Blackmoor laughed shortly and replied, “Neither can I.” After a pause during which he realized that he needed to say more to his friends, he continued, “But I’m attending anyway, so…it simply seems the logical solution.”

“Capital! I knew there was a reason we kept you around, chap!”

Nick shook his head in amazement at his older brother. “It’s simply incredible, the luck you have. If that had been me, I’d have somehow ended up having to escort her, Vivi, and Ella for the rest of the season!”

A clock in the hallway of Blackmoor House rang loudly, announcing the arrival of six o’clock. All three Staffords started.

Will threw his cards down and stood. “That’s our cue, lads. Mother wants us home for dinner this evening to discuss the plans for the Worthington Ball.”

Nick sighed and rose, then spoke with exasperation in his voice. “You’d think there was nothing more important in all of the British Empire than the season. Lord save us from idle mothers.”

“Don’t suppose you’d care to join us, Blackmoor?” This from Kit. “After all, you seem quite adept at limiting our involvement in all things season-related.”

“I imagine I’ve done enough for you this particular evening,” he said. “A night discussing a ball with your mother as well? I think not.”

Will clapped Gavin on the shoulder. “Well said, Blackmoor. We shall let you escape this time—but only because you are such a very good friend.”

With that, the three brothers took their leave and Blackmoor found himself alone once more in his study in the dwindling light.

He swore roundly, cursing himself for making the unintelligent—nay, idiotic—offer to escort Alex to the Salisbury Ball. What had he been thinking?

“Clearly not much,” he spoke aloud to the room at large.

There was nothing about this situation that could go right. It was bad enough that he’d come dangerously close to compromising Alex’s honor with her entire family standing mere feet away—but now he was offering to chaperone her? Alone?

“She’s as good as your sister!” Again, he spoke aloud, his voice laced with self-disgust.

Except she wasn’t his sister, and he knew that. The emotions he’d felt on the balcony the previous week were far from brotherly. Very far from brotherly. Which was why he’d been making every effort to avoid her for the past week. Eight days. Not that he’d noticed. Well, he had noticed. But only because they were friends. Just friends. And it was to stay that way. The Stafford family had done too much for him, too much for his family, for him to throw it all away and go off kissing Alex. They trusted him. And he would not betray that trust. Besides, Alex probably hadn’t given that event on the balcony a second thought. They were only friends.

“Right, then. That’s that.”

He paused, then shook his head. He really did need to stop talking to himself.

Alex stood outside the door to the Worthington House sitting room and took a deep breath, gathering her courage before she entered. She knew Blackmoor was on the other side of the door, waiting to escort her to the Salisbury Ball as though nothing had happened between them—as though she hadn’t made a fool of herself and thought he was going to kiss her, then stormed off to sulk for the rest of the evening. Or week. Or two.

She had been attempting to remain calm all day, promising herself that she would ignore the fact that he’d practically vanished from existence for the last two weeks. Sixteen days. Not that she was counting. She had told herself all afternoon that everything was perfectly normal rather than supremely awkward, that this evening was something she’d been looking forward to, rather than immensely dreading, and that she had never thought of Gavin in any way except as a very dear, very sweet friend. She’d chosen dear and sweet because they were words she used for children, puppies, and the elderly.

Of course, thinking of Gavin as a puppy hadn’t quite settled her ire. To the contrary, as she’d dressed, she’d grown more and more irritated. Irritated with him for being the only person willing to escort her to the ball this evening…irritated with her brothers for missing this particular event…and irritated with Nicola Salisbury, who’d been her friend since her days in the nursery, for having a mother who would host a ball at all.

“Well, I might as well get this over with,” she spoke aloud to the foyer. “It’s only a carriage ride, after all…after which I shall ignore him for the rest of the evening.” Taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and pasting an entirely too bright smile on her face, she turned the handle of the enormous mahogany door and swung it open.

“Good evening, Lord Blackmoor.” The words came out a touch too loudly, but she ignored that fact and pressed on. “I trust the evening finds you well?”

Blackmoor turned from where he stood at the window and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the picture Alex made, bathed in the brilliant light of the hallway behind her. He swallowed, and Alex took no small amount of pleasure in the fact that he looked as though his mouth had filled with sawdust in just a few brief seconds. She did not let on that she noticed. Or that she knew precisely why he seemed so uncomfortable.

While she had dressed, she had made the decision to take revenge on Blackmoor the only way a young lady in her first season could without making a scene—by donning a ball gown designed to send men into fits.

Madame Fernaud and her mother had created this particular gown in the most current style of the season. The color was a deep, smoky violet—one of her favorites, which showed off her coloring beautifully. The cut was en vogue; the dramatically low neckline would have sent her father into conniptions, her brothers as well for that matter—so tonight, when they were all absent and she was being nursemaided by Blackmoor, provided the perfect evening to wear it.

She didn’t pretend that there wasn’t another reason she had decided to wear this particular gown on this particular evening. Blackmoor was standing in this room, looking equal parts irritated and stunned. He couldn’t object—as much as she was certain he wanted to. She looked gorgeous in this dress. If she caused a stir tonight, it would be his to deal with and that would serve him right. And they both knew it.

She smiled brilliantly as she noticed he was looking anywhere but directly at her. Coward, she thought to herself. I’ll show you to almost kiss me, then disappear for a fortnight. He swallowed visibly and her grin grew even broader.

“Shall we go, my lord? I should hate to miss the first waltz.”

Her words spurred him to action. And he moved gracefully across the room, offering her his arm. “Of course. We couldn’t possibly miss the first waltz.”

Was there a hint of sarcasm in his tone?

Crossing the foyer, Gavin reminded himself of his pledge to remain aloof this evening and attempted a suitably brotherly, “You look lovely, of course, Alex, but don’t you think that gown a touch revealing?”

