Again he scanned the room, and his jaw tightened. Blast. After being forced to wait for what felt like an eternity finally to court her, why couldn’t Lady Catherine-albeit unknowingly-at least soothe his anxiety by showing herself?

The hum of conversation surrounded him, marked by peals of laughter and the chime of fine crystal goblet rims touching in congratulatory toasts. Prisms of light reflected off the highly polished parquet floor from the dozens of candles glowing in the sparkling crystal chandeliers, casting the room in a warm, golden glow. Over one hundred of Society’s finest had turned out for Lord Ravensly’s sixtieth birthday party. Society’s finest and… me.

He reached up and tugged at his carefully tied cravat. “Damned uncomfortable neckwear,” he muttered. Whoever had invented the constraining blight on fashion should be tossed in the Thames. Although his expertly tailored formal black cutaway rivaled that of any noble gentleman in the room, part of him still felt like a weed amongst the hothouse flowers. Uncomfortable. Out of his element. And painfully aware that he stood far outside the lofty social strata in which he currently found himself- certainly much further than anyone present would ever have expected. His long-standing friendship with Lord Ravensly’s son Philip, and growing friendship with Lord Ravensly himself, as well as Lady Catherine, had secured Andrew an invitation to this evening’s elegant birthday celebration. Too bad Philip himself wasn’t here. With Meredith soon to give birth, Philip hadn’t wanted to venture far from his wife’s side.

Although perhaps it was just as well that Philip wasn’t in attendance. When he had given Andrew his blessing to court Lady Catherine, he’d warned Andrew that his sister wouldn’t be eager to marry again, given her disastrous first marriage. The last thing Andrew needed was to have Philip nearby, muttering words of doom.