Page 12 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

He exhibited a pleasing lack of condescension. While she would have to see more of him to judge, he could fit her idea of a husband. He was one of the most interesting men she had met. And the most elegant. The cut of his coat spoke of fine tailoring, his cravat tied in an intricate knot, and a fine gold fob decorated his white silk waistcoat. Perhaps he was wealthy and had no interest in her dowry. She caught her lip in her teeth in consternation. When had she become so hard-hearted and suspicious? And she was yet to see his face. What color were his eyes? Impossible to tell through the slits of his mask. Hazel, perhaps.

“An elegant gentleman with exquisite manners,” Aunt Mary said approvingly when he had left them.

“Yes.” Jo watched him make his way through the crowd. “He is to call on us tomorrow.”

“My, my,” her aunt said. She fell silent, offering no further opinion.

“Then you approve of me waltzing with him, Aunt?” Jo asked after a moment. Her aunt was usually forthcoming in her opinions.

“I like to see you enjoying yourself. They didn’t dance the waltz in ballrooms in my day. I have to admit it looks exhilarating.” She waved her fan before her face. “As long as you don’t come under criticism.”

“I doubt I’m of any interest,” Jo said. No one paid the slightest attention to her.

“But you are. You’re the prettiest debutante here tonight.”

Jo smiled at her loyal aunt. “I’m not, but thank you for saying so.”

Why had her aunt never married? Her father told Jo she had settled into spinsterhood at a young age. Was it because she was near-sighted and forced to wear glasses? Had it made her shy? Aunt Mary’s support for Jo’s mother and father had enraged their brother, Sir Brian Endicott. He and Lady Endicott ostracized her mother and sent Aunt Mary packing, too. With nowhere to go, Jo’s parents took her aunt in. She seemed content not to marry, but to Jo, it seemed a poor life compared to the love of a husband and children.

At midnight they announced the unmasking. Laughter rippled through the room as masks came off. Relieved to remove hers, Jo searched for Mr. Ollerton but could find no sign of him. Had he left the ball? Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her. Disappointed, she danced another set, while her father, his mask pushed up on his forehead, danced with Mrs. Millet. Jo felt torn. While she was pleased for her father, who had remained loyal to her mother’s memory too long in her opinion, was, at last, enjoying himself in a lady’s company. She wished she could like that lady more.

Letty emerged from the crowd in gold silk, a black lace mask trailing from her fingers by its strings. Jo heard her infectious laugh as she wandered in their direction. A gentleman walked at her elbow, her husband, Mr. Cartwright. Jo sat forward in her seat when the dark-haired gentleman from the coach, dressed in black and white evening clothes, appeared. He must also have just arrived, she always had an eye out for him, and it would have been impossible not to spot him, for he was head and shoulders above most men here tonight.

With a welcoming smile, Letty approached Jo, accompanied by the two gentlemen. “Miss Dalrymple, and is this Miss Hatton? How good to see you this evening. Allow me to introduce you to my husband, Mr. Cartwright, and our friend, Baron, Lord Reade.”

The gentlemen bowed.

Jo took to Mr. Cartwright immediately. His ready smile put her at ease, but when Lord Reade’s firm lips curled into a beguiling smile, she felt unusually warm. Up close, he was the perfect depiction of masculine strength and beauty. His large eyes, deep and dark, observed her as if he could easily uncover her secret thoughts. A frisson of awareness rushed through her. She would be totally out of her depth with such a man. Her fingers coiled around her fan while she resisted snapping it open.

A baron, Lord Reade, came from a different world. He would not wish to marry the daughter of a haberdasher. It was just as well, for she couldn’t imagine him calling to take tea with her family.

While Letty chattered with her aunt, Lord Reade asked Jo if she approved of masked balls. His voice, low and seductive, held a sardonic note. Did he disapprove of her? Or the ball? A man had come dressed in a harlequin costume and danced around them, making people laugh.

“People’s behavior seems to alter wh

ile wearing a mask. I saw a gentleman cast himself at a lady’s feet and kiss her hem!” Jo said. As she sounded like a prudish governess, she hurried on. “I must admit I like to see people’s faces.”

“Some faces should never be hidden,” the baron said, an appreciative light in his eyes.

Mr. Cartwright chuckled. “And some are the better for the mask.”

When Reade’s dark eyes remained on her, she lifted her chin. “What is your opinion of masked balls, my lord?”

“These affairs have distinct advantages, Miss Dalrymple. I might be inclined to cast myself at your feet and kiss your hem.”

She gazed into those dark eyes. It was as though he had reached out and touched her. She swallowed. Was he flirting? Or toying with her? “It’s not that I’m disapproving of people’s actions, sir. I am merely surprised by them.”

Reade shrugged wide shoulders. “I am all approval when some of the ridiculous rules set by the doyens of Society are ignored.”

“For instance?” Mr. Cartwright prodded with a glimmer of humor in his blue eyes.

Reade shrugged again and cast a lazy smile at his friend. “Has marriage made you forgetful, Cartwright? I shan’t remind you of it, however, for it is not suited to a lady’s ears.”

Cartwright laughed.

“Forgive us, Miss Dalrymple,” Lord Reade said. “I should like to hear more of your fresh observations of the ton.”

“I have none, sir. This is only my third ball.”

---