The duchess herself puzzled over the situation throughout a country dance with Sir Walter. Finally she decided to let events take their course and say nothing to Charlotte about the future earl or his brother. She and Charlotte and Violetta were going to Almack’s tomorrow night and those men almost certainly wouldn’t show up there; they were too young to be hanging out for wives, and Almack’s was nothing but a marriage mart, she thought dispassionately. But in four days the Prince of Wales was giving a ball that all the ton would attend. The Foakes brothers might come late, she thought, given their appearance tonight, but she’d keep Charlotte there till dawn if she had to. And so, having worked the whole problem out to her satisfaction, she dismissed it from her mind and turned back to her partner.

But that wasn’t the last she saw of Alexander and Patrick that evening: no, not by any means. Around an hour later, Adelaide found herself confronted by her husband’s aunt Margaret, a fierce woman in her eighties. Margaret accepted without comment the news that Charlotte had retired for the night and could not bid her good-bye, but she demanded to see her nephew. So Adelaide began weaving through the people left in the ballroom, looking for her husband. The ballroom itself was finally clearing out, but people were still crowding the hallways and reception rooms.

At the end of the first-floor hallway, to the right of the huge marble staircase, was the chamber they called the Green Room. It had a huge, old grand piano that had been deemed too much trouble to remove. Adelaide did not find Marcel there, but she did find the two sons of the Earl of Sheffield and Downes.

As she paused in the doorway she heard a strong, sweet voice raised in song. One of the twins was seated at the piano, with his back to her, singing in a beautiful baritone. For a moment she paused in pleasure. Young women were forced to take piano and voice lessons as part of the accoutrements of young ladyhood; it was rare to meet a gentleman with the same skills. And he did have a superb voice.

His brother was leaning negligently against a pillar off to the right. The singer himself was surrounded by a pale, fluttering group of debutantes who had somehow shaken off their chaperones, Adelaide thought, her eyes sharpening a bit. Of course—the chaperones must have gone off to the marquee for a bite to eat, and the young women had gathered here. Not proper, she thought firmly.

Suddenly the little flock of three maidens convulsed into soft gales of laughter, but the male voice continued. And for the first time Adelaide actually heard what he was singing: