Dunford drew back in surprise. “A little possessive when you haven’t even met the chit, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I’ve met the chit,” Alex growled. “I just didn’t know it.”
Dunford’s brow furrowed in thought until realization dawned. “I gather you don’t want to head to White’s just yet?”
Alex smiled rakishly. “This party has suddenly grown quite interesting.” With that, he scooted along the perimeter of the ballroom, assiduously avoiding Emma’s eye. He finally settled into an alcove directly behind her back. A heavy crimson drape shielded him from the view of the partygoers, but he could still hear every detail of Emma’s conversations. Leaning back against the wall, he could just barely see her through a crack between the drape and the wall.
“What the devil are you doing?” Dunford demanded just as soon as he appeared at Alex’s side.
“Will you keep your voice down? And get back! Someone might see you.” Alex yanked his friend back until they were both hidden behind the drape.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Dunford muttered. “I never thought I’d see the day when the lofty Duke of Ashbourne hid behind curtains to spy on a woman.”
“Shut up.”
Dunford snickered.
Alex glared at him before turning his attention back to more important matters. “I’ve got her just where I want her,” he said gleefully, rubbing his hands together.
“Really?” Dunford asked sardonically. “I rather thought you wanted her in your bed.”
Alex glared at him again.
“And,” Dunford continued, “it doesn’t seem to me that you’re even remotely close to achieving that goal.”
Alex raised his eyebrows with supreme self-assurance. “Mark my words, I’ll be a hell of a lot closer by the end of the night.” He put his eye back to the crack of light, smiled triumphantly and, rather like a lion stalking its prey, trained his gaze on the flame-haired woman not five feet away from him.
Emma kept a polite smile pasted to her face as she went though another round of introductions. Her aunt had already declared the ball—and Emma— a glittering success. Aunt Caroline couldn’t believe the number of young men who had begged her and her husband for an introduction to their niece. And Emma had behaved beautifully. She was witty and bright and, thankfully, hadn’t done anything too outrageous. Caroline knew that her niece found it a trial to be continuously correct.
In actuality, Emma wasn’t finding her correct behavior overly burdensome. She was simply too tired to live up to her mischievous reputation even if she had wanted to. It was all she could do to keep up amusing banter with the many people she had met that evening. Even with a pounding headache, Emma refused to give London the misconception that she was a shy, retiring miss. It was her opinion that the ton already had far too many of those.
“Emma, dear,” her aunt called. “I want you to meet Lord and Lady Humphries.”
Emma smiled as she held out her hand to the plump pair. Lord Humphries, who looked to be about thirty-five years older than Emma, bowed courteously and kissed her knuckles. “I’m very pleased to meet both of you,” Emma said politely, her American accent apparent.
“Then it’s true!” Lord Humphries said triumphantly. “You are from the Colonies! Good old Percy over there wagered you were from France. ‘With a last name like Dunster?’ I said. ‘No, she’s from good English stock, even if she did defect to the Colonies.’ And I was right. I’m going to have to go and collect my wager.”
Before Emma could say anything more, he’d waddled away in search of his crony. Emma was somewhat surprised at the amount of attention being paid to her and more than a little flustered that people were actually making wagers about her origins. Ned had told her that the ton often made wagers to amuse themselves, but this was ridiculous. Didn’t they have anything more interesting to do with their time? She turned to Lady Humphries, who’d been stranded by her husband, and smiled weakly. “How do you do, Lady Humphries?”
“Very well, thank you,” she replied. Lady Humphries had a friendly manner but seemed slightly daft. “Do tell me,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Is it true that wild bears roam free in Boston? I understand that the Colonies are overrun with savages and wild beasts.”
Emma could see her aunt roll her eyes and groan in expectation of another of her niece’s lectures about the many wonderful qualities of the United States. But Emma just leaned forward, took both of the older lady’s hands in her own, and said—just as conspiratorially as Lady Humphries—“Actually, Boston is quite civilized. You’d feel quite at home there.”
“No!” Lady Humphries said, shocked.
“No, really. We even have dressmakers there.”
“Really?” Lady Humphries’s eyes were wide with interest.
“Yes, and milliners, too.” Emma nodded slowly, her eyes wide. “Of course they often get destroyed when the wolves come through town.”
“Wolves! You don’t say!”
“Yes, and they’re so terribly vicious. Why, I lock myself in my home each year for weeks in fear of them.”
Lady Humphries fanned herself vigorously. “Oh my. Oh my, I have to go tell all this to Margaret. If you’ll excuse me.” Eyes wide with a mix of horror and delight, she darted away from Emma and disappeared into the crowd.
Emma turned to her aunt and cousin, both of whom were shaking with mirth. “Oh, Emma,” Belle laughed, wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”