“I hadn’t noticed, my lord.”

One of Gavin’s golden eyebrows rose at her statement—which he knew was a bald lie. Recognizing a conversation that would best be avoided, Gavin emitted a deep, noncommittal sound from the back of his throat, and with that, they were off.

In the carriage, the two sat silently in an unspoken agreement not to address the previous weeks’ events. This was fine with Alex, who, in spite of being thoroughly satisfied with the fact that she had unsettled Blackmoor by wearing a wonderfully revealing dress, remained largely embarrassed by the entire course of events at the Worthington dinner and would prefer they were never addressed again.

She’d just stood there, wavering in the dark, waiting for him to kiss her! Oh! What a fool she must have looked—she’d be surprised if Gavin hadn’t gone laughing to her brothers! Oooh…she could just imagine his response: Someone has to get that chit married off!

Yes, the entire experience was mortifying. She could feel her face flushing now just thinking about it. With a silent prayer of thanks for the dark carriage, she willed her blush away—he clearly wasn’t thinking about the dinner…so she wouldn’t think about it either. Even if it killed her.

Clearing her throat, she forced out, “Thank you for escorting me tonight.”

“Of course, Alex. No need to thank me. I was planning to attend, and I know how much you would have hated to miss Nicola’s ball.”

“That’s my reason, yes. But why are you here?”

Gavin leaned back on the seat and stretched out his long legs in front of him. “The most common reason of all, I imagine.”

She cocked her head. “Which is?”

“Mothers. And their infernal quest to have their sons matched.”

She smiled. Her first authentic one since the beginning of the evening. “Yours as well?”

“Of course. And, because she is in mourning this season, she has little else to do besides dream up places for me to go to meet my future wife. If you ask me, the mourning requirements for widows with children of a marriageable age should be severely limited.”

“So why attend the balls at all? She’s in the North Country, for goodness sake. She can’t force you.”

“First, you seem to forget my mother’s ability to wield the sword of guilt. She’s desperate for news of the season, so I feel obligated to provide it.

“More than that,” he continued, “she’s now hounding me to step into my duties as earl and, while I feel certain that if she were here every day I could roundly ignore her, the fact that she is absent leads me to at least humor her. Well, that in addition to the fact that I’m certain she’s got an army of spies larger than the War Office and I’m afraid of her wrath.”

Alex dipped her head respectfully. “A good son. Truly.”

“Mmmmm.” His reply was noncommittal. “Of course, there is a reason that doesn’t have to do with my mother.”

Alex’s eyebrows rose with her curiosity as the carriage slowed to a halt.

“I couldn’t very well let you attend a ball unescorted.” The words were still hanging in the air as the door to the carriage opened and Gavin stepped down onto the gravel walkway leading to Salisbury House, turning back to offer his hand to help her descend from the vehicle.

As she did, she spoke with a tone laced with humor. “That would have, indeed, been a risk. Imagine the trouble in which I could find myself without you to watch over me.” She paused, pretending to consider the trouble in question, and with an exaggerated sigh, pointed out, “Your overwhelming desire to save me is rather unaccommodating, my lord.” She felt a flood of pleasure at his rich laughter and allowed herself to be escorted inside.

Inside, they were announced at the entrance to the ball and greeted by Lord and Lady Salisbury, an odd pair not simply because they were polar opposites—Lord Salisbury tall and reedlike with a somewhat unremarkable personality and his lady a rather small, rotund woman who was, quite possibly, the cheeriest soul in the ton—but also because they were thoroughly and publicly smitten with each other, even after six children, all of whom were completely embarrassed by their parents.

“My dears!” spoke Lady Salisbury in her typically excited fashion as she kissed Alex on both cheeks. “We are delighted to host you as always! Nicola has been waiting for you, Alex! But you will have to wait to see her! You have arrived just in time! The first waltz is starting now! You mustn’t miss it!”

And with a quick greeting for Lord Salisbury, they were swept up in a wave of people moving toward the dance floor. Lady Salisbury had been right—the music began immediately.

“Have you ever noticed,” Blackmoor offered, “that Lady Salisbury speaks not in sentences but in exclamations?”

Alex caught her giggle and turned an impish gaze on him. “My lord! Whatever do you mean?!”

His rich laughter swirled around them. “If I am damned for noting such a thing about such a kind woman, you are surely joining me for imitating her.”

The two relaxed and danced in companionable silence. Sneaking a glance up at Gavin, she attempted to discover some sign that the previous weeks’ events had rattled him at all. She couldn’t and, in that moment, whirling across the ballroom, she realized that she’d been silly to think that Gavin, this Gavin, whom she’d known all her life, might have given a second thought to her in any way other than as a very dear friend.

She sighed with twin relief and disappointment—relief because they wouldn’t have to talk about the incident and could go on as though it had never happened, and disappointment for the very same reasons.

The latter emotion frightened her slightly and led her to take leave of his company after the waltz to seek out Nicola Salisbury, whom she found without much difficulty, deep in conversation with Ella and Vivi, across the room.

Nicola had always been a welcome addition to their trio—a wickedly funny person who was always willing to say something outlandish. A Salisbury, Nicola’s pedigree and immense wealth required the rest of London society to tolerate her unique personality. Not that she cared a whit. She was one of the few people Alex knew who did and said whatever she liked and truly didn’t care what others thought of her—a rare quality in a member of the ton—and Alex had always quite liked her.

Making her way toward the threesome, Alex couldn’t help but smile. None of her friends had any interest in the fact that they were virtually surrounded by eligible young men, all attempting to look calm and confident but managing only to look desperate for the attention of the three young women.

She shook her head with something close to pity for the poor young pups. None of them would garner more than a polite smile from her friends tonight—of that, she was quite certain.