A sudden cold snap a fortnight into the season made the evenings more frigid and blustery than the coldest winter night. That couldn't keep any of the le Bon Ton indoors, though. After several long months in the country, they were all eager to be back in the bustling, close quarters of the city. They were prisoners tasting freedom again! Caged birds set free once more! That freedom may taste like icy soot, but no one minded. Young people flocked to anywhere with music and dancing, and a chance to see and be seen.

Lady Evelyn was attending her second ball of the week, making it her fourth of this Season. What a strange, but wonderful world she was in. Soaring grey structures blotted out the grey sky above, yet new scaffolds rose every day. Beneath these behemoths were vehicles and countless bodies of every sort, all converging on the muddy streets.

And then there was the stench!

That awful thick stench hung like a thick canopy and smothered everything. Yet she longed to explore the city's mysteries. She longed to discover what was behind the clamouring. She wanted to know what laid down each avenue and boulevard.

Was she out there? Evelyn had to wonder in the dark recess of her mind.

But, instead of seeking that answer, Evelyn must adhere to customs and go where she was told. The only explorations she made were to more ballrooms and drawing rooms where dazzling beauty astonished the senses. As she made her way through a crush of bodies in a crowded gallery, she felt a familiar chill despite the heat. She had been warned that this lot was suspicious of foreigners. Here now, in the packed, noisy ballroom, ablaze with enormous and countless girandoles, she was once more on display. Once again, she felt dozens of stony stares evaluating her from the top of her head to her slippered feet. What did they think of her when she glided across the chalk arabesques on the dance floor with her current dance partner?

Her current dance partner was the Honourable Henry Wilkes. Handsome young man. Pleasant enough. Yet, the way he dressed, spoke, and carried himself was in the same imperious manner as the rest. Perhaps it was his expressionless eyes, or maybe it was the way his sweet words always sounded so stilted that made Evelyn wary of him.

"You seem preoccupied, my lady," Henry said. "I do hope I haven't been a bore."She didn't think he noticed her disinterest, as he had prattled on and on about his stable of fine horses. "I beg your pardon, sir. I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. There are so many smart people here."

"Do you fear them, my lady?"

"Not particularly. It's difficult to be amongst strangers."

"Then, you must allow me to help you find your way amongst them," he replied in an imperious tone.

"Oh, but I could not impose."

Young Henry's toothy smile did not reach his hooded eyes. "I assure you, you are not. We may all seem the same to you, but some of us are more 'in' than others. And I am just the man on the periphery to bridge the gap for you. I see you doubt me. I assure you if I told you what I know of those around us, they'll seem far less intimidating."

"But they would not care for you to share their secrets with me," she said.

"One thing you need to learn, my dear Lady Evelyn, is that society feeds on gossip." Unphased by her troubled look, Henry nodded at a tall, beautiful lady in the crowd. Her regal cat-like eyes scanned the room with a look of boredom.

"Don't let Lady Ann Seymour's cool exterior fool you. Rumour has it that her husband perished under mysterious circumstances when he got drunk and passionate one time too many. They say she carries a long stiletto somewhere on her person should anyone cross her. Beside her are two noble ladies with lofty titles and even greater debts. They're here now as they've left their last farthing at the card table. Those jewels they wear? Paste, I assure you. And there, across the room, that splendid creature is the new Lady St. James."

"Is she too full of vice?"

"It would be ungallant for me to assume so, but naïve to believe otherwise. She hasn't been married long but her husband - well, perhaps I've shocked you enough for one evening."

Evelyn's unease grew as Henry's expression turned wolfish. Vile creature! She decided she'd rather be friendless than suffer the company of this gossipmonger. But how to extract herself without causing offence?

And then...

The air shifted.

A cracking current rippled through the din around her like a breeze before an oncoming storm. Others must have felt it, too, for they all turned their attention towards the crowded entryway. What was it? Who were they all craning to look at?

It took several more turns before Evelyn could see through the sea of whirling bodies. Two very tall, smart-dressed gentlemen were speaking to Lady Warwick. She recognised Mr Philip Mallory, who she met once or twice in passing. It was impossible that mild-manner Mr Mallory would elicit such interest.

No. This distraction was caused by Mr Mallory's towering, black-haired companion. Even with his back to her, there was no hiding his well-formed, noble carriage. As the dance took several turns, she had to crane back for another glimpse. Mr Mallory and his friend were still speaking to Lady Warwick, who gaped up at the tall, dark-haired man with her mouth open like a giant carp. In fact, awe was universally reflected on the mien of everyone who looked upon him. He must be someone of great importance indeed!

Henry, oblivious to Evelyn's distraction, was still prattling on. Then, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a very familiar figure. That shadowy shape, well-hidden behind several drunken bodies, gestured to her ever so slightly.

Evelyn eased away from Henry with a contrite look. "You've been so kind, sir. But I've monopolised your time long enough."

At last, Henry noted her disinterest. He smiled stiffly and went off to find more receptive company.

Relieved, Evelyn sought a vacant seat against a far wall. Her ears rang with tittering laughter, endless chatter as it blended into the music. A kaleidoscope of colours whirled around her. The heat of the room, the wine, the sweet scents of expensive soaps and perfumes all mingled made her head swim. She cast a glance in the shadows of the outer gallery. Not yet. Mustn't call attention to herself. A moment later her gaze returned to the tall, handsome stranger again. He still had his back to her, but there was something about his carriage that drew her.

"Stop gawking at him," she chided herself. At present, there was a far more pressing concern.

