Free Birds of a Feather by Allison Lane Page A

throbbed where he had grasped her, and not from pain. Up close, he left her breathless. Now she knew why he seemed so different from other gentlemen. His dandy airs covered a burning masculinity that few men possessed. It simmered just beneath the surface, flaring when he was angry into a force that could overpower anyone.
    She shivered, appalled at her reaction. How could she respond to an arrogant lord of limited intelligence and less regard for her feelings? A lord who would grant precedence to pond scum over her. A lord who could destroy Harriet with a word, and might well do so to avenge his damaged dignity. He would not forgive this debacle any time soon.
    Forgetting to apologize to the woman she had knocked down, who was still screeching complaints, she headed home.
    All afternoon she debated whether to reveal her stupidity to Lady Wicksfield, though in the end, she remained silent. Nothing would prevent Lord Sedgewick from ruining her if he chose to do so, but there was a chance that he would not recognize her. While he had examined her more closely this time, he would hardly expect to find her at Almack’s, and she doubted whether he paid attention to minions even there. On the other hand, confessing her trouble might well cost her both this position and the governess post that awaited her, for Lady Wicksfield would immediately report it to the earl. Who would entrust their daughters to a woman whose head was in the clouds?
    Once they left for Almack’s, she had no time to brood. Containing Harriet’s excitement required all her attention.
    “I can’t believe we are nearly there!” the girl gasped, spotting the entrance as they joined the line of carriages inching along King Street. “I can hardly wait to behold its magnificence. How much grander will it be than Lady Ormsport’s ballroom?”
    “Calm yourself, Harriet,” Joanna reminded her. “Remember Society’s watchwords – elegance and ennui . You must keep your face and voice under control. Lady Hartford claims that Almack’s is neat but unembellished and that the refreshments are quite frugal. We have discussed this before.”
    “Of course.” Harriet clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “But it seems strange.”
    “Not at all. This is not a private ball. We must pay admission. The cachet of Almack’s is the exclusive company, for even money and position will not guarantee receiving the voucher that allows one to purchase a subscription. The patronesses require exceptional conduct and a spotless reputation. You can lose that voucher if your behavior displeases them, so mind your manners. Do not complain about anything, and never compare this to other gatherings. Do you understand why?”
    She nodded. “If they do not like me, I will not be allowed to return.”
    “Exactly.” At least one lesson had taken root. “Straighten your gloves and get ready,” she added as the carriage stopped at the door.
    The street was jammed, but she hardly saw the other vehicles. This was the moment of truth, the moment when she learned whether her latest lapse would condemn her. If she were refused admittance, Lady Wicksfield would have to send her back to the vicarage.
    But her fears proved groundless – so far. And the ballroom was more sumptuous than she had expected. Great columns marched down the long walls. Five large windows overlooked King Street, each framed by rich draperies. The musicians sat on a Juliet balcony supported by yet more columns. Londoners might think it plain, but to eyes accustomed to a village vicarage, it was magnificent.
    Harriet was soon surrounded by her court. Her dance card rapidly filled. Lady Wicksfield abandoned them to gossip with her friends.
    But Joanna’s mind kept wandering. Her eyes snapped toward the doorway whenever a gentleman appeared, irritating her, though she could not seem to stop.
    Concentrate on business, she admonished herself when she realized she was again staring at the entrance. She would fall into