at his stomach again.
Lifting his chin, Julian scanned the ballroom.
“Who are you looking for?” Oscar couldn’t help but ask.
“Miss Katherine Wright. Ah, there she is, chatting with her mother.” He turned his attention back to Oscar. “If you care to play cards, don’t hold back on my account. Enjoy yourself. I’ll join you later in the card room. Perhaps we can find one or two more to make up a game of brag.”
“All right,” Oscar heard himself reply.
He frowned at Julian’s retreating back, the man’s long loose strides devouring the distance between himself and Miss Katherine.
Instead of heading to the card room alone, Oscar allowed himself to be pulled into a conversation with a dowager duchess. Sweet elderly woman, and quite kind. As she chatted on about the weather and her new barouche, Oscar could not stop his gaze from wandering back out onto the dance floor. To Julian, engaged in a country dance with Miss Katherine.
“My niece is having her come-out this Season. Very accomplished girl. I should introduce you to her.”
Oscar nodded. He could just make out Julian among the couples, on the far side of the floor, slowing to a stop as the music ended.
“Lovely.” She looped her elbow around Oscar’s. “Last I saw her, she was by the refreshment table. Shall we find her?”
Her who? What had he agreed to? And where had Julian gone? As he was tugged along, he caught sight of Julian through the crowd, speaking with Mark Wright, not making one move to go to the card room.
Ten minutes later, Oscar was able to politely disengage himself from the dowager duchess and her niece. A check of the ballroom proved Julian still hadn’t made a move to the card room. In fact, Julian was now in a conversation with not just Wright but Wright and two of the man’s friends.
Oscar set his empty wine glass on a footman’s tray and grabbed a brandy. In the back of his mind, he was aware he was sulking. He shouldn’t begrudge Julian his new friendships. He truly wanted Julian to be a success. It was what the man wanted. But not once did Julian pass his gaze over the crowd. Not one quick glance looking for Oscar.
As he stood near a potted palm, he let out a sigh. He could go to the card room by himself, but the prospect of being invited to join a table simply because he frequently lost held no appeal.
“Woodhaven, have you seen Radcliffe recently?”
Oscar pulled his attention from an obviously happy Julian, who was laughing at something someone said, and looked up to Anderson who stood beside him. “About a half hour or so ago. Said he was going to the card room.”
A frown creased Anderson’s brow. “He’s not there. I just checked.”
“Perhaps try the reading room.”
That frown made its way to the man’s mouth. “I’d rather not.” Anderson looked out over the ballroom. The frown vanished. “Never mind. He’s over talking with Parker. Much thanks, Woodhaven.” Anderson clapped him on the shoulder then left him to seek out Radcliffe.
The crowd in the ballroom swelled, couples moving on and off the dance floor at each pause in the music, as Julian continued on, chatting with his new friends.
For all Julian cared, Oscar might as well not be at the ball.
And the man couldn’t claim he had let time get away from him. The gold chain Oscar had selected dangled from his waistcoat.
Finally, Julian turned and began to make his way along the wall, in the direction of Oscar’s spot at the potted palm, a path that would take him toward the card room.
But he wasn’t alone.
Setting his empty brandy glass in the palm’s ceramic pot, Oscar took a step from the wall. “Julian.”
Julian turned his head in Oscar’s direction, pulling his attention off Wright beside him, and came to a stop. “Ah, Woodhaven.”
The smile tipping the edges of Julian’s mouth did nothing to placate the ugly familiar feeling that filled Oscar’s stomach. The one that came from knowing he’d been forgotten in
Lifting his chin, Julian scanned the ballroom.
“Who are you looking for?” Oscar couldn’t help but ask.
“Miss Katherine Wright. Ah, there she is, chatting with her mother.” He turned his attention back to Oscar. “If you care to play cards, don’t hold back on my account. Enjoy yourself. I’ll join you later in the card room. Perhaps we can find one or two more to make up a game of brag.”
“All right,” Oscar heard himself reply.
He frowned at Julian’s retreating back, the man’s long loose strides devouring the distance between himself and Miss Katherine.
Instead of heading to the card room alone, Oscar allowed himself to be pulled into a conversation with a dowager duchess. Sweet elderly woman, and quite kind. As she chatted on about the weather and her new barouche, Oscar could not stop his gaze from wandering back out onto the dance floor. To Julian, engaged in a country dance with Miss Katherine.
“My niece is having her come-out this Season. Very accomplished girl. I should introduce you to her.”
Oscar nodded. He could just make out Julian among the couples, on the far side of the floor, slowing to a stop as the music ended.
“Lovely.” She looped her elbow around Oscar’s. “Last I saw her, she was by the refreshment table. Shall we find her?”
Her who? What had he agreed to? And where had Julian gone? As he was tugged along, he caught sight of Julian through the crowd, speaking with Mark Wright, not making one move to go to the card room.
Ten minutes later, Oscar was able to politely disengage himself from the dowager duchess and her niece. A check of the ballroom proved Julian still hadn’t made a move to the card room. In fact, Julian was now in a conversation with not just Wright but Wright and two of the man’s friends.
Oscar set his empty wine glass on a footman’s tray and grabbed a brandy. In the back of his mind, he was aware he was sulking. He shouldn’t begrudge Julian his new friendships. He truly wanted Julian to be a success. It was what the man wanted. But not once did Julian pass his gaze over the crowd. Not one quick glance looking for Oscar.
As he stood near a potted palm, he let out a sigh. He could go to the card room by himself, but the prospect of being invited to join a table simply because he frequently lost held no appeal.
“Woodhaven, have you seen Radcliffe recently?”
Oscar pulled his attention from an obviously happy Julian, who was laughing at something someone said, and looked up to Anderson who stood beside him. “About a half hour or so ago. Said he was going to the card room.”
A frown creased Anderson’s brow. “He’s not there. I just checked.”
“Perhaps try the reading room.”
That frown made its way to the man’s mouth. “I’d rather not.” Anderson looked out over the ballroom. The frown vanished. “Never mind. He’s over talking with Parker. Much thanks, Woodhaven.” Anderson clapped him on the shoulder then left him to seek out Radcliffe.
The crowd in the ballroom swelled, couples moving on and off the dance floor at each pause in the music, as Julian continued on, chatting with his new friends.
For all Julian cared, Oscar might as well not be at the ball.
And the man couldn’t claim he had let time get away from him. The gold chain Oscar had selected dangled from his waistcoat.
Finally, Julian turned and began to make his way along the wall, in the direction of Oscar’s spot at the potted palm, a path that would take him toward the card room.
But he wasn’t alone.
Setting his empty brandy glass in the palm’s ceramic pot, Oscar took a step from the wall. “Julian.”
Julian turned his head in Oscar’s direction, pulling his attention off Wright beside him, and came to a stop. “Ah, Woodhaven.”
The smile tipping the edges of Julian’s mouth did nothing to placate the ugly familiar feeling that filled Oscar’s stomach. The one that came from knowing he’d been forgotten in
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