What Happens in London

like walks in the park and interviews with her family. And many of the improper ones as well-stolen kisses and midnight conversations through open windows.

He was in love. He’d long since recognized it. All that remained was for him to propose.

And for her to accept, but he thought she would. She hadn’t said she loved him, but she wouldn’t have done, would she? It was up to the gentleman to declare himself first, and he had not yet done so.

He was just waiting for the right moment. They needed to be alone. It ought to be in the daytime; he wanted to be able to see her face clearly, to imprint every play of emotion into his memory. He would declare his love for her and ask her to marry him. And then he’d kiss her senseless. Maybe kiss himself senseless as well.

Who knew he was such a romantic?

Harry chuckled to himself as he got up and wandered over to his window. Olivia’s curtains were open, and so was her window. Curious, he pushed his own up and popped his head out into the warm spring air. He waited for a moment, in case she’d heard his window going up, then whistled.

Within seconds she appeared, bright-eyed and cheerful. “Good afternoon!” she called out.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked.

“Of course not. But if I was to be in my room, I saw no reason not to leave the window open.” She leaned on the ledge, and smiled down at him. “It’s almost time to get ready.”

“What are you wearing?” Good God, he sounded like one of her gossipy friends. But he didn’t care. It was simply too pleasant to gaze up at her to worry over such things.

“My mother was pressing for red velvet, but I wanted something you could see.”

It was ridiculous how much he loved that she eschewed red and green for his benefit.

“Blue, perhaps?” she mused.

“You do look lovely in blue.”

“You’re very complimentary this afternoon.”

He shrugged, still sporting what he was sure must be an exceedingly silly grin. “I’m in an exceedingly good mood.”

“Even though you must spend the evening with Prince Alexei?”

“He will have three hundred guests. Ergo, no time for me.”

She chuckled. “I thought you were beginning to like him better.”

Harry supposed that he was. He still thought the prince was a bit of an ass, but he had fixed Sebastian’s shoulder. Or to be more precise, he’d had his manservant do so. Still, it amounted to the same thing.

And, more important, he had finally accepted defeat and ceased calling upon Olivia.

Unfortunately for Harry, the prince’s infatuation with Olivia had been replaced with a friendly devotion toward Sebastian. Prince Alexei had decided that Seb must be his new best friend and had been calling daily to check on his recuperation. Harry made a point of being in his office during such visits and had been regaling Olivia with the details, as told to him by Sebastian. All in all, it had been quite amusing, and all the more proof that Prince Alexei was mostly harmless.

“Oh, there’s my mother,” Olivia said, twisting to look behind her. “She’s calling me from down the hall. I must go.”

“I shall see you tonight,” Harry said.

She smiled. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Twenty

By the time Harry arrived at the ambassador’s residence, the ball was in full swing. He couldn’t quite determine what aspects of Russian culture were being celebrated; the music was German and the food was French. But no one seemed to care. The vodka was flowing freely, and the room echoed with peals of laughter.

Harry immediately looked for Olivia, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was fairly certain she would have already arrived; her carriage had left her house over an hour before his had departed. But it was a crowded room. He’d find her soon.

Sebastian’s shoulder was nearly improved, but he had insisted upon wearing a sling under his coat-the better to attract the women, he’d told Harry. And indeed, it worked. They were mobbed instantly, and Harry was happy to stand back, watching with amusement as Sebastian basked in the worry and concern of London’s fair ladies.

Harry noted that Sebastian did not give an accurate depiction of the accident. In fact, all details were rather vague. There was certainly nothing about standing atop a table, acting out a cliff scene from a gothic novel. It was hard to tell exactly what Sebastian had said, but Harry heard one lady whisper to another that he’d been attacked by footpads, the poor, poor dear.

Harry fully expected to hear that Sebastian had fought off an entire French regiment by the end of the evening.

Harry leaned over to Edward as Sebastian graciously accepted the heartrending concern of one particularly buxom widow. “Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone how this really happened. He’ll never forgive you.”

Edward nodded, but just barely. He was far too busy watching and learning from Seb to pay attention to Harry.

“Enjoy the leavings,” Harry said to his brother, smiling to himself as he realized that he was through with Sebastian’s left-over females.

Life was good. Very good. As perfect and fabulous as it had ever been, in fact.

Tomorrow he would propose, and tomorrow she would say yes.

She would, wouldn’t she? He couldn’t possibly be so misguided about her feelings.

“Have you seen Olivia?” he asked Edward.

Edward shook his head.

“I’m going to try to find her.”

Edward nodded.

Harry decided that it was useless to attempt to conduct a conversation with his brother with so many young ladies flitting about, and he moved away, trying to see above the crowd as he walked over to the opposite side of the ballroom. There was a small knot of people near the punch bowl, Prince Alexei at the center, but he did not see Olivia. She’d said she would be wearing blue, which would make her easier to spot, but it was always harder for him to distinguish colors in the evening.

Her hair…Now, that was a different story. Her hair would shine like a beacon.

He kept moving through the crowd, looking this way and that, and then finally, just when he was starting to get frustrated, he heard from behind him:

“Looking for someone?”

He turned, and it was as if his life was illuminated by her smile. “Yes,” he said, feigning perplexity, “but I can’t quite find her…”

“Oh, stop,” Olivia said, batting him lightly on the arm. “What has taken you so long? I have been here for hours.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Oh, very well, one hour at least. Probably ninety minutes.”

He glanced over at his cousin and brother, still holding court across the room. “We had difficulties adjusting Sebastian’s sling with his coat.”

“And people say women are fussy.”

“While I would have to argue on behalf of my gender, I am always happy to impugn my cousin.”

She laughed at that, a bright, musical sound, then grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

He followed her through the crowds, impressed by her single-minded determination to get to wherever it was she was going. She weaved this way and that, laughing all the way, until she reached an arched door at the far side of the room.