Anna flicked open her fan, held it up so that she could scan the room. The Scot and the other gentlemen remained deeply entrenched in conversation, and much to her dismay, Drake was still in the company of Lucy. From where she stood, she could see Lucy coyly laughing.
Unable to watch the flirtation between her sister and the man she so admired, Anna turned away—at which point she happened to see Miss Crabtree, alone, perched on the edge of her seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The poor dear—she had the dual misfortune of being quite plain and rather soft-spoken. The combination of the two always kept her apart from the rest of the crowd, and even on those rare occasions a kind soul would take pity and attempt to draw her in, no one could hear a word the girl said.
Anna could hardly abide it—the ton could be so cruel at times—and began walking purposefully in Miss Crabtree’s direction, intent on speaking with her. But as she moved toward Miss Crabtree, she noticed that the Scottish earl and Mr. Fynster-Allen were likewise walking toward Miss Crabtree, and it became plainly evident that they meant to speak with her.
Poor Miss Crabtree had noticed them, too, and white as a sheet, she tried to sit a little straighter.
Mr. Fynster-Allen was the first to reach her, and bent over to speak. Miss Crabtree was instantly nodding, allowing Mr. Fynster-Allen to help her to her feet, and glancing uneasily at the Scottish earl, who at that moment stepped from behind Mr. Fynster-Allen and bowed deeply.
A breath caught in Anna’s throat as he stopped fully in her view. Dear heaven, but he was extraordinarily handsome, with a square jaw, an angular nose, and deep-set, gorgeously green eyes. And when he smiled—a frighteningly charming smile—it was so bright and warm that she could feel her belly flutter as Miss Crabtree dipped a terribly awkward curtsey, from which the earl rescued her by reaching for her hand and lifting her up.
Miss Crabtree (all right, and Anna, too) almost swooned; she looked up at the earl, tipping her head all the way back to see him, her mouth agape.
Much to Anna’s considerable amazement, the earl extended his arm, onto which Miss Crabtree laid a trembling hand, and he led her onto the dance floor.
The parting of the Red Sea could not possibly have been more dramatic, for not one person in the ballroom missed his exceptional act of kindness.
He moved Miss Crabtree effortlessly and gracefully about the dance floor, and tiny talons of envy pricked at Anna’s insides. The couple swirled past the small orchestra, beneath the six circles of beeswax candles hanging from the ceiling, and past the floor-to-ceiling French doors that led out into the gardens— but then something else caught her eye, and Anna nearly dropped her fan.
Just behind the beaming Miss Crabtree, Drake and her sister stepped out into the night.
Her heart sank; she instantly started in that direction, moving against the crowd, navigating her way through the chairs and people and the ridiculous number of decorative plants until she found her way out onto the veranda—but Lockhart and Lucy were nowhere to be seen.
Oblivious to the couples standing around her, Anna stood there for several minutes, debating whether she should walk into the gardens and confront them or simply hope it was not as it seemed and return to the ballroom. But as she believed her heart could not bear the sight of them locked in some moonlit embrace, she finally lowered her head, turned, and walked back through the French doors— and almost collided with Miss Crabtree, who, with a sheen of perspiration on her brow, was grinning wildly. “Miss Addison!” she cried buoyantly and very plainly. “I didn’t know you had come this evening!”
Anna gathered her wits. “I shouldn’t miss it,” she said, lifting a smile to Miss Crabtree. And oh!—the Scottish earl was standing behind her. Her gaze traveled up to his dark brows, one cocked in amusement above his green eyes.
“Have you had the pleasure of making Lord Ardencaple’s acquaintance?” Miss Crabtree asked, and Anna could only shake her head as her gaze fell to his lips.
“If I may present my good friend, Miss Addison.”
Somehow Anna managed to lift her hand and dip a curtsey. He smiled pleasantly, took her hand in his big one, and bent over it, his lips grazing her gloved knuckles. “A pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Miss Addison,” he said in a lovely, lilting accent.
Her gaze steady on his smile, those lips, those lovely yet masculine lips, Anna muttered, “The pleasure is certainly all mine, my lord.”
He cocked a curious brow, but Anna couldn’t speak, could hardly even move. Lord Ardencaple shifted his smile to Amelia Crabtree. “Shall we take a wee bit of air, Miss Crabtree?”
“I’d be delighted,” she said, beaming up at him.
“Will ye excuse us then, Miss Addison?” he asked.