Hyacinth’s had left her, merely for a different reason. Lottie had been wildly in love with her husband, the Earl of Grenfell. Lord Grenfell had never returned her feelings.
“One does not need to meet Brandon to know of his reputation,” Lottie was continuing now, flapping her fan with such effort, her brilliant red curls wafted in the breeze she had created. “Everyone is familiar with the Duke of Brandon. He is London’s best lover.”
“Lottie,” Hyacinth said, scandalized. “Someone could overhear.”
“I am not saying a word that would surprise anyone in attendance,” her friend reassured her, still fanning away. “Oh, my dear. Whatever you do, do not chance into any of the anterooms. Some of them are reserved for pleasure.”
“Pleasure,” Hyacinth repeated, thinking she needed more champagne.
Because that lone word made her think of Tom.
Again.
The man who had almost made love to her the day before. The man whose subsequent silence had been driving her to distraction. Truly, it had been the sole reason she had accepted the Duke of Brandon’s invitation this evening. Well, that and the pointed presence of Lottie’s elbow in her ribs.
“Orgies,” Lottie hissed, fanning in more rapid succession than before, as if the mere utterance of the word had raised the heat of the ballroom to unconscionable heights.
Hyacinth wondered if Tom was in attendance. After all, the Duke of Brandon had been on his way to Tom’s townhome when he had crossed paths with Hyacinth and Lottie. It stood to reason. Surely they were friends? Her gaze searched the crowd, looking for a tall, golden-haired Goliath of its own accord.
She gave a noncommittal hum to her friend, thinking that whatever Lottie had said must require an answer. “Is that all, Lottie?”
Her friend closed her fan and delivered a stinging rap to Hyacinth’s arm. “Is that all? Have you participated in one before? Tell me, what can be the reason for your unmitigated sangfroid in such a circumstance?”
No sign of him yet, much to her dismay. She sighed and turned her attention back to Lottie. “Have I participated in what, dearest? This is the first masked ball I have attended.”
Lottie’s brows arched above her silken mask. “An orgy.”
“An orgy?” she repeated, flapping away at her fan as her cheeks went hot beneath her own mask. “Good heavens, no. Have you? No, pray do not answer, I beg of you. Whatever would give you such a ridiculous notion?”
“What indeed?” Lottie’s eyes narrowed. “You do seem distracted this evening. Tell me, what has you at sixes and sevens? We are at one of the most thrilling balls of the Season, and you act as if you can hardly be bothered to enjoy yourself.”
Her friend’s insatiable appetite for distraction was yet new to Hyacinth. The last fortnight had been so busy, she felt as if she would need an entire month of sleep just to make up for the late evenings and abundance of champagne she had consumed.
“Forgive me, dear friend.” Hyacinth sighed, telling herself she ought not to be looking for Tom. Ought not to be thinking of him either. “I do not find myself as enthused as I should be. The Duke of Brandon hardly thrills me.”
“I shall have to rectify that travesty with all haste.”
The low drawl at her back had Hyacinth turning in shock to find two gentlemen approaching. The first, tall and dressed from head to foot in black, his green eyes twinkling behind a mask, could only be their host. The other, taller by a bit and leaner, with a shock of silken, golden hair and brown eyes that seemed to bore into her soul, was, undeniably, the man she had been looking for.
Tom was here.
“Your Grace,” she forced herself to say, dipping into a curtsy. “My lord. Forgive me, but you caught me unaware.”
Brandon smiled, his lips full and sensual beneath his mask. There was no denying the man had an air about him. He was handsome. Charming. Roguish. Her eyes drifted back to Tom and held. He was the only man who captivated her attention.
She was scarcely aware of Lottie at her side, flirting madly.
“Come with me,” Tom said, his gaze locked upon hers.
He was not asking. He was not demanding, not precisely. Rather, he was entreating her.
Hyacinth tilted her head. “I cannot believe it wise to allow an unknown gentleman to take me away from my friend.”
“Fly, little bird,” said the duke with a waggle of his elegant fingers. “I shall keep your friend company whilst you are gone. Do be