“What are you doing with that?” James asked. “I don’t think that sort of jewelry is meant for gowns like yours.”

“Like what?”

“Your dress is made out of that light stuff,” he said. “Practically transparent.”

“The silk net is covering a plain muslin,” Theo told him. “This net is embroidered with curlicues and by far the best aspect of this wretched gown.”

He peered a little closer. “Does your mother know you aren’t wearing a chemise?”

“Of course I’m wearing a chemise!” Theo stated untruthfully. She fastened the piece just under her bosom, attached to the ribbon circling the gown’s high waist. “Besides, my undergarments are none of your business, James.”

“They are when I can see the whole line of your leg,” he said, scowling. “Your mother won’t like it.”

“Do you like it—and obviously, here I mean you as an exemplar of your sex?”

“Must you talk like that?” he complained. But he obediently glanced at Theo’s gown. She pushed her leg forward in such a way that its shape could be glimpsed—only glimpsed, mind you—through the silk net and its underskirt.

“It looks dashed odd,” James said bluntly. “And so does that jewel you have hanging just below your bosom. People will think that you’re deliberately trying to draw attention to that area.”

“I am,” she said with satisfaction. The garnet added a flash of color that complemented her hair ribbon. What’s more, any gentlemen who missed her cleavage on the first glance would be encouraged to take another look.

Not to mention the fact that James was the most handsome man at the ball and some of his allure would rub off on her. She wound her arm through his. “I’m ready to make my entrance.”

“Your mother will kill you. Or me,” he added, even more unhappily.

“You ogled me a moment ago.”

“I did not!” He made a fairly good stab at offended astonishment.

“Yes, you did,” Theo retorted. “And frankly, James, if you ogle, other men will as well. Let’s go back to the ballroom. I’m ready to find Geoffrey.”

“Do you see him anywhere?” she hissed a moment later, smiling and nodding at Lady Bower, who seemed distinctly intrigued by the sight of James at Theo’s side. Of course, she would be: she had three marriageable daughters.

“Who?” James said absentmindedly. He was pulling at his neck cloth again. “I think I’m going to suffocate. I don’t think I can take even a half hour of this.”

“Geoffrey!” she whispered, pinching his arm. “Remember? That’s why you’re here. You have to introduce me.”

James frowned down at her. “I thought you already knew him.”

“But he has never paid any attention to me,” Theo said with remarkable patience, to her mind. “I already told you that.”

James snorted. “That’s right. I’m supposed to turn the conversation around to dowries and then announce that yours is bigger than—”

“Hush!” She pinched him again, so sharply that he winced. “I’m counting on you not to botch this up.”

“I won’t.”

His eyes looked a little haunted. “It’s not so terrible being here, is it?” Theo asked, rather startled by the strain in his face. “I know you don’t like balls, James. If you just take me to Geoffrey, I promise to leave directly afterwards.”

They stopped to let pass a herd of people making their way to the refreshments table. “I believe you are making a mistake,” he said.

“About Geoffrey?”

James nodded. “I had to live with Trevelyan at Eton, and I wouldn’t want to repeat the experience or wish it on you.”

“It’s different if you’re married, silly!” Theo said. She could just see herself and Geoffrey sitting opposite each other at the breakfast table, reading the papers. He was so clever, and he would appreciate her wit the way no one else did, including James and her own mother.

“Marriage would be even worse,” James said. The crowd in front of them cleared, and they moved further into the ballroom. “At least I could wallop him when he was particularly pestilent.”

“My marriage is nothing for you to worry about. Just please keep an eye out for him, will you? I’m not quite tall enough to see over people’s heads.”

“All right, I see Trevelyan,” James said, drawing her to an opening in the crowd and motioning in the general direction of Theo’s quarry. “He’s with Claribel.”

“Naturally,” Theo said with a groan.

“She’s dashed pretty.”

“Flirt with her!” she commanded, struck by the idea. “You could do worse than marry her, you know.”

“You want me to marry cretinous Claribel?” James said, in a not-very-effective whisper.

“I suppose not.” Theo had just caught sight of Geoffrey, and she found herself clinging to James’s arm in a sudden bout of nerves.

Lord Geoffrey Trevelyan had light brown hair that he wore tousled in a style known as the Titus, and his clothes were always elegant, though not overly fastidious. But it was his face that fascinated Theo. It was narrow and sardonic, and the edges of his eyes slightly tilted up. You could take one glance and know that his lordship had graduated from Cambridge with a double first in philosophy and history.

He was just the right sort of man for Theo—not so handsome that she would always be aware that her husband was far better looking than she. (She actually felt a mild pity for whomever James married; that woman would forever remain in his shade.)

As it happened, Geoffrey was standing at the center of a knot of beautiful people. To a one, they had high cheekbones, deep bottom lips, and finely shaped noses. Even worse, they looked abominably clever, all except Claribel, of course.

Her stomach sank down to her knees, and for a moment she tried to hold James back. But just at that moment the group caught sight of him, and their faces lit up like tradesmen’s wives seeing the queen.

There were even a few who greeted her.

Geoffrey was one of them. “Miss Saxby,” he said, bowing.

Theo’s heart was pounding in her throat from pure excitement. “Lord Geoffrey,” she said, dropping a curtsy.

“Oh, Miss Saxby,” Lady Claribel Sennock said in her high, piping voice. “You look lovely. Come meet my cousin, Lady Althea Renwitt.”

“We’ve met,” Althea said with perfect indifference, her eyes skating over Theo’s bodice and then, without subtlety, riveting on James.

Watching her simper and hold out her hand to be kissed, Theo decided that there was nothing more rapacious than a young lady in the midst of a huddle of eligible gentlemen. Althea was like a fox with a clutch of hen’s eggs.

“Is he your escort for this evening?” Claribel whispered. “How lucky you are to have grown up with him.”

Theo really wished that Claribel was more of a beast; it would be easier to dislike her. Instead she was like tepid milk at bedtime. “James is very dear to me,” Theo said, trying to sound romantically inclined.

Just then Geoffrey made some sort of joke about the deposed King of Imeretia, who had been visiting the English court for the last fortnight, and everyone laughed. Theo turned, resolved to be as witty as he was, no matter the subject. James, of course, was right in the middle of the group, entirely at ease.