And the opening set was to be danced with the Marquess of Stanford. That had been a huge surprise. The man was known as one of the most eligible and elusive bachelors on the market. Not even on the market really. He must be well into his thirties already and showed no sign of giving up his single status, though he was wealthy, attractive, and charming, and had had mamas scheming for his capture for years. He very rarely singled out any of the young unmarried girls for any attention. And yet he had come up to her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, and before the accident with her gown, bowed and smiled, and entered his name on her card next to the opening set.

"We had better go, Celia," she said now, smiling her gratitude to the maid who had repaired her gown, "or we will miss the first set. Mr. Pope is to lead you out?"

"Yes," her friend replied. "And you are to dance with the Marquess of Stanford, Rachel? You will be the envy of every female at the ball."

"I do hope Algie arrives before the waltz," Rachel said. "And Mr. Gower for you, of course."

***

Lady Rachel Palmer was not difficult to spot in the ballroom, David found as soon as he and Algernon made their appearance halfway through the opening set. Perhaps it was because she was dancing with the Marquess of Stanford, a man who always seemed to draw all eyes his way. David remembered him from four years before when he had been in London last. Even at that time Stanford had been considered the catch of the marriage mart. He seemed able to combine those two fascinating qualities of warm charm and elusiveness. And it seemed he still wove his magic. David did not think that his were the only eyes on the couple.

There were Algie's, for example. He was actually watching them through a quizzing glass, a half-smile on his lips.