salon, the gentlemen came to their feet. Claire could not tell which was more rewarding—Andrew’s gobsmacked face as he realized who the lady in seafoam was, or the warmth in the eyes of Captain Hollys as he bent over her own hand.
“You will outshine every woman there,” he murmured. “If you do not save a waltz on your card for me, I shall sign on with a mining crew and never come back.”
“I must save you from that fate, then.” Claire smiled at his nonsense. “The first waltz—and be forewarned that dancing is not my strong suit.”
Andrew was still staring at Alice as if he had never seen her before.
Well, no one had ever seen this Alice before, but that was no reason to be rude and to make the color rise in her face.
“Captain Hollys, do rescue Alice. Andrew is making her uncomfortable.”
The good captain did just that, and Andrew snapped out of it as Claire stepped into his line of sight. “Claire. You look very pretty. No rifle?”
Pretty. Hmph. So it was the first time he had ever told her she was pretty. But need he sound so—distracted?
“Not tonight. I trust that with Count von Zeppelin and the governor himself there, we will be troubled neither by thieves nor pirates. However, I do have an ivory hair pick if my assumptions prove incorrect.”
“I knew I could depend on you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Andrew, do not stare. It is abominably rude.”
“But can that really be Alice? I swear I thought her a complete stranger when she walked in.”
“She will think you completely strange if you do not behave more naturally. I do hope you told her she was … pretty.”
“I shall. The moment I secure the first dance.”
Which rendered Claire speechless until they were well on their way. Government House lay in several acres of park and gardens that Davina told them duplicated exactly the estates of Sir Geoffrey Arundel, the governor, in Derbyshire, though sadly, the elms and maples of that county had not survived the winters of the Canadas and had been replaced by pine and fir. The gardens still glowed, however, in the middle of October, and—
“My goodness!” Claire exclaimed as the Bentley came to a stop under the portico. “Today is my birthday and I completely forgot until this moment.”
“ Ksiztico. You’ve chosen a nice way to celebrate.” The earl smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “Happy eighteenth, Lady Claire. All Edmonton will be at your feet by midnight, or I’m a sad representative of the species.”
All Edmonton, it seemed, was in the ballroom, whirling in the patterns of the dance and chattering with such gusto that Claire could barely hear her own name as the majordomo announced it.
Earl and Countess Dunsmuir, of Dunsmuir House, London, and Hatley Park, Victoria.
Lady Claire Trevelyan, of Gwyn Place, Cornwall.
Miss Alice Chalmers, of the Texican Territory.
Mr. Andrew Malvern, B.S., R.S.E., of London.
Captain Ian Hollys, Baronet, Royal Aeronautic Corps, London.
Baronet? Heavens. What was a baronet doing flying a ship for an earl, companions at arms notwithstanding? She must find out during their waltz.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” Alice whispered as they descended the grand staircase. She clutched a great handful of her skirts so hard they would be fearfully crushed. “I should’ve given an alias.”
“I am very glad you did not,” Davina said behind her. “I plan to introduce you to everyone, and I should hate to have to remember it.”
Alice groaned, and before she could recover, Andrew had stepped up to write his name upon her card and then whirl her off onto the floor.
“Dear me,” Davina murmured, watching. “I am afraid our attempts at teaching her a few steps this afternoon were … inadequate.”
“Andrew will make sure she comes to no harm.” And sure enough, when Alice turned the wrong way, Andrew tightened his hand upon her waist and steered her back into the frothing current of the dancers. “She must learn that the first rule of dancing is to allow the man to lead.”
Davina looked amused. “Is this wisdom the product of personal experience?”
“I have not had much personal experience. But that is what the dance mistress at school always told us.”
“Claire, you must not stare at them so.”
“I am not staring. I am merely following the pattern of the dance and admiring the gowns of the other ladies.”
“If you say so, dear. Come. I want John to introduce you to Count von Zeppelin.”
With a determined effort, Claire pushed the image of Andrew’s gloved