“We’re not,” said Will. “This is one of those balls that we can’t avoid—Nicola Salisbury has been a friend of Alex’s for years. She’s not going to miss this for anything.”

Nick spoke up. “That may be true, but I really am beginning to think that Alex is no more interested in attending the Salisbury