He should have been bored. Should have been plotting his exit, calculating which scandal to pursue next, considering whether Lady Huntington’s obvious interest was worth the inevitable complications.
Instead, he found his attention drifting across the ballroom with troubling regularity.
To where Miss Penelope Hartwell stood among the matrons, contributing to their discussion with apparent ease whilst her hands remained clasped loosely before her, perfectly still. Too still, perhaps, for someone genuinely at ease.
He watched as she laughed at something Lady Hammond said—a polite, practiced sound that carried no genuine amusement whatsoever. Watched as she glanced toward the entrance, rather concerned.
Waiting for someone, perhaps. Or worried about someone.
That absent friend she had mentioned—the one whose whereabouts seemed to genuinely trouble her.
“Blackmere, are you even listening?”
Waverly’s voice yanked him back to the present. Alastair turned, offering his friend an apologetic smile. “Forgive me. Momentarily distracted.”
“I should say so. You have been staring at the Hartwell chit for the past quarter hour.” Waverly’s grin turned knowing. “Developing an interest in respectable young ladies? How very unlike you.”
“Hardly. Simply… observing.”
“Observing.” Brightmore snorted. “Is that what we are calling it now?”
Before Alastair could formulate a suitably cutting response, movement near the ballroom entrance caught his attention. Penelope was making her way toward the exit, moving withthat same measured grace, her entire demeanour carrying nonchalance.
Leaving early, then. Retreating from the evening’s obligations with the sort of quiet determination that suggested she had endured quite enough society for one night.
He should let her go. Should return his attention to his companions, to the evening’s remaining entertainments, to the familiar comfort of scandal and spectacle.
Instead, he found himself tracking her progress through the crowd, watching as she collected her wrap from a servant, as she exchanged brief words with the hostess, as she moved toward the door with clear intent to escape.
“Blackmere?”
“Excuse me,” he murmured, already moving. “I believe I see someone requiring my attention.”
He did not pursue her—that would be improper, obvious, entirely too revealing. But he did position himself near enough to the entrance to observe her departure, to note the slight slump of her shoulders once she thought herself unobserved, the way her careful composure fractured just slightly when she believed no one was watching.
Interesting.
Far more interesting than she wanted anyone to know.
He was still contemplating this observation—and what, if anything, he intended to do about it—when William appeared at his elbow.
“Alastair.” His friend clapped him on the shoulder with the sort of easy affection that came from years of friendship. “I am glad I caught you before you departed. Caroline wishes me to extend an invitation for tomorrow evening. Dinner at our townhouse. Nothing elaborate, just family and a few close friends.”
Alastair’s attention sharpened. “Tomorrow evening?”
“Indeed. Caroline’s sister will be attending—Miss Hartwell, I believe you are acquainted?” William’s expression remained perfectly innocent, but something in his tone suggested he was enjoying this rather more than the situation warranted.
“Caroline thought it would be pleasant to have a small gathering. You know how she worries about Penelope spending too much time in quiet contemplation.”
Of course. Because apparently the universe had decided that one encounter with Miss Penelope Hartwell this evening was insufficient torment.
“How delightful,” Alastair said with perfect blandness. “I shall be honoured to attend.”
“Excellent. I shall inform Caroline.” William studied him with amusement that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. “Though I must warn you, Penelope has specifically requested that the seating arrangement place her as far from you as possible. Something about preferring civilised conversation, I believe.”
“How very flattering.”
“I thought you would appreciate it.” William’s grin widened. “Do try not to scandalise her too severely. Caroline grows rather protective of her youngest sister.”