Graham smiled to himself, shaking his head. “Then do us both a kindness and confine the complaints to your head.”
“That is hardly as satisfying,” Tyrone grunted. “Did you convince Francis to come?”
“Didn’t have to,” Graham informed him, frowning at the lack of familiar faces. “I believe his wife took care of that, though I don’t see either of them here yet.”
Tyrone smirked and swiped a drink from a stoic footman. “It’s early in the evening for them. Or for anyone important, for that matter.”
“You’re here.”
“As I said, too early for anyone important.” He flashed a quick grin, then looked about the room himself. “Gads, this will get stuffy, though. Already twelve couples on the floor and barely room enough to maneuver. The Wintermeres must be feeling particularly ambitious this year.”
Graham looked at his friend again, ignoring the scratch of his over-starched cravat. “How would you know? You just said you never attend. This might be normal for them.”
Tyrone’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away quickly. “I’ve heard. The Spinster Chronicles have detailed the event every year.”
“I’m sure that’s it.” Graham nodded sagely, trying not to smile. Despite Tyrone’s comments, his friend hadn’t been overly difficult to convince to attend tonight. He’d made more noise after the fact than he had before it, and he was perfectly free to leave whenever he chose.
He wouldn’t do so, however. Tyrone’s pattern was fairly well established. He would dance a few times, never with a lady he had a particular interest in, then take himself off to the gaming room for a few hours, only to return to the ballroom for a few more dances with ladies of whom he approved. Any and all young ladies wishing for the attentions of Tyrone Demaris in truth would watch for his return from the gaming room, hoping for a dance.
Those chosen prior to his departure thence were usually sensible enough not to care either way, which was likely why they were chosen.
Graham had no such elaborate plans dictating his behaviors at balls and assemblies. He did as he wished, and only as he wished, and rarely thought through his actions of the night prior to his arrival.
Only once had he acted differently from his wishes, and it had taken a stubborn Scottish beauty to change that for him.
On instinct, he looked around again, this time with more intensity. He was only here because the others had said they would attend, as Lady Edith and Miss Perry had been granted invitations and intended to come. He barely knew the Wintermeres, but he had been repeatedly assured that everyone who was anyone attended if invited, so attending had seemed the thing to do.
Every young lady he saw seemed to be dressed in her very finest, on her very best behavior, and every gentleman was far more attentive than he might have been at another ball in London. Graham couldn’t understand why, as it was the same sort of Society they engaged with at every other event, if not on a daily basis. What made this place and this event better than any other?
The Wintermeres were not nobility, though they had ties to it, and they had wealth, though not the most extensive fortune in London. Yet their ballroom was full to the brim, and more guests were entering every minute.
This was not the sort of event that Graham would enjoy. Too many people, too many expectations. He might spend his time in the gaming room tonight, as well.
After at least one dance, that is.
Just one.
If he could find her.
In this crowd, that might be more difficult than he had previously anticipated.
“I heard a little something about your Scottish beauty, you know.”
Graham jerked and looked at his friend with wide eyes. “What?”
Tyrone chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible liar, my friend, and you hide things even worse.” He looked over at him with a smile. “Your interest in Lady Edith Leveson isn’t exactly a secret.”
“I’m helping to protect her,” Graham reminded him, his pulse racing at an almost panicked pace. “She’s having significant difficulties; you know that.”
“All I said was an interest,” Tyrone said, holding up his hands in surrender, though his smile said a great deal more. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
Graham scowled at the unspoken implication, and at his own reaction to it. That would tell far more than he would wish, if it hadn’t already done so.
“What have you learned, then?” he grumbled, wishing he had taken a drink earlier, as well.
Tyrone moved a step closer to him, sipping his beverage slowly. “A man was seen exiting her house the other day after having spent a considerable amount of time within.”
Graham rolled his eyes. “Sir Reginald calls on her at will, and Henshaw calls on a regular basis. That means nothing.”
“Would I have said anything if it was Henshaw or Sir Reginald?” Tyrone shot back. “This was no mere visit. The man entered before Sir Reginald visited, and was there after he left. I’ve been told he’s a rugged Highlander who comes with his very own kilt.”
Something sharp lanced through Graham’s chest, and his jaw tightened. There were several rumors surrounding Edith at any given time, and there was no guarantee that any could be believed. Why should this one be any more true than any of the others? Yet, if Tyrone was mentioning it, there had to be something in it.
“Who saw the man?” Graham asked in a low voice, fighting for ambivalence.
“Sir Reginald, of course.” Tyrone snorted softly. “He’s making it known that Lady Edith is entertaining a single man alone for an extended period of time. It wouldn’t be condoned if it weren’t for the fact that Lady Edith’s neighbor confirmed the arrival of a dashing kilted warrior.”
Graham felt his teeth grind together, and he only nodded. “She did say she was seeking protection. Perhaps she has found it.”
“So, you wouldn’t care if Lady Edith had taken a lover?”
“Why should I care?” Graham inquired in as mild a tone as he could manage. “She is an independent woman who should take her freedom as and where she may. She has so little of it elsewhere.”
Tyrone hummed under his breath. “Noble sentiment, I am sure. Does it change your intentions?”
Graham turned to face his friend more directly, giving him a hard look. “My intentions,” he ground out, “remain the same as they were before. To help Lady Edith find a way through her present troubles into something better. That is all I have been aiming for.”
“Is it, indeed?” Tyrone murmured. One side of his mouth curved in an almost bemused manner. “Intriguing sort of interest, but to each his own.”
“Dance with Lady Edith tonight,” Graham instructed as his attention moved to a corner of the room where a small group had gathered and was now dispersing into the ballroom. One face in particular caught his attention, and the sight of it sent a boulder dropping into the center of his chest.
Loveliness itself, Edith moved through the other guests with minimal difficulty, her complexion rosy, her smile bright. Her dark hair was curled and twisted into something elegant, ribbons and flowers entwining within the luxurious locks. The color of her dress wasn’t immediately obvious to him, but he didn’t care.