Free To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) by Barbara Devlin Page A

would be so proud.”
    “Thank you.” Despite Cara’s praise, Elaine needed Lance’s approval, and she glanced at her cousin. “Well, what do you think?”
    “You are beautiful, my dear.” Lance bent and kissed her forehead, but something in his countenance gave her pause.
    “Lance, is something wrong?” The only thing that could spoil the moment would be another argument with her cousin. Then a possible justification for his expression of sadness dawned on her. “You are not still worried about my affiliation with Sir Ross.”
    “No matter how old you get, I will always worry.” He favored her with a grin, as he chucked her chin. “It is just that I cannot believe how fast you have grown into a lovely young lady, and I am so proud of you.”
    “Stop.” Elaine sniffed. “Else you will make me cry.”
    “No dawdling, both of you.” Cara donned her cloak and snapped her fingers. “Sir Ross awaits our charge, so we must not be late.”
    And so Elaine departed Raynesford House in the family carriage for the short ride to the Netherton’s regal home. All but bouncing in the squabs, Elaine peered at Lance and slapped her thighs. “Daresay this is the most wonderful night of my life, and I am so grateful I can share it with you.”
    “As am I, dear cousin.” Lance stared out the window.
    “My love, are you unwell?” Furrowing her brow, Cara rested her palm in the crook of his elbow.
    “Everything is fine, sweetheart.” But his answering smile did little to inspire confidence, and Elaine fretted for him.
    Of course, any semblance of trouble escaped Elaine, when they arrived at their destination. Riding a wave of euphoria, she doffed her outerwear, rushed through the receiving line, and swept into the ballroom, in search for her not-so-hesitant suitor.
    Across a crowded hall, she spied her secret agent, resplendent in his black formal garb. When their gazes met, he favored her with the most affecting smile, and her knees buckled. Focusing her energies, she put one foot in front of the other, and he did the same, until they met in the middle, and Elaine feared her heart might burst with unrivaled elation.
    For a few minutes, Ross simply scrutinized her, and he blushed, which won her then and there. Silent, he offered his escort, which she accepted without prompt. Then he cleared his throat. “Good evening, Lady Elaine. May I compliment you on your sense of fashion, as you are a vision?”
    “Thank you, Sir Ross.” A murmur coursed the throng, as society noted the new pairing, and she squeezed his arm. “And I do so treasure the flowers. You were thoughtful to send the roses.”
    “I am glad you are pleased.” His was not the warm reception she anticipated.
    “To express my gratitude, I saved the opening dance, the first waltz, and the allemande for you.” Despite his reticence, which she attributed to a wicked case of nerves, given her mutual anxiety, she persevered. “And if you wish to partner me at dinner, I should be indebted to you.”
    “A gracious invitation I would never decline.” Something in his demeanor struck her as odd, given he neglected to look at her, as they navigated the sea of revelers.
    Beneath the unfamiliar and much disdained spotlight, she forced an appearance of serenity, but inside she grew agitated. It was a terrifying prospect, to enter the center stage for the amusement of the ton . While she dreaded the game, such vulgar spectacles manifested the associative price she had to pay as a member of so-called polite society.
    A string quartet occupied a landing of the cavernous chamber, and they struck the first notes of Boccherini’s Minuet . The elegant dance in triple meter, comprised of a series of pas menus , gave her a chance to gauge Ross’s mood. To Elaine’s chagrin, her partner seemed interested in everyone but her.
    “How did you know roses are my favorite?” she inquired.
    “Hmm—what?” He came alert. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Who told you of my