London, September 2, 1805

Cordelia's stomach sank at the sight of her cousin prowling through the crush. His younger brother and sister as well as his insufferable mother were likely close by. They were supposed to be in Bath until the start of the London season.
Curse those Other Rowleys.
A hand seized her arm and startled her. "The Other Rowleys are here," Amelia warned in hushed tones.
"I have my eye on Andrew. Let us hope the assembly room is too crowded for him to find me tonight."
Andrew Rowley sauntered through the throng of London elites, his movements languid, feline — a dangerous jungle cat in search of prey.
And there was plenty willing prey at the ball tonight.
His rakish grin sent fans fluttering and eyelashes batting wherever he directed it.
"We could hide in the card room?" Amelia suggested. "Or in the ladies drawing room?"
"No." Cordelia straightened. "Grandfather would hate to know Andrew Rowley sent us into a full retreat. We must find friends of ours in circles so far above his he would dare not approach."
Cordelia clasped Amelia by the hand and pulled her through the crowd. They joined the flood of couples leaving the dance floor as the set ended, but dread fluttered Cordelia's pulse. She didn't have a partner for the next set, and her cousin was no doubt searching for her.
To her dismay, every face within reach was a stranger and a glance over her shoulder confirmed the worst. Andrew locked his gaze with hers. Cordelia pretended not to notice and instead searched the crowd for a friend to save her — or anyone for that matter.

...

Curse Lord Keir Fraser for dragging me to a London ball and deserting me. "Hardly worth the guineas for the ticket," Lachlan Shawe muttered to himself.
He tugged the stiff collar of his officer's blue frock coat. The promotion to Commander had come at just the right time. With nearly everything he earned tied up in repairs to Dunloch castle, he never would have set foot in the assembly rooms if Keir hadn't paid for his ticket.
His sister, Lara, would be livid if she knew he'd attended a ball. She had begged him mercilessly for a debut in London, but there was no way to do a proper season without a small fortune. Furthermore, it would be a long time before he even considered allowing Lara to have a season after their disastrous stay in Bath.
The set ended and Lord Fraser escorted his beautiful companion back to her chaperone. Several eligible ladies positioned themselves in his path with the hope of capturing his eye and a partner for the next set.
Lord Fraser headed straight for Lachlan to every matchmaking mama's dismay. "Are you going to spend the whole night sulking? The assembly room seems short on men tonight"
"There's a war on, Keir," Lachlan replied. "And no one wants to dance with a penniless Scott."
"You over exaggerate, but you'd be surprised what society sins a well-bred lady will forgive for the chance at a title." Keir laughed and a smile twitched on Lachlan's lips against his will. "I know your heart is spoken for but, please," he clasped his hands together beseechingly, "ask a wallflower to dance and you won't even have to make conversation. You're drawing too much attention." He then lowered his voice. "I'm here in a professional capacity."
Lachlan's brows rose. "What about dancing with debutantes is work?"
"Ach!" Keir exclaimed, letting his Highland roots show. "I just need you to look amenable. I'm waiting for someone to make contact with information and I don't want your scowl scaring them away."
"What makes you sure my dancing won't scare them away?" Lachlan folded his arms across his chest.
"Because I know how many hearts in Dunborough you broke when you set your cap at Maria Mowbray."
Maria. Just her name made his heart ache. She had assured him that she would wait for him while he is in the Navy. The future of his estate rested on its Laird taking French vessels to earn enough money to save the crumbling estate. A naval commission wasn't fashionable, but the rewards to be had were great.
"Fine," Lachlan grunted, turning the conversation away from Maria. "For your sake—" He surveyed the room in search of a quiet girl whom the ton had overlooked, but his words caught in his throat. A beautiful woman emerged from the crowd. It wasn't her crimson ringlets, the treasury of jewels adorning her, or the glittering sage gown she wore. It was her light blue eyes that drew his attention to her — and the look of panic in them.
He stepped into the woman's path. "Pardon me, but is something the matter? You appeared upset—"
"Ask me to dance." It was more of a command than a request and it certainly wasn't the type of behavior Lachlan had expected to find among the ton.
"D-dance?" Lachlan stuttered. "I believe we are strangers. Would that not compromise your reputation?"
"You asked if I needed aid, and the aid I need is a partner for the next set."
The brown-haired woman beside her mirrored Lachlan's discomfort.
"But I am no one of consequence or fortune..." he started, but she fixed him with a look of playful scolding in her blue eyes and his protestations felt suddenly irrelevant. Why am I objecting again?
The red-haired woman drew nearer. "Do you see that man over there? He is a notorious rake and he stalks this way with the intention of asking me to dance and I am not in a position to refuse him."
Lachlan followed her gaze and spotted a familiar face in the crowd and the most notorious rake in his acquaintance. The sight of Andrew Rowley made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.
"I would rather risk my reputation with you," she continued, "someone of little consequence, than with a man who creates rumors and speculation wherever he goes."
Lachlan grinned. "I would gladly offer to stand up with you to escape that gentleman."
He took her by the arm to lead her towards the dance floor when Andrew Rowley emerged from the crush. Clearly intent on claiming his prey, Andrew started towards them but when he got a better look at Lachlan, he blanched and scurried back into the crowd.