************************************

Lady Warwick flushed and giggled like a schoolgirl when Lord Davenport bowed over her hand. She had to lean back to take in his towering good looks. Such a handsome face! Such broad shoulders! This was the first time he deigned to notice her, and she salivated at the attention. But after an initial curt greeting, he paid her no more attention. Lady Warwick only had to remember Lord Davenport's immense wealth to decide she could forgive him for his rudeness.

Philip couldn't very well do the same as his cousin, so he felt obliged to make polite conversation. "Lord Warwick will not join us tonight?"

The stout woman bedecked in jewels wedged herself between the cousins. "No, Mr Mallory, my husband will not join us. Lord Mallory's dancing days are far behind him." She turned her adoring gaze back to Lord Davenport again. "My lord, will you not dance?"

Philip pressed on. "And how is your young- niece, Lady Evelyn, enjoying society? Is she here this evening?"

Beside him, Lord Davenport winced at Philip's wistful tone.

Lady Warwick tittered and waved a hand. "Why Mr Mallory, you ought to ask her yourself." Please do, she thought, but do leave Lord Davenport by her side. Even if he said nothing at all, just to stand with him was enough to elevate her.

"She's well occupied," Philip replied when he glimpsed her with Henry Wilkes.

"Quite," Lady Warwick grumbled. "I'm most pleased to see that I've had some influence on her. When she first came to us, the poor thing cowered whenever anyone spoke to her. I've tried to instruct her on proper decorums. But, alas, there's still much work--"

Philip felt defensive. "I've always found her to be most correct."

A corner of Lord Davenport's lips tugged upwards as he produced a fresh cigar and held it up, unlit. "You give too much allowance to a pretty face."

"How right you are!" Lady Warwick agreed. "Her guardian, whoever he may be, was quite remiss in her schooling."

Lord Davenport flicked his sharp gaze towards Lady Warwick in an instant. "You are not acquainted with her guardian?"

Realising her mistake too late, Lady Warwick's voice warbled. "I mean-- she's my husband's niece or cousin by marriage. His first marriage, that is. An orphan, raised abroad to account for her strange ways. She has no one but us, the poor dear, and no income to speak of. Some other relatives had her guardianship until my Lord Warwick stepped in. A bit late, perhaps. We both felt she ought to have every advantage despite her upbringing. You know how generous my Lord Warwick can be. But, of course, her upkeep shan't be a hardship to us, you know."

The cousins exchanged a look. They were saved when some old friends descended upon them with amusing antidotes. Lady Warwick found herself shouldered out of the way.

After a while, Lord Davenport turned away to light a cigar. He took that opportunity to look over at the one they were there to observe as she concluded the dance. His eyes followed her as she found a seat in some remote corner.

Philip leaned over to ask, "What do you think?"

"Pretty," Lord Davenport allowed. But his impassive tone did not match the intensity of his gaze as he watched her.

At first glance, Lady Evelyn was lovely enough to be notable even amongst this bevvy of extraordinary beauties. Amongst a sea of affected young ladies in rich silks, lace and jewels, she stood out even more for her simplicity. She wore some flowers in her glossy dark hair. Her only ornament was a simple gold pendant dangling from her long, slender neck. Yet she couldn't have looked more regal. Then, there was her face - At that moment, nothing felt more urgent to him than to see more of her large, sparkling eyes.

When he realised he was staring, he turned away to blow smoke out a corner of his mouth. Two beats later, his gaze found her again as she rose to her feet. It seems to him her movements were indicative of one who wished to avoid attention. She kept her eyes on the dancers, even as she backed away from the crowd before she slipped behind a column and disappeared. In her haste, she was unaware that her fan slipped from her lap when she first stood up. How curious!

Lord Davenport excused himself from his companions. With subtle gestures, he dissuaded others from approaching. He kept to the edge of the blazing ballroom with a view of the darker, quieter surrounding gallery. Those soaring archways in the darkened gallery were perfect spots for clandestine liaisons. Thus, he wasn't in the least bit surprised to recognise that shapely silhouette with a male figure.

Was this disappointment he felt? Must be disappointment for poor Philip, surely. If the young lady was in the habit of skulking with men in dark corners of a public place, with no regard to her reputation, she was not fit for gentle Philip.

Lord Davenport found a wide column to lean against. It gave him the perfect cover to observe the two hidden figures while he appeared to be watching the dancers.

Evelyn's companion was a young man of medium height and athletic build. More than anything, Lord Davenport noted the ease between the two. The young man was pleading with her with raised, cupped hands. She was shaking her head, no. Her gestures appeared determined while the man tried to reassure her. Then, he seemed to realise the precariousness of their assignation and made to leave. Lord Davenport felt let down at not being afforded a better look at the man. Lucky for him, Evelyn reached for her companion's arm and forced his face to turn to look back at her.

"Percy Elwood?" The name coughed up from Lord Davenport's lungs in surprise.

It can't be. Elwood had long been banished to the Continent for- wasn't it some clandestine tryst similar to this one? What sort of wicked tart was this Lady Evelyn that she risked her reputation with a man who bore even a passing resemblance to the likes of Percy Elwood? No matter. Such a woman must never become entangled with his poor naïve cousin!

"My Lord, there you are! We thought we lost you."

"If only." His lordship could not conceal his irritation at the sight of Lady Warwick as she rushed to him. Behind him, he felt the shadowy figures freeze, then melt away into the darkness. Lady Warwick was prattling on and on until, without a word, Lord Davenport turned and walked away. He could still hear her voice calling after him. Something about tea, but he wasn't listening. His singular focus was to reach the spot where Lady Evelyn's fan fell. That little ivory and silk piece was still there, kicked under a chair. He picked it up and deftly pocketed it.