Catherine was unsure how to answer Lord Daventry’s request. She had not come to the ball with the hope of doing much dancing, and although they shared a connection in her cousin William, the man was an unknown entity.

    But, she could not help but think that his fair brow was very fine indeed, and that his blue eyes were almost disarmingly clear. Yes, he was an amiable man, and a single dance could do no harm.

    She accepted Lord Daventry’s proffered arm, and he swept her to the middle of the room just as the music began to play again. It was a lively country dance, one of her especial favorites. They spent the first few minutes of the dance accustoming their movements to the spirited tune, bobbing in time to the quick wail of the violin.

    “I’m afraid my skills in this arena are quite rusty,” said Lord Daventry. “It has been a long time since I have attended a ball outside of London, and country dances have never been the fashion there.”

    “Oh, indeed,” said Catherine with a smile, arching her brow. “Do you then find me quite unfashionable?”

    “Certainly not. I find that you have more fashion in your little finger than all the women in London.”

    Color rose in Catherine’s cheeks. She was about to respond with the wittiest retort she could muster when she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye, contrasting starkly against the bright and merry colors of the room. What was that?

    The men turned their partners and she managed to see straight across the hall. The darkness was a man, dressed totally in somber colors, his raven hair and dusky eyes blending with his overall unwelcoming mien. He was staring right at Catherine, following her moves across the dance floor. There was disapproval in his face, as if he had some personal stake in her behavior.

    Catherine turned again, catching his eye, and realized with a start that he was the man whose carriage had almost run her over not a few days before. She blanched, quickly glancing away. The look in his eye made her uneasy. Who was he? Except for that one experience, she had never seen him around the village before, or at any balls or events. And yet, he was clearly highborn. He must have been someone’s guest. A friend from out of town.

    Perhaps Lord Daventry would know. “Are you acquainted with that man over there? The one with the brooding brow,” she said.

    Lord Daventry risked a glance in the direction that Catherine indicated. Catherine thought she saw his eyes flash darkly as they landed upon the man, but when Lord Daventry turned back to her, his face was clear and calm. She put it up to a trick of the light.

“That’s Lord Glenarvon–”

Catherine gasped. “Not the long-lost owner of Castle Fen?”

“I don’t know that I would put it in quite so dramatic a way,” said Lord Daventry, grinning. “But, yes. That is he.”

“And do you have occasion to know him? Is he an acquaintance of yours?” Catherine asked.

Lord Daventry mulled this over, then spoke slowly. “I have often considered him to be my oldest friend. My estate is passingly near his, and we are both in London more often than not. We grew up together as boys and attended Oxford at the same time.” He waved his hands as if to suggest that the subject matter was wholly uninteresting to him, then spun Catherine awkwardly around, trying to mimic the moves of the other dancers.

Catherine could not help but laugh. “It has been a long while since your last country dance,” she teased. “I half expect you to step on my foot and then on the foot of the lady next to us, and so on down the line until we all tumble into oblivion.”

“I shall be more careful to attend more of these events in the future, then,” he said. “And I might also take it upon myself to practice at home. Perhaps one day I will be able to hold a ball at my own estate and not embarrass myself too thoroughly.”

As he spoke, the violins ceased their noise, and the dance ended. The men bowed to their partners, the women curtseyed in return, and all wandered off to wait for the next tune to play.

“That was an exceedingly fine time,” said Lord Daventry. “I appreciate your patience with my inferior dancing.” He bowed once again. “You must forgive me, but I do need to greet some acquaintances that came in while we were occupied.”

A snub. Catherine had found her rapport with Lord Daventry lively and she had hoped he might ask her to dance again later in the night, but it seemed that was not to be. She tried to hide her disappointment, but the corners of her lips tugged down ever so slightly.

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Daventry,” she said, beginning to turn away.

“Wait!” he called. “May I call upon you some time?”

A quick jolt of shock ran through Catherine’s system. She could not pretend that the idea of Lord Daventry calling upon her was not a pleasant thought.

It might, however, be difficult to hide her financial circumstances. She could endeavor to keep him out of the dingy Edmonson house and occupy him only in her fastidiously kept-up garden. If the weather grew warmer, that seemed like a good possibility. Perhaps he would not mind that her shabby upbringing at all, if he truly liked her. Catherine couldn’t help herself.

“I would very much enjoy if you called upon me, sir. Thank you,” she said. Then, she dipped in a quick curtsey and walked away before she could say anything too stupid. She hoped her actions appeared mysterious and worldly, like those of the ladies in London.

Just in case, she peeped a quick look over her shoulder, but Lord Daventry had already disappeared into the crowd.