...

With a hand on the arm of her rescuer, Cordelia threw a concerned looked at Amelia.
"I'll be fine," Amelia said. "My next set is spoken for." She smiled, but a wistfulness flickered across her face when she glanced at the officer.
Amelia hurried away and Cordelia turned to her partner. Another peek at his profile made her sympathize with Amelia's wistful look. Cordelia would have accepted any gentleman besides Andrew but she hadn't expected to find someone quite so handsome whose next dance wasn't already spoken for. His nose was elegantly angled, but not perfectly straight, his golden hair neat and tidy, his chin and jaw sharply angled. His Scottish Burr and shockingly blue eyes had been the biggest surprise. For his sake, it was a pity he was so poorly connected. But I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at a gentleman if he didn't have a fortune. Indeed, her generous dowery would be enough to support a match with anyone.
Cordelia shook her head to clear the logistics of marrying a complete stranger from her mind. It would take more than a handsome face to make her entertain the idea of matrimony. No, he would have to prove himself a man of character, capable of stirring her heart, to win her hand.
They took their place at the bottom of the set. "It looks like it will be a long time before it's our turn to dance so I suppose we should be introduced while we wait. I am Lady Cordelia Rowley. You may call me Lady Cordelia."
"Lachlan Shawe. Lieutenant, sorry, Commander Shawe," he corrected.
"A new promotion, I presume?"
He grinned, a lighthearted thing, and playfully tugged his collar. "I've just been assigned to crew an unrated brig sloop. The HMS Corvus will make her maiden voyage in three days."
Cordelia nodded and committed the name of his ship to memory.
Lachlan paused as he seemed to puzzle out something. "You said your name was Rowley? Any relation to the Rowley you were trying to escape?"
"Unfortunately. He's a distant cousin."
"Not distant enough for your liking?"
Cordelia bit down on her lips to stifle a laugh. "Precisely," she said brightly once she had regained her composure.
"Forgive me, but why aren't you in a position to refuse him?"
The smile died on her lips. Does he think Andrew holds a sordid secret over me? And how much was he aware of Andrew's reputation?
"Nothing so terrible as you may suspect. I don't have a partner for the next set and if I gave my cousin the cut I'm sure his retribution would be swift and merciless. He has always taken a particular pleasure in tormenting me."
"How terrible. I am aware of that snake-tongued scoundrel and his proclivity for retribution in the form of vicious falsehoods."
The music began and the dancers at the top of the set began their figures. Cordelia found herself eager to see what kind of dance partner the dashing commander would make. Does his height mean he will be stiff and awkward or does his willowy frame signify that he is a graceful dancer? He certainly had mastered the art of ballroom conversation.
"Yes, he has already spread rumors of a match between us in an attempt to ruin my first season. A dance together would surely give credit to those falsehoods."
Lachlan's brow furrowed deep enough for a line to form between them. "He desires a match with you?"
Cordelia's stomach churned at the thought. "I am not sure of his motives. He wouldn't object to a match if I were willing. My mother and father didn't live long enough to produce a male heir, so he is set to inherit the Glenfall estate and all its fortunes when my grandfather passes away — so long as I don't produce an heir. If he doesn't want to marry me, then I'm certain he desires me to remain unwed. I rather believe he would prefer not to marry as he sees women as mere divertissements."
"Yes, I am well familiar with your cousin's way with women. I would call him on his honor if I didn't already know he was a coward who wouldn't show."
"You have called him out before?"
"I made his unfortunate acquaintance in Bath this summer where he very nearly ruined the reputation of my younger sister, Lara."
Cordelia's cheeks heated in anger. I hate to guess how many young women Andrew has ruined for his own amusement. "You needn't say more," she said for the sake of Lieutenant Shares pride.
"But I must on behalf of my sister's reputation. We were staying in Bath for the summer where I hoped to find a suitable match for Lara: a man engaged in a respectable trade or from a merchant's family. I at least hoped to her find work as a ladies companion before I left on my commission. The week before we were due to leave Bath, I discovered he'd begun a secret correspondence with her."
Cordelia held her breath as she hung on his every word.
"She's only sixteen, never been out in society before, and he preyed on her innocence. When I discovered the letters I learned he even offered her an elopement to lure her away from me. She at least had the sense to be wary of wedding a man without my permission."
Cordelia let out a sigh of relief. "It's a blessing she has good instincts even if she is naive of the ways of men. I'm sure it would have been a sham of a wedding anyway."
"That was my suspicion. I, as you know, called him out, but he didn't show. I see now that he tucked tail and scuttled back to hide in the gutters of London."
Cordelia shook her head and made a noise of disgust. "I don't want to know how many fathers and brothers have shared your situation. Where is your sister now?"
