ady Ashton’s ball proved to be a lavish affair, with over eight hundred guests swarming on her glittery ballroom and a legion of servants rushing to and fro, it was indeed a remarkable night of revelry. There was even the speculation that the King George himself might as well make an appearance to which had induced brighter prospects among the members of the ton that were present tonight.

But then, speculations were mere speculations, and those who had wager that His Majesty would, in all certainty, honor this ball with his presence were fated to be vastly disappointed and their purses be reduced.

This was why Lord Robert March prompted a derisive snort upon hearing such asinine way his fellow Englishmen’s brains worked and only remarked, “King George, my foot. I bet my whole fortune that he’s presently occupied between the sheets with his new mistress, if not the state affairs.”

Lord Stokeford, who was ever nonchalant about London and its daily dose of trivialities, just grunted an incomprehensible sound, a wise course of action when one lacked a constructive reply. His entire attention caught however when he felt a soft poke on his right rib that made him turned his head sharply to the side. What he saw were big green eyes smiling up at him.

It was Caroline.

“Good evening, my lord.”

“Has someone ever taught you how to greet properly?” Stefan asked dryly.

Much to his annoyance, Caroline had already marched in front of Robert and greeted him with perfect curtsy, to which Robert returned in most amiable manner and with a graceful bow afterwards.

He stared at her in disbelief. The fact that she had poked him—poked him!—and did not even bother to make a curtsy, when Robert had otherwise received a proper greeting, had somehow added to the injury. Not that he was a prig and a good minion to the dictates of propriety, but dash it all, he was an Earl and he deserved at least a proper courtesy!

“Good evening, my lord,” a soft voice called from behind him.

He swung his head and saw the golden figure of Miss Sophie Winscott, breathtakingly beautiful in her silver gown. The resentment he felt just now fled in a trice.

“Miss Winscott,” Stefan bowed gracefully. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The feeling, I assure you, is mutual,” she replied.

An angelic smile lit her features, the kind which made him staggered backward and that something had sucked the air from his lungs. Stefan had never felt this before, and although he wasn’t given to that flurry of emotions most poets spouting about on their pieces, at the very least he could admit that this was a pure attraction. Miss Winscott was the epitome of perfection, a jewel amidst the coarse stones.

“Miss Winscott!” Robert interjected, turning towards them. “How lovely to see you again!”

Sophie smiled at him and murmured her greeting, then asked, “Have you seen my cousin?”

“She went to the refreshment table. Ah, there she is,” he stared ahead to see Caroline having her way through the crowd and walking towards them, a glass of lemonade in hand.

Just then, the music had started and Robert had asked Sophie to dance, leaving Stefan alone with Caroline, who appeared to enjoy her refreshment immensely while gazing at the swirling couples on the dance floor.

The companionable silence between them broke when she eventually asked, “Why didn’t you dance with Sophie?”

“I would have if Robert had not asked her first.”

Smiling slyly, she made a clucking sound. “My, you are not so prompt, are you?”

His answer was only a glare.

Caroline sighed, rather unnecessarily loud for Stefan, and said, “You know, Sophie has an awful lot of suitors. Some of them are nice enough, but several are really arrogant bores, I should say.”

“I fail to see what Miss Winscotts’ suitors have anything to do with me,” Stefan drawled, not quite looking at the chit beside him.

He heard her made a harrumphing sound, and that gave him a primitive satisfaction. Coming from Caroline, it sounded almost adorable that his lips stretched into a small smile, though unaware as he was about it.

“You know—”

“What now?”

This time Caroline gave him a piercing look. “You know, you should listen to what others have to say before airing your questions. It is unmannerly and borders on being disagreeable to most people.”

To be reprimanded by her—this chit who was half his size and whom he suspected was less decorous herself—about some tidbits of good behavior left Stefan dumbfounded. Why, even his governess was unlikely to pull off that condescending manner in front of him the way Caroline just did!

He peered at her for the first time during the course of their conversation. Funny, he thought, when half of London was likely afraid of him, this one slip of a girl proved to be undaunted. This pert girl with big expressive eyes and blue black hair…

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he murmured much to himself than to Caroline.

She smiled then—that wide, cheeky smile that seemed to be always lurking on the corners of her lips and on her emerald eyes. “No, of course not!” she replied blithely. “Whyever would I be?”

