matter-of-factly.
“Thank you, Banks.” Thomas grinned. The valet had impeccable taste and he was right. The man smiling back in the mirror was the epitome of fashion and wore an air of supreme confidence. Handsome. Dashing. A man of the world.
“It’s time, my lord.”
Thomas grimaced. He’d never arrived at a ball on time in his life, but Lady Dragon insisted propriety dictated he and the girls, as host and guests of honor, be on hand from the first to greet the arrivals. He might as well get it over with.
He cast one more glance in the mirror, adjusted his cuffs and started for the door. “It’s going to be an interesting evening, Banks.”
“Isn’t it always, my lord?”
Tonight, however, was different. He headed toward the ballroom. Tonight marked the Shelton sisters’ official entry into society. And their entry into the marriage market—whether they liked it or not. He chuckled to himself. They’d be wed before they knew it.
There was something about knowing one looked one’s best that bolstered the confidence of a man, and Thomas was extremely confident tonight. He’d even compiled a list of potential suitors, excluding Pennington and Berkley, of course. In fact, when he thought about it, he realized most of his friends weren’t among those he considered appropriate matches.
The thought pulled him up short. What was the matter with him? When had he discarded the philosophy that any man, so long as he breathed regularly and walked upright, for appropriate ? If this was what the fathers of girls went through, Thomas vowed never to sire anything but sons.
He reached the first floor and glanced around. Footmen in full livery were already stationed beside the front entry below him in the grand foyer as well as at the foot of the stairs. Two more flanked the doors leading into the ballroom. The floors sparkled, the marble gleamed, the chandeliers glittered. Effington House was as perfectly turned out as he was.
“Good evening, my lord.” Lady Dragon descended the stairs to the first-floor gallery.
“My lady.” Thomas caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You are looking exceptionally lovely tonight.”
“Don’t bam me, boy,” she said sharply, but she was obviously pleased by the compliment.
“I never lie to beautiful women,” he lied, although in truth the older woman did look surprisingly handsome.
She’d discarded the overly proper and rather drab clothes she habitually wore for a fashionably styled gown in a deep claret color. A matching turban of silk and feathers was wrapped around her head. With a start he realized she was probably no older than his mother, and no one had ever accused the Duchess of Roxborough of being dowdy or plain. Perhaps the title of Lady Dragon should be retired.
He leaned closer and spoke softly into her ear. “You should take care, my lady, or you will quite outshine your charges.”
“And you should take care, my lord, or I will be forced to smile, and I have done so once this year already.” The twinkle in her eye belied her words. “We would not want the earth to shake on such a festive night.”
She withdrew her hand and her gaze shifted to a point behind him. Something that might indeed have been a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good evening, my dears.”
Thomas turned and tried not to gape.
If he’d thought Jocelyn and Becky were lovely before, they were radiant now.
Jocelyn was an angel from the heavens. An inviting confection in a filmy white gown dusted with gold that floated around her. White and gold ribbons threaded through her honey-colored hair.
Becky, beside her, was an earthbound temptress in a pale green concoction that deepened the emerald of her eyes and complemented the mahogany hue of her hair. And molded a figure he’d never realized was so enticing.
“Ladies.” He bowed. “I am overwhelmed.”
The sisters exchanged satisfied smiles.
“Good evening, Aunt Louella,” Jocelyn said and extended
“Thank you, Banks.” Thomas grinned. The valet had impeccable taste and he was right. The man smiling back in the mirror was the epitome of fashion and wore an air of supreme confidence. Handsome. Dashing. A man of the world.
“It’s time, my lord.”
Thomas grimaced. He’d never arrived at a ball on time in his life, but Lady Dragon insisted propriety dictated he and the girls, as host and guests of honor, be on hand from the first to greet the arrivals. He might as well get it over with.
He cast one more glance in the mirror, adjusted his cuffs and started for the door. “It’s going to be an interesting evening, Banks.”
“Isn’t it always, my lord?”
Tonight, however, was different. He headed toward the ballroom. Tonight marked the Shelton sisters’ official entry into society. And their entry into the marriage market—whether they liked it or not. He chuckled to himself. They’d be wed before they knew it.
There was something about knowing one looked one’s best that bolstered the confidence of a man, and Thomas was extremely confident tonight. He’d even compiled a list of potential suitors, excluding Pennington and Berkley, of course. In fact, when he thought about it, he realized most of his friends weren’t among those he considered appropriate matches.
The thought pulled him up short. What was the matter with him? When had he discarded the philosophy that any man, so long as he breathed regularly and walked upright, for appropriate ? If this was what the fathers of girls went through, Thomas vowed never to sire anything but sons.
He reached the first floor and glanced around. Footmen in full livery were already stationed beside the front entry below him in the grand foyer as well as at the foot of the stairs. Two more flanked the doors leading into the ballroom. The floors sparkled, the marble gleamed, the chandeliers glittered. Effington House was as perfectly turned out as he was.
“Good evening, my lord.” Lady Dragon descended the stairs to the first-floor gallery.
“My lady.” Thomas caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You are looking exceptionally lovely tonight.”
“Don’t bam me, boy,” she said sharply, but she was obviously pleased by the compliment.
“I never lie to beautiful women,” he lied, although in truth the older woman did look surprisingly handsome.
She’d discarded the overly proper and rather drab clothes she habitually wore for a fashionably styled gown in a deep claret color. A matching turban of silk and feathers was wrapped around her head. With a start he realized she was probably no older than his mother, and no one had ever accused the Duchess of Roxborough of being dowdy or plain. Perhaps the title of Lady Dragon should be retired.
He leaned closer and spoke softly into her ear. “You should take care, my lady, or you will quite outshine your charges.”
“And you should take care, my lord, or I will be forced to smile, and I have done so once this year already.” The twinkle in her eye belied her words. “We would not want the earth to shake on such a festive night.”
She withdrew her hand and her gaze shifted to a point behind him. Something that might indeed have been a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good evening, my dears.”
Thomas turned and tried not to gape.
If he’d thought Jocelyn and Becky were lovely before, they were radiant now.
Jocelyn was an angel from the heavens. An inviting confection in a filmy white gown dusted with gold that floated around her. White and gold ribbons threaded through her honey-colored hair.
Becky, beside her, was an earthbound temptress in a pale green concoction that deepened the emerald of her eyes and complemented the mahogany hue of her hair. And molded a figure he’d never realized was so enticing.
“Ladies.” He bowed. “I am overwhelmed.”
The sisters exchanged satisfied smiles.
“Good evening, Aunt Louella,” Jocelyn said and extended
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