navigated the ballroom with the ease of a seasoned diplomat, his recent return to London causing quite the stir among theton. As he made his way through the ballroom, he could feel the calculating gazes of matrons upon him, their eyes appraising him like a coveted trophy, each silently vying to claim him for their daughters.
A trio of gentlemen, old acquaintances from his club, halted him with hearty handshakes and slaps on the back.
“Good heavens, Glenraven, is it truly you?” exclaimed Sir Thomas, his monocle nearly dropping in surprise. “We’d heard you’d taken up permanent residence in Paris!”
He chuckled, deflecting the subtle probing comment with a practiced charm. “Paris could never hold me for long, though it tried with all its might,” he quipped, leaving the details to their imaginations.
Before another word could be exchanged, Mrs. Hargrave, a determined matron with matchmaking in her eyes, approached with her daughter in tow. He caught the glint of intent in her gaze and excused himself with a polite nod, “Gentlemen, duty calls elsewhere.”
He slipped away just as the woman opened her mouth. He weaved through the crowd with a grace that contradicted his urgency. And then, as if fate had steered his course, he found himself face to face with Miss Juliet Hayward. Her eyes, a calm oasis in the sea of social intensity, met his with a welcoming recognition.
“Miss Hayward,” Glenraven greeted, the surprise in his voice genuine but welcome. “It seems destiny has a sense of humor tonight.”
“Miss Hayward.” Juliet and Glenraven turned to the gentleman who stood next to Juliet. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Juliet’s polite smile did little to mask her hesitation, a subtle shift in her stance that Glenraven caught instantly. Stepping forward with the poise of an experienced gentleman, he interjected smoothly, “My apologies, but I have already claimed the next dance with Miss Hayward.”
The gentleman, though disappointed, bowed and retreated, leaving him and Juliet to take their place on the dance floor.
He turned to Juliet with a courteous nod, his eyes betraying a hint of mischief. “Miss Hayward, I must confess, the prospectof this dance has been the sole beacon of light in an otherwise dreary evening.”
*
Juliet’s lips curvedinto a smile, her earlier nerves dissolving under his playful banter. “Lord Glenraven, you flatter me. Though I must warn you, my dance card is perilously close to full.”
“Then I shall consider myself most fortunate,” Glenraven replied, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
They stepped onto the dance floor. The music, a lilting melody, seemed to echo the change in both of them.
“I trust the evening finds you well?” Glenraven inquired as they began to dance, their movements graceful and harmonious with the music.
“Quite well, thank you,” she responded, her gaze steady on his. “And your father? I was grieved to hear of his accident.”
Glenraven’s expression softened. “He is a resilient man. Your concern is most appreciated, Miss Hayward.”
Their conversation flowed as smoothly as their dance steps, from the trivialities of the season’s fashions to the latest novels. “Have you read Mrs. Radcliffe’s latest?” she asked with genuine interest.
Glenraven smiled, his expression twinkling with interest. “I am fond of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works. Her tales of mystery and romance are quite captivating. However, I also enjoy the works of Sir Walter Scott and his vivid historical narratives. And, when I seek a bit of philosophical reflection, I turn to the essays of Mr. Addison. What about you? What captures your imagination?”
Juliet’s eyes lit up with interest. “Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels are indeed captivating. I find myself lost in her tales of mystery and suspense. As for Sir Walter Scott, his historical narrativesare truly engaging. I also enjoy Lord Byron’s poetry and Jane Austen’s wit. Their works offer such a rich tapestry of emotions and insights. It’s wonderful to know we share a love for literature.”
As the music ended, Glenraven offered her his arm and escorted her from the dance floor. Their steps were unhurried, which suited her.
