His skin was tanned, as if he’d lived an outdoor life. It wasn’t at all a fashionable look. It made him look tough. Hard. Ungentlemanly.
And yet she found him disturbingly attractive.
She felt a blush rising. It stiffened her spine. She didn’t know this man, had never been introduced and didn’t like the way his eyes met hers without a trace of self-consciousness. She’d had enough of arrogant men to last a lifetime. She lifted her chin and met his gaze full on. She would not be intimidated.
His mouth quirked. His eyes darkened.
“Excuse me, please.” She waited for him to step aside.
He didn’t move, just watched her with a faint smile playing around his firm, well-shaped mouth.
She gave him a cold look and stepped pointedly around him. She was aware, as she walked away, of those gray eyes following her shamelessly. It was like a warm, unsettling touch.
She presented him with a straight spine in return.
“Who was that?” Lucy whispered.
“No idea. Whoever he is, he needs a lesson in manners.” She felt cross and ridiculously flustered. Those bold glances, that air of assurance, as if he had every right to accost her when they’d never even been introduced.
All these years she’d been invisible to men. Now, because she was widowed . . . Or was it the dress? Was it too revealing after all? She glanced down. It wasn’t. The neckline was restrained and discreet.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have worn her old dove-gray gown. Or one of her dusty blacks.
“He seemed to know you.”
“Well, I don’t know him.” She’d never seen him before in her life; she was sure of it. He was not the sort of man one forgot.
“Perhaps, but he obviously wants to know you.” Lucy glanced back, eyeing him curiously. “How is it that a man can be—well, he’s rugged more than handsome, and yet somehow he’s more attractive than the really handsome men here. He makes them look, I don’t know, pretty. And a bit useless.”
Alice gave her a sharp glance. Was Lucy interested in him? Young girls did often look to older men for a husband.
“A pity he’s so old,” Lucy finished.
“Old? He can’t be above forty,” Alice said crossly.
“Yes, as I said, ‘old.’ ” Lucy gave her a mischievous look. “Besides, he’s interested in you, not me.”
“Me? Nonsense!” Alice said briskly. “Now, let me introduce you to these girls.”
The girls were clustered together near the window, talking and laughing hilariously. Lord, had she ever been so young and carefree? And why were there so many young ladies at a supposedly small family party. Only two of the six were in any way related to the family, and they were both distant—second or third cousins.
Alice greeted the girls she knew, and after the various introductions had been made, she edged quietly back, so as not to inhibit them.
After a few minutes of initially tentative conversation, the girls started to relax. Then Lucy said something that made them all laugh, and after that they were all talking and laughing happily. Alice smiled to herself: their silly, lighthearted chatter made her feel positively ancient.
Several of the girls’ mothers were sitting at the side of the room, keeping a weather eye on their daughters while having a cozy chat. Should she join them? None was particularly a friend, but perhaps it was time to start making friends of her own, other than the ladies Thaddeus had instructed her to cultivate.
Not one of them had called after Thaddeus died.
Two older gentlemen approached the group of girls, flirting ponderously—no danger there. The other mothers didn’t give them more than a glance. Alice was pleased to see that while Lucy made no effort to put herself forward, going by the attention both gentlemen paid her, she was making a good impression.
It seemed the badly behaved Lucy really was a thing of the past.
Feeling thirsty, Alice signaled to a footman who was gliding through the crowd bearing a tray of gently fizzing glasses. He didn’t see her. She looked around for another footman and lifted her hand, but he, too, didn’t notice. Why was it that women of a certain age seemed to become invisible?
The chattering girls suddenly fell silent. Had Lucy made a mistake? Alice glanced around. All eyes were turned in her direction, and there was a sudden fluttering of fans and eyelashes. One girl gave a nervous giggle, hastily stifled. What on earth?
“Aunt Alice,” said a voice at her elbow.
She turned. “Oh, Gerald. Many happy returns of the day. Are you enjoying your party?” She glanced briefly at the tall man who stood at her nephew’s elbow. Him again.
“I’d like you to meet my former commanding officer, Colonel—Lord Tarrant. Tarrant, this is my aunt, the dowager Lady Charlton.”
The tall man bowed over Alice’s hand. “Delighted to meet you, my lady.”
“Colonel Lord Tarrant,” she murmured.
“Just Lord Tarrant,” he said. “I’m no longer a colonel. I’ve sold out. And you look far too young and pretty to be a dowager.” His gray gaze didn’t shift. She felt her cheeks warming.
Was he one of those—the kind of man who thought a widow was up for anything? She knew perfectly well she was neither young nor pretty.
“Allow me to fetch you a drink.” He lifted a finger—one finger!—and immediately two footmen glided up—two!—presenting her with a choice of ratafia, champagne or lemonade. Trying not to feel aggrieved, she accepted a glass of lemonade and drank thirstily.
The girls behind her were still whispering and giggling.
Gerald leaned toward Alice and said quietly, “That girl you came in with—the girl in the golden gown—would I have met her somewhere?”
“I doubt it,” Alice said. The colonel’s intense regard was unsettling her. She wished he’d go away. “She’s only just come to London. Her name is Lucy Bamber, and she’s my goddaughter.”
Gerald hadn’t taken his eyes off Lucy. “Will you introduce us?”
She hesitated, recalling Almeria’s demand, but she could hardly refuse to introduce them when Gerald had specifically asked her. “Yes, of course. Lucy?” She beckoned.
Lucy turned and noticed Gerald, and her bright smile abruptly faded. For a split second Alice could have sworn there was a panicked look in her eyes, but before she could be sure of what she’d seen, Lucy was approaching with nothing more than an expression of mild inquiry.
The girlish whispering and giggling stopped. Looks were exchanged, and the small group of young ladies focused intently, like pointers scenting prey. Their mothers’ heads came up, and all conversation stopped.