Page 13 of My Fair Lord

Florence accepted it gratefully and took a sip before the bubbles had even subsided. It was sharp and cold, the sensation momentarily managing to level her heightened mood.

“As it happens, I am a waiter tonight, and I am here on behalf of another woman,” Blake said.

“Oh.”

Florence sipped the champagne again. She shouldn’t be disappointed. There was no reason at all for his business to be any concern of hers. Nevertheless, she did feel a ripple of disappointment.

He gave her a discreet smile and leaned in. “That is, I am here on behalf of a father who is interested in what his daughter is doing and who she’s doing it with. This is what I do, you see. People pay me to sort out their difficulties.”

“Oh,” Florence repeated. She stepped towards him, immensely intrigued by what he was saying.

“It isn’t me, is it?”

He laughed then gave her a measured look. “Should your father be concerned about what you are getting up to?”

“Not at all,” she said, ignoring the fact that the day before, she had been racing through the streets of the city with this intriguing man and her father probably should be very concerned. “Though he is determined to find me a husband so I’m sure he’d like to know if I have any preferences yet.”

“Do you?” Blake asked. He gave a discreet cough. “Pardon me, that is absolutely none of my business.”

“No, it isn’t,” Florence agreed. She gave a slight sigh. “Though I don’t. Now tell me, what are you doing now concerning this young lady?”

“I am watching who she dances with and how many times she dances with a particular gentleman. Whether she takes his arm to go dine. How many glasses of champagne she has had. Any other pertinent facts that her father should be concerned about.”

“So you are a spy,” Florence breathed.

He looked slightly taken aback.

“Yes, I suppose tonight I am. Very insightful of you. Would you care for another glass of champagne, Miss Wakechild? Or perhaps some fruit punch or iced water?” He indicated her empty glass. She hadn’t even been aware of finishing it.

“More champagne, please. It’s so hot in here. My sister told me that England did have some nice weather occasionally, but I didn’t believe her. I think I’d have worn a completely different dress if I had.”

Mr Blake looked her up and down. He did it discreetly but she felt his gaze roving over her. It was the fanciest piece she owned and most definitely did deserve the description of gown rather than a dress or a frock. She’d chosen the green specially to match her hair and she knew that she looked impressively eye-catching. That was the idea, of course, she reminded herself a little guiltily. To catch the eye of an earl or a duke, not to spend her time gossiping with a waiter and risking rumours. She moved slightly around so that she was standing beside him and not obviously conversing.

“Who is the young lady?” she asked.

Blake dipped his head slightly. “That one with the pale pink dress and an array of rosebuds in her hair.”

Florence glanced at the woman he was describing. She looked about eighteen and was very pretty with delicate features and corn-blonde hair. Her dress was a gorgeous affair of lace over satin. There were three young men clearly vying for her attention and she was smiling at each in turn.

“They all appear to have champagne,” Florence commented. “Which is the man she is supposed to marry or to avoid?”

“Her father wants to her to marry the stout fellow with the Van Dyke beard. Rumour has it she prefers young Mr Thorntree. What do you think?”

Florence walked around to his other side and selected a small, iced biscuit from the table. She’d been closer to him when she was in his arms but now she was more aware of his presence. She inhaled and caught a scent that was slightly peppery. She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were on her rather than on the young woman he should be evaluating and that gave her a small frisson of delight.

“From here it’s hard to say. Would you like my assistance again?”

Blake tilted his head down.

“What do you have in mind?”

She glanced at the glass in her hand. “Without appearing too indelicate, your young quarry has been drinking quite a lot of champagne. At some point I’m sure she’ll have to make use of the powder room. I’ll go in and make her acquaintance if I can. She’s more likely to open up to another woman than to a waiter. After all, you can hardly go up to her and say ‘Good evening, Miss Eyelashes, would you have some more champagne? Oh, and while you are here, do you plan to elope with any of the gentleman?’ Can you?”

Blake snorted then covered it with a sneeze, causing Florence to giggle.

“That’s very true. Miss Eyelashes though?”

“Haven’t you noticed how fine they are? And by fine, I mean admirable of course rather than thin. Which they really aren’t. I can see them fluttering from over here. Haven’t you noticed?”