Alex paced back and forth near the refreshment table. She wore a stunning fire-colored gown that she’d just recently purchased from Madame Bergeron, her mother’s favorite modiste on Bond Street. The gown was so gorgeous that Lavinia had pouted when she saw Alex in the foyer before they made their way outside to the coach. Mother had had to assure Lavinia that she, too, looked ravishing in her own ice-blue gown. Thomas had gone back to school, and so Alex was alone with her parents and sister. Again. She searched the ballroom, looking for any signs of her friends. Finally, she saw Lord Berkeley standing head and shoulders above most of the other gentlemen. Thank goodness. She’d been a bit worried that he wouldn’t appear tonight, and where would it leave her? Lord Berkeley spotted her, nodded, and made his way through the crush to her side. “My lady,” he said with a bow. “My lord,” she replied, curtsying and sharing his smile. “I have it on the best authority—namely from Lucy—that Owen Monroe has just entered the ballroom.
