Chapter Sixteen
Colonel and Lady Middleton’s ball was well under way when Nicholas arrived. He gave his hat to a footman and climbed the stairs to the ballroom. It reminded him of Gussie’s ball, two weeks ago: the hubbub of music and laughter and conversation, the mingled scents of perfume and perspiration, the almost-suffocating warmth.
But tonight there would be no sly laughter, no sideways glances, no whispers. I am passé. London has moved on.
Nicholas accepted champagne from a servant. He sipped it as he strolled around the perimeter of the ballroom, nodding to acquaintances, pausing to talk with friends, all the while scanning the room for a glimpse of wheat-gold hair. The ballroom was colorful with the dress uniforms of various regiments: the blue, scarlet, and gold of the Royal H
