though he couldn’t remember seeing them more than twice in his life. He was growing used to people approaching him and claiming connections from the past, and he wondered what they truly intended by it. His fortune was impressive, but it was hardly the greatest in Society. He was a viscount, it was true, but there were higher-ranking titles in the room at any given moment.
He was unmarried; that, he feared, was the card that trumped them all.
His brother’s death had left Graham one of the most eligible men in England, a hefty price to pay for something he had never, and could never, want. To lose his only brother and gain so much seemed cruel.
It was cruel.
And being here, though hardly comparable to all that, was rather cruel, too.
Trapped in conversation with someone whose name he couldn’t recollect, and didn’t care to, Graham focused on keeping his expression blank. He couldn’t manage attentive, so he would have to hope that blank could be mistaken for polite listening.
A movement just beyond his conversational companion caught Graham’s eye, and his attention flicked to it with almost comical desperation.
A woman in a cream gown covered with black overlay moved through the crowded room with determination, a furrow creasing the fair skin of her brow, accompanying lines etched at the edges of her presently thin lips. He recognized her from the entrance she’d made, and how the entire room had hushed and then begun to titter at the sight of her, but all he could remember was that she had entered with the Ingrams.
Despite his respect for Lord Ingram and his wife, it seemed a crime not to recollect their guest simply because it was easier to remember them.
She moved without care for her surroundings, which earned her some bumping and jostling, but she wasn’t put off by it. She didn’t speak to anyone, and every few paces, she would glance over her shoulder.
Strange. Fleeing an assignation or simply avoiding dancing with an intolerable partner?
Whichever it was, the beauty was doing the job admirably, and he hoped she managed to succeed in her efforts.
“Then, I met the Prince of Wales,” the man before him continued to drone on, bringing Graham’s focus reluctantly back to him.
“Before or after he became our King?” Graham queried with a tilt of his head.
The question seemed to catch his companion off guard, and he looked at Graham with mild alarm.
“It is, after all, only a few short months since King George III passed on,” Graham continued, unable to help himself. “His Majesty at present, lately the Prince of Wales, can be called such no longer. His heir, as you know, is the Duke of York, who has not taken up the heir presumptive title of Prince of Wales, so could not be referred to as such. So, I must say, there is some confusion as to the identity of the man you met, and the timing of when you met him.”
“I…” The man frowned and lowered his eyes to the floor, and Graham had to hide a smile.
Was this a case of a poor memory, or a story spun out of fiction instead of recollection? However boring the tale was, the outcome of this particular quandary was suddenly of great interest to him.
There was a sudden but insistent tapping at Graham’s right shoulder then, eliciting a glower at having his current amusement interrupted. He glanced over his shoulder, raising one brow.
The fleeing beauty stood there, hands wringing together, eyes wide as she stared at him, the startling green of them striking something in his chest like the dinner gong might have done.
“I know it isna done, sir, and I know we are not acquainted, but if ye could please dance the next waltz with me, I should be most grateful.”
Graham blinked, the rushed but musical Scottish brogue of the woman shifting his impression of her further in his mind. He ran over her words again, translating quickly before responding.
“You… are asking me to waltz?”
She nodded her dark head almost frantically. “Yes,” she replied at once, her tone matching every other sign of panic he’d seen. “Please.”
What in the world was this? The rules of politeness at a ball couldn’t have changed all that much of late, and despite this woman’s obvious beauty and captivating speech, he wasn’t about to waltz on demand. Especially someone else’s demand.
He snorted softly. “As you said, madam, it is not done, and I have no desire to refute that.” He began to turn