These festive fruits are lovely for parties and elegant enough for a ball. Or anytime at all, for like all sweets, they are truly delicious.
—Kendra, Duchess of Amberley, 1690
THERE WERE NO wallflowers at Cainewood Castle's ball.
Griffin's strategy had proved an unqualified success. So many more men than women were in attendance that even the plainest girl had barely a moment to sit and rest. And in their new dresses, the Chase sisters were anything but plain.
The three of them had been claimed for every dance, and though it was barely two hours into the long evening—only ten o'clock—Alexandra's feet were already beginning to ache. Since she was now involved in a rather staid country dance, she tried her best to ignore the pain—and the dull gentleman who was her partner—and take a moment to savor the results of her hard work.
The great hall hadn't looked so beautiful since before her parents died. The enormous Gobelin tapestries on either end of the hall had been cleaned and rehung, their colors more vibrant than Alexandra remembered ever seeing them. The ancient planked floor gleamed with polish, and the huge chamber was ablaze with light from torches mounted between each of the arched stained-glass windows. But what really made the room glitter was the people—all the guests in their gorgeous dresses and handsome evening suits. The ladies' necks, wrists, and hands sparkled with jewels, and diamonds winked from many a man's cravat.
The music came to an end. "Thank you for the dance," the gentleman said with a bow. Lord Haversham, or Haverstock, or Haversomething…she really couldn't remember.
She smiled and curtsied. "It was my pleasure."
A row of red velvet chairs beckoned along the oak-paneled wall. She was heading toward one of them when Lord Shelton intercepted her.
"May I have this dance?"
"I'd be delighted," she told him, ordering her feet to stop complaining. After all, she'd been dreadfully rude the last time she saw Lord Shelton, refusing to serve him ratafia puffs. She could hardly dismiss his invitation to dance. But when he offered his arm to lead her back to the dance floor, she took it and felt nothing. Nothing.
She could scarcely believe she'd once contemplated marrying him.
Thankfully, the musicians didn't strike up a waltz, but another country dance. As she took her place across from Lord Shelton, she had to admit he looked handsome in his formalwear. Pale and blond and very, very English. But she still thought his scent was too flowery.
"I'm pleased to see you've recovered," he said. "You suffered from quite a lengthy illness."
Was that the excuse Griffin had used to keep him away? Bless the man. He was a fine brother indeed. "Thank you. I'm feeling quite myself now," she assured her former suitor.
"May I call on you Monday morning, then?"
Oh, drat. "I'm afraid I have prior plans." Surely she'd need to wash her hair.
"I should like to resume our courtship."
So she'd surmised. "I expect you should speak with my brother," she said, mentally composing her apology to Griffin.
"I shall," Lord Shelton replied.
The steps then separated them for a spell, and when they came back together, Alexandra launched into a lively discussion of the weather. After she'd exhausted that fascinating topic, she steered the conversation to talk of the latest fashion in gloves and the best way to keep household account books. When the dance—which seemed to last at least half an hour—mercifully ended, she headed toward the chairs again, only to be stopped by Griffin this time.
"Alexandra, I have an old acquaintance for you to meet."
"My feet wish for me to sit. They're protesting my treatment."
"You can sit tomorrow."
Groaning inwardly, she put a smile on her face. The purpose of tonight, after all, was for her to meet men. Just because she hadn't fallen head over heels for the last dozen didn't mean the next one might not catch her fancy.
Besides, she owed Griffin, though he had yet to learn it. "Lord Shelton will be approaching you. He wishes to resume his suit."
"What am I to tell him? You're obviously in the bloom of health."
"Oh, you'll come up with something." She smiled as a man approached. "Is this the gentleman you wish me to meet?"
Griffin scowled at her, then switched on the famous charm as he turned to greet his friend. "Lord Ribblesdon, I'd like you to meet my sister, Lady Alexandra."
"A pleasure," the man said, bowing over her gloved hand. "Would you honor me with this dance?"
"I'd be delighted," she assured him.
Though Lord Ribblesdon wasn't as handsome as Tris, he was attractive, his hair dark and his eyes a pleasant blue. The musicians were starting a quadrille, so they formed a square with three other couples.
From another square nearby, Juliana grinned. "The look," she mouthed silently.
Alexandra had completely forgotten. Now she dropped her gaze and then raised it, curving her lips in a slight smile as she met Lord Ribblesdon's eyes.
Looking a bit dazzled, he smiled in return. "Your home is beautiful."
"I like it. I've always felt Cainewood is a special blend of old and new."
"You would like my estate, too," he said, and proceeded to describe it in exquisite detail as they danced.
After a few minutes, she glanced at the tall-case clock that sat against a wall. Ten twenty.
Lord Ribblesdon droned on, describing his octagonal breakfast room, which apparently boasted an unusual chandelier. Next he waxed enthusiastic about a pond on his property that was filled with notable fish.
Why did these dances have to go on so very long? An hour passed, and she glanced at the clock again.
Ten twenty-five.
Catching Griffin's gaze across the hall, she gave him a tight smile. He shrugged and nodded, looking around for another
