Was he asking to dance with her? Apparently so, because he was already grabbing at the dance card on her wrist. She obliged him by lifting it up, and he scribbled his name on the next open line.
“Charming,” he said when he was done, and it took another moment for her to realize that it was his way of dismissing them. He turned immediately to scan the crowd before heading off in another direction.
“Don’t worry,” Lord Byrn said in her ear. “He’s a decent dancer. Won’t step on your toes.”
She hadn’t been worried until now. “I just hope I can remember the steps.” She was pretty sure she could, but then she’d never danced at a real ball before.
“I have every confidence—” he began, but a pair of gentlemen turned in their direction and spoke over his words.
“Byrn, hello there! Doing the pretty for your mother and sister?”
“And my sister’s dear friend. Gentleman, may I present Miss Amber Gohar.”
“Enchanted,” they said in unison. They bowed over her hand while Lord Byrn gave their names.
Each begged permission and then wrote their names next to dances, but their attention remained on Lord Byrn and politics. A different resolution this time. They were asking for his support, and Lord Byrn wasn’t as committed. The discussion lasted no more than three minutes, but then there were more gentlemen, more discussions, and more names upon her dance card. At least some of the men had ladies upon their arm. The women looked vaguely bored as they, too, were introduced, then held up their cards. Lord Byrn wrote his name and then paused long enough to record the lady’s name in his card.
In truth, there was a lot more writing and recording than she’d ever expected at a ball. And now that she was here, there were a lot of things that she hadn’t anticipated but saw as completely logical.
In her daydreams, she’d only thought of the dancing, but now she saw the business of the ballroom. All over were ladies standing in small groups, while the men approached. It didn’t take much to realize these ladies were searching for husbands. The men looking for wives went there and not to Amber. Older women sat in a clutch to one side, and men uninterested in the proceeding disappeared into what she guessed was the game room. Meanwhile, yet more gentlemen—the politicals if she were to guess—were busy greeting one another before leaping to whatever issue was important to them. Corn, finance, veterans. She had no understanding of it all, but Lord Byrn handled it with ease.
“Forgive me, gentleman, but I see Lady Castlereagh and must present Miss Gohar.”
The gentlemen faded away, and just as Amber was turning toward the portrait hung close by, his words finally registered. Lady Castlereagh? And he meant to present her? “What are you doing?” she asked, aghast. She was a tradeswoman. She couldn’t meet one of the reigning patronesses of society! Even she had heard of the ladies who ruled Almack’s with an iron hand.
But there was no time for it as Lord Byrn was bowing over the older lady’s hand. “You look quite lovely this evening,” he said. “May I present to you my sister’s dear friend, Miss Amber Gohar from Berlin? She is in town visiting for a time.”
Amber dropped into a curtsey while the woman frowned. “Gohar? Do I know that name?”
Good God, she hoped not! Could her father’s scandal have followed her here? Now?
“I doubt it,” Lord Byrn was saying. “She is from a small but respectable family. You know the Germans. Every family has a connection to some prince somewhere. But Miss Gohar is a delight and most welcome in our home.”
“Your sister’s friend, you say?”
“From school. Forgive me, but I can’t remember the specifics.”
Amber mentally scrambled for details. What would she say should the lady ask? But she was spared her lies as Lady Castlereagh tsked in the way of a fond aunt.
“Men never remember the important things.” She blew out a breath. “Very well. I suppose you have come to ask that she may waltz.”
Lord Byrn flashed a charming smile. “They are dancing it already on the Continent.”
The lady pursed her lips in thought while Amber’s pulse beat rapidly in her throat. She needed permission to dance the waltz? She hadn’t known. And already there were names on her card next to the scandalous dance. What if she was denied permission? What if—
“It is good to see your sister out again in society. Does she fare well? I hear her husband has fallen ill.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true. In fact, I believe she would have remained at his bedside if it were not for Miss Gohar’s presence.”
“Hmm.” The woman looked at Amber again, and this time her inspection was quite thorough. She seemed to study everything from Amber’s head down to her slippered toes, her gaze lingering on the flaws in the rapidly remade gown. At least in Amber’s mind, she did. “That is an interesting design in your hair piece. Family crest?”
The lion? “Of a sort, my lady.” Thank God she wasn’t stammering, though it was a near thing. “It is a beast that means a great deal to my family. It symbolizes courage in uncertain times.”
“Yes, yes. Though not quite as uncertain as it once was, now that the Corsican is gone.”
“Quite right,” Lord Byrn said.
Napoleon was defeated, and the world was returning to some form of normalcy. At least that’s what Amber assumed they meant. Politics had never been of much interest to her, and yet among these people, it was their daily fare. After all, they were the ones running the country, and she was no one at all.
“Very well, Lord Byrn, she may dance,” Lady Castlereagh said loudly. “Provided I see you at Almack’s in two days.” She arched a brow. “Have we a bargain?”
“We do,” he said as he bowed over her hand. And as he did so, the lady shot a look at Amber.
“You are welcome as well. I shall see that the vouchers are sent.”
What? Her in Almack’s? The haven of the most proper, most elite ladies of the ton? Amber waited until they were just beyond earshot before she spoke, her voice squeaking slightly in alarm.
“I can’t go to Almack’s!”
Lord Byrn exchanged a nod with another gentleman, but his words were for her. “Whyever not? It’s just her way of getting me to the marriage mart. There’s nothing sacred about that place. Quite the opposite.”
Of course, there was nothing special about it. To him. But she’d been hearing tales of the place since she first started helping the dance master at the Lyon’s Den. The girls who came there spoke of an Almack’s voucher as if they were describing a royal decree. And Amber had daydreamed the missives into an elaborate gold envelope with a blood-red seal. The paper was the whitest linen ever made, and every stroke of the pen was beautiful in curve as it was in content.
She was to receive one of those missives! Sweet heaven, she was giddy with delight. Until Lord Byrn realized what they were discussing and why she’d said she couldn’t go.
“Oh, right. That’s in two days, and our business will be done by then.” He pursed his lips. “I suppose I can fashion some excuse for you. I’ll have to go, but you needn’t be bothered.”
Bothered? Bothered! The man didn’t understand anything at all. She’d give her right hand to attend. But before she could speak, they came to the portrait. The one of Lady Morthan in her youth as she wore the brooch Amber was supposed to copy.