eleven years ago when she and Rosalind were presented to the ton .
“Thought I was seeing a ghost when I first clapped eyes on you.” Lord Nicholas once more raised his glass and surveyed her carefully. “You haven’t changed since I last saw you. When was it? Five, six years ago? Lud! You were with old Lady Henley then.”
“Yes. But Lady Henley died shortly afterward and I had to find a new position.”
“Why, this is famous!” Juliette broke in. “You know each other! And I was afraid poor Elizabeth would feel lost among so many strangers.”
“Devil a bit, no such thing!” exclaimed Nicholas, grinning cheerfully. “I’ve known Miss Gore-Langton since she made her first curtsy to society. And so has Clive. Just wait till he claps eyes on her!”
“He saw her this morning.” A puzzled note crept into Juliette’s voice. “To be sure, I don’t perfectly remember in the excitement of greeting Stewart’s parents, but I did not have the impression that Clive knew Elizabeth.”
Keeping her smile firmly in place, Elizabeth said, “And your impression was quite correct, Juliette. His grace did not recognize me.”
Lord Nicholas merely raised a brow, but Juliette, after the tiniest of incredulous silences, clapped her hands. “Oh, how I shall tease him about this! Clive always accuses me of having the most shocking memory.”
“Please don’t,” said Elizabeth, experiencing once again that detestable quake of dismay. “I mean—” She broke off, shrugging.
“You didn’t set him straight,” Nicholas said drily. He narrowed his eyes. “He didn’t recognize you at all? I find that hard to believe.”
“He suspects he met me somewhere,” she admitted.
“But you denied it,” said Juliette with unexpected shrewdness. She gave Elizabeth a speculative look. “I daresay I would have done the same, because now he’s forced to rack his brains to remember where and when he met you.”
An involuntary chuckle escaped Elizabeth. “That’s indeed what I intended. I thought it would serve him right for being so forgetful. But I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Why ever not?” asked Nicholas.
Under his quizzical gaze, warmth stole into her face. Did Nicholas remember that he had found her crying at Clive and Rosalind’s wedding? She’d had herself well in control while the vows were spoken, but after the wedding breakfast, when the young couple departed on their honeymoon, she could no longer stop the tears. An elderly lady had patted her back and told her to go ahead and have a good cry; it’s what a bridesmaid is supposed to do at her best friend’s wedding.
But Nicholas, when he found her in one of the anterooms at Stenton House, had handed her his handkerchief and, in an awkward attempt to comfort, had assured her that she’d get over it. Clive was not the only man on earth. Without a doubt, she’d fall in love again before the year was out.
She had been so horrified, her tears had dried on the instant. How had she given herself away? She had been so very careful to conceal her feelings, for there was nothing more detestable than a lady wearing her heart upon her sleeve.
She had immediately, haughtily, informed Lord Nicholas that he had quite misunderstood. She was crying because she knew how much she’d miss Rosalind. And for no other reason! Nicholas had nodded, looking grave but, unfortunately, unconvinced.
It was then that a most horrid suspicion had crept into her mind and left her paralyzed with embarrassment—the suspicion that she had, unwittingly, betrayed her feelings to others as well. To Rosalind, perhaps. Worse, to Clive Rowland himself.
Elizabeth shook off the memory and stole a look at Nicholas’s face. She saw mischief in the blue eyes but not, as she had feared, pity.
“Give you ten to one,” he said, “that Clive will remember who you are before Christmas. He’s got a restless mind. Won’t give him any peace till he’s figured out where he met you