Page 3 of The Notorious Lord Sin
But no matter. He should not dwell on the past and what was lost to the pages of time. He needed to look forward to who would be his wife, and sooner rather than later since he did not know how to economize as well as he should have.
* * *
Later that evening, Dominic entered the Romney ballroom with Lord Lupton-Gage, his oldest friend since Eton. His wife, the marchioness, was home, preferring to stay with their small son and daughter for the evening.
"Thank you for coming with me, Gage. I admit that it has been many years since I stepped foot into an English ballroom. I'm very out of practice."
Gage laughed, tapping him on the back. "You will find your bearings, and there are many delightful young debutantes here this year who would make a suitable bride and future viscountess."
Dominic nodded and glanced about the room, noting the few interested coy gazes from several ladies. He nodded and smiled, as a gentleman would, but his heart wasn't in it. There was something off about what he was doing.
Even if he had voiced such a stance toward Miss Smith all those years ago of marrying an heiress, he had yet to follow through on his stipulation. He had instead traveled abroad and tried to increase his fortune before failing miserably at that as well.
Lord Lupton-Gage cleared his throat and glanced at him, an amused grin on his lips. "Prepare yourself, Astoridge. You're about to see a ghost."
Dominic frowned at his friend, and then he felt it, the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. He looked toward the doors, and time stood still.
No, that was not entirely true. It reversed, rushed back five years, and left him as besotted as the day he had first seen her across a ballroom floor.
Miss Paris Smith, the strawberry-blonde commoner from Grafton, was anything but what he had left, heartbroken and bereft in Romney's library five years before.
Oh no. The woman who walked into the room, bussing the cheeks of the Duchess of Romney, her laughter ringing out and capturing anyone who watched, himself included, was no shy mouse.
Not a timid miss who had coveted him only for him to break her heart. Who had trusted him with her innocence only for him to dismiss her as unworthy.
He could not tear his gaze from her as she made her way through the throng of guests. She stopped before the Duke and Duchess of Derby and spoke to them, accepting a glass of wine from a passing footman.
For all her finery, the wealth that glowed from every diamond and silk stitch that she wore, she was still the same beneath it all. Her smile was as genuine, her speech engaging. No falsehood about her, not that there ever was.
What a fool he had been, not to mention an utter ass.
Paris reveled at being back in London. The past year of mourning had been hard for her, but mostly for her daughter and son, who missed their father terribly.
Lord Hervey had been a good man. He had loved her even though she knew at times she did not deserve his affection, but it was time that she returned to London to start to pave the way forward for her children when it was time for them to enter society.
She joined her close friend, Millie, now the Duchess of Romney, and settled beside her, more than happy for this evening to regain her bearings in society and see what everyone was about, but not take part too much.
"I'm so pleased you're here. How are Lady Maya and little Lord Hervey?" Millie asked her, always interested in her family and her happiness.
"All are thriving, and Oliver has assured me he will know all the kings and queens of England upon my return." She laughed at her son's fascination with all things royal and the history of this great land.
"How wonderful. I'm certain he will know all as promised." The duchess watched her a moment, and Paris frowned at the concern she read on her friend's face.
"What is it, Millie? You only look like you do when there is something bothering you, and you're too scared to tell me."
Millie threw her a small smile, taking her hand in hers. "There is a certain person on tonight's guest list that I did not mention, for I did not think the guest would come to pass to attend, but he has."
A cold, hard knot settled in Paris' stomach, and she took a calming breath. No. It could not be, not after all this time.
She clamped her mouth closed and fought not to demand who Millie meant, raising the interest of everyone near them.
"You may invite whomever you please," she said, smiling to hide her discomfort. "There is no one here that can ruin my return to London and the Season. We shall have fun as usual unless it is Lady Smithers, and then I'll be dreadfully angry at you. You know how she dislikes that I married Lord Hervey, whom she had all but settled herself upon during our coming-out year together."
Millie chuckled, but Paris barely heard her friend’s reply.
She clutched at her glass of champagne and fought not to faint as the room spun about her.
It could not be.