“I’m certain that London Society would be most accommodating to supply you the answer.”

Caroline’s brows furrowed as she weighed his words. London Society was surely a bunch of prejudiced people with more eyes for superficiality than what was true and innate. And it occurred to her then that no matter how Lord Stokeford flaunted indifference, he was still painfully aware of the censures thrown on his back.

“Whatever answers they have,” she said softly, looking earnestly on his blue eyes, “it doesn’t signify at all.”

That rendered Stefan speechless for a fleeting moment. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he eventually spotted someone coming towards them. It only took that dark bruise he was sporting under his right eye for Stefan to completely recognize his person.

“Damn.”

Caroline saw him, too, and gasped. “It’s Lord Randwick!”

“Come, dance with me.” He practically dragged her to the dance floor, and before Caroline could even think of anything else, she already found herself in Stefan’s arms, their bodies moving in the beat of music.

“What do you think could he want of us?” she asked with a little perturbation. “Do you think he recognizes you from the other night?”

Stefan frowned and replied, “Either he wants your neck or mine. Although it’s probable that he might not consider the latter, for there is nothing that would compel me to stop reaching his neck first before he’d have the chance to touch mine.”

Caroline let out a nervous giggle. That might be true if given the chance, and judging from the disparity between the two, there was no doubt that Lord Stokeford would emerge a victor.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t fell him here in the ballroom, would you?”

“That somehow has a merit,” he murmured. “At least we could leave him here without our conscience pricking at the thought of him being unconscious and alone.”

A peal of laughter bubbled from her lips again. “You certainly have an odd sense of humor, my lord!”

He grunted and muttered under his breath, “And I certainly think you have an odd common sense.”

Either Caroline did not at all hear that gibe, or that she preferred to ignore it, Stefan could not know, for she diverted their conversation into a different topic, one that had certainly caught his interest, although he hid it well under a stoic façade. 

“Sophie likes to dance. I remember when we were little, she used to teach me how to, although,” Caroline smiled sheepishly, “it had proved to be an excruciating pursuit for her.”

“Ah, but I’m certain she’d prevailed, considering that my toes are still well and intact.”

But no sooner had he finished the remark than Caroline had missed a step and accidentally trod on his right foot.

He sucked his breath. That hurt.

“Oh! Forgive me! I didn’t mean to!”

“It was actually a compliment, you know,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Well, yes, I know! That is why I am sorry,” Caroline said contritely, searching his hard countenance for something that might resemble leniency. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

Stefan sighed. In all truth, he felt quite resentful whenever his shoes were being harassed, not to mention the further injury inflicted on his toes, but with Caroline, perhaps he could only relent. She looked so remorseful while chewing her lower lip, but her gaze never faltered as they fixed on his eyes. “It’s all right, brat. No need to fret about it.”

Caroline smiled in relief. “You know, we could be friends. I daresay we would get along quite famously!” she exclaimed, but her face shadowed for a brief moment and looked a little flustered. “Er, th-that is, if you wanted to, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow at this somewhat bizarre proposal. Well, at least for him, it was bizarre, since there was no lady who had made a sort of friendship with him rather than a mere acquaintance. But then, he pointed out wryly, Caroline was different, and he should not be surprised at all if she was so full of surprises.

“I can’t imagine how we could get along quite famously.”

“Well, I could be of help to you!”

Stefan eyed her suspiciously. “And why is that?”

“Why, I could help you with Sophie! And don’t say I am mistaken! I know very well that you like her,” Caroline giggled.

He shot her an irritated glance, but never said anything.

But she was the most persistent and meddlesome woman he’d ever likely encountered, and his silence would never deter her in pursuing what she had in her mind.

So, as if to prove that, she announced, “I know you’re just a little embarrassed into admitting it. But never worry, my lord. I won’t breathe a word to Sophie! I say, why don’t you call on us tomorrow? I’m sure she would be very delighted!”

Stefan had considered that as well. If he would start calling on Miss Winscott, he might as well ready himself for a courtship. Yes, later tonight he would make up his mind on that matter—with the help of Robert, of course. He surely knew a lot of things regarding courtships.

“Fine,” he replied with no hint of enthusiasm on his voice.

But somehow, he had the odd feeling that tomorrow might be the new beginning of his life.