Unforgiven (The Horsemen Trilogy) by Mary Balogh Page A

he look at her with admiration? With scorn? Or with no interest at all?
    “I am sure Sir Edwin will be very pleased indeed,” Lady Hayes said.
    Moira’s eyes widened. Sir Edwin? Yes, of course, Sir Edwin. It was he she had been thinking of. Of course it was he she had meant. Some of her exhilaration disappeared.
    “He has a good heart, Moira,” her mother said. “He means well.”
    “Yes,” Moira said, smiling cheerfully. “I am fully sensible of my good fortune, Mama.”
    Her mother’s smile was rather rueful—and warm with affection.
    *   *   *
    THE ballroom at Dunbarton Hall, though rather small in comparison with some of the grander ballrooms that entertained the
ton
during the Season in London, was nevertheless splendidly decorated with gold leaf and paintings and chandeliers, and its size had been artfully enhanced by a coved ceiling and by huge mirrors along one long wall.
    For the Christmas ball it had been festively decked out with holly and ivy and pine boughs, and with bells and red silk ribbons and bows. An orchestra had been hired at great expense, and the earl’s cook, with extra hired help from Tawmouth, had succeeded in preparing a veritable banquet to fill one anteroom for the whole of the evening and the dining room for supper. Almost everyone who had been invited, neighbors from miles around, had accepted their invitations.
    The ballroom would be filled, Kenneth thought, surveying the empty room while most of the ladies were still abovestairs putting the finishing touches to their toilettes and most of the gentlemen were in the drawing room fortifying themselves for the ordeal ahead with the earl’s brandy or port. He was tempted to join them there. But the orchestra members came upstairs from the kitchen, where they had been eating their dinner, and he spent some time discussing with their leader the evening’s program. And then footmen and maids were bringing up the food and the punch bowls for the anteroom, and he strolled inside to observe the effects of their work. But his presence was not needed. His butler was supervising with cool competence.
    In spite of himself he found that he was looking forward to the evening. It was not every day one had the chance to host a grand ball for one’s family, friends, and neighbors. He was becoming fond of them all. He was beginning to enjoy his position. Life as it had been lived for the past eight years was beginning to recede into memory.
    And then his mother, looking magnificently regal in a purple silk gown with a matching plumed turban, appeared in the ballroom to announce that the first of the guests were approaching along the driveway, and Helen and Ainsleigh were not far behind her with several of the other houseguests. They had come, Kenneth guessed, so that they might be on hand to observe each new arrival. These first guests were early.
    Kenneth took up his position outside the ballroom doors with his mother and waited for the guests to appear on the staircase. They were Sir Edwin Baillie and Moira Hayes. He felt his motherstiffen and wished that they had not been the first to arrive. Later, they might have blended more easily with other guests.
    She was looking quite beautiful, he thought unwillingly. Her peach-colored gown looked stunning with her dark hair and eyes, and she had had the good sense to allow simplicity to state its own case. Most of the ladies already in the ballroom—including Juliana Wishart—seemed almost to be in competition with one another to see who could deck themselves out in the most frills and bows and ruffles and curls and ringlets. Moira Hayes was also quite noticeably—and unashamedly, it seemed—taller than her escort.
    Lady Hayes sent her regrets, Sir Edwin explained after bowing over Lady Haverford’s hand and congratulating himself on being a close neighbor and—dared he be so familiar?—friend of her son. Lady Hayes was too recently out of mourning for the late Sir Basil Hayes to feel easy