He arrived fashionably late to the fete, the majority of the London ton already engaged in full celebratory fanfare. Ivy climbed the front of the Garrison home, and torches lined the short walkway to the front. Rowles walked in, scanning the crowded hall as it echoed with buzzing conversation. Ladies nodded in greeting, their feathered hats swaying with the motion. Gentlemen gave him room as he navigated the hall and then entered the ballroom. Lilacs filled crystal vases on every table, and footmen walked about with silver trays of champagne. Candles twinkled in sconces along the walls, and the scent of beeswax melded perfectly with the lilac, filling the room with a heavenly scent. A string quartet broke into a reel, and Rowles quickly scanned the dancers, looking for a familiar face.

When he didn’t see Joan among the dancers, he turned to survey the rest of the room.

“Interesting seeing you here.” Morgan’s voice interrupted his perusal of the crowd, and Rowles turned to the left to regard his friend.

“Morgan.” Rowles greeted his friend cautiously.

Morgan stood stiffly, as if chaffing at being so near him. “Rowles,” he replied. “What brings you to this evening’s event?”

Rowles hesitated, then answered, “You. I was expecting a visit earlier, and when you didn’t show up, I began to worry for your safety.” He cast his friend a slight grin.

Morgan studied him, and then his lip twitched. “It was a rough day.”

“I’m sure.”

“You have no idea.” Morgan sighed. “And I’d be worried she’d lay into me once again, if she were talking to me, which she isn’t.” His eye twitched. “Odd, that. I usually resent her constant chattering but now that I’m absolved of it, I miss it. I tell you, life is unfair.”

“Of that, we can utterly agree,” Rowles added, then forced the question he needed to ask, knowing it could potentially make matters worse. “I…should call on you tomorrow to discuss something important.”

Morgan blinked, then tipped his head slightly. “Of what nature?” he asked with heavy suspicion.

“Tomorrow,” Rowles stated firmly.

Morgan didn’t relax his stare as he nodded once. “Very well.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m assuming your sister is in attendance tonight?” Rowles scanned the room for her.

When Morgan didn’t answer, Rowles turned to him.

Morgan nodded once. “She’s with her new friend, Miss Bronson. They’ve bonded over their mutual interest in the Foundling Hospital.”

“A worthy endeavor to be sure,” Rowles suggested.

Morgan shrugged.

As if the waters parted, the reel dancers lined up, and through the divided humanity, Rowles caught a glimpse of Joan across the room.

Splendid in a pale-blue dress, her skin peaches and cream. Her lips parted in a perfect O when she caught sight of him, which led to a lovely blush tinting her cheeks.