Lachlan ran a hand through his neat hair and sighed. The gesture disturbed a stray blond lock which flopped onto his forehead. "Ach. I put her on a coach straight to a school for girls in Edinburgh. If I can't make enough money to give her a decent dowery, she will make a fine governess one day. That is if she can keep her mind off of balls and romance and those novels she reads all the time."
Cordelia grinned at the thought of her own reading habits. "She is only two years younger than I: she sounds like someone I'd like to be friends with."
Lachlan's face lit up at the sentiment, but the look was quickly replaced with concern. Shouts sounded over the orchestra and the couples performing then country dance steps at the center of the line slowed to a stop.
The poor dancing master looked fit to collapse as he tried to call out the figures for the couple, but no one was listening.
A dark haired gentleman approached Lachlan. "French and Spanish vessels are gathering at Cadiz. The word is Napoleon plans to amass a fleet there to mount his invasion of England."
Fear seized Cordelia by the chest. She closed the distance between herself and Lachlan. "Are we really to be invaded?" Without a second thought, she placed a hand on his arm to steady herself.
He looked at her with startling fire in his blue eyes. A warrior on the eve of battle. He took her gloved hand in his. "No. No. He doesn't stand a chance if I have anything to say about it."
"Your time on half-pay has come to an end. You had best get yourself to Portsmouth," his companion said. "All ships should be ready to leave with the morning tide."
"I'll pack my things and leave tonight," Lachlan answered then turned back to Cordelia. His hand tightened around hers. "My apologies, Lady Cordelia. I must go back on my word and rescind my offer of aid."
She smiled, but it did little to settle her nerves. "I understand, but it is a shame that we shall not get to dance. I would like to have this disruption added to the list of Napoleon's crimes."
"A most grievous offense: I shall punish him thoroughly for it. In the meantime, it appears my friend, Lord Fraser, is without a partner."
Cordelia glanced around the assembly rooms. It appeared the news of an impending invasion had spread through the entire gathering. "I think the evening's entertainments have come to an abrupt end, which is no matter. It is late, and my grandfather is likely eager to return home."
"Lach, take her to call for her carriage. I'll fetch your grandfather if you give me his name."
"The Duke of Glenfall," Cordelia answered.
Lord Fraser's brows raised almost imperceptibly and he gave her a curt nod. "I'm not an acquaintance, but I'm sure I would recognize him." He disappeared into the crowd and Lachlan tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
They joined the stream of people headed for the doors where Lachlan flagged a footman and requested the Duke of Glenfall's carriage to be brought round. There was a mad jumble of horses and coaches in the street as what felt like all of London Society attempted to find their means of transportation home.
"Lady Cordelia!" someone shouted from the chaos and Cordelia spotted their coachman waving to her from a short ways down the street.
"There!" she exclaimed.
Lachlan escorted her through the crush, all the way to her carriage. He opened the door for her and they both stifled a laugh. Grandfather had evidently called for the carriage and fallen asleep while he waited for the ball to end.
"My vigilant chaperone," Cordelia whispered.
Lachlan chuckled and offered to hand her in with an open palm. Cordelia obliged, but paused on the step. She turned to Lachlan, overcome with concern. Would she ever see him again? What sort of battle was approaching? And if he survived, what condition would he return in? Her stomach fluttered, but before she could crush the urge, she leaned in and brushed a feather of a kiss to the sailor's cheek.
She pulled back and tried not to let the look of shock on Lachlan's face unsettle her nerve. "My thanks to you for coming to my rescue, for protecting England, and to wish you good luck," she explained as she took the seat opposite her grandfather.
"I shall also pray for your safety, Commander Shawe," she added. "I believe that will serve you even better than luck."
Lachlan looked pleasantly surprised and his lips lifted into a half smile. "I believe it will. Thank you, Lady Cordelia."
He closed the door and the carriage lurched into motion.
The Duke of Glenfall startled awake mid-snore. "A pleasant evening, my dear? You looked flushed."
Cordelia pressed a hand to her cheek and the cool silk soothed the heat. "An interesting evening."
That was all the talk of ball grandfather desired. He let his head fall back against the side of the carriage and his eyes fluttered closed.
The further they got from the assembly rooms, the more Cordelia's stomach refused to settle. It wasn't due to the movement of the carriage or the threat of a French invasion. What on earth possessed me to kiss that man?
She shook her head groaned. "What's come over me?" Never, in her entire life, had she done anything so bold. At least the chances of running into him again are small. The thought was less comforting than she wanted it to be.
When they reached the townhouse, she would add his name to the list on the inside cover of her bible as a reminder to pray for him.
Pray for him, she would, and if it was the Lord's will that they would meet again, well, she would have to trust Him to make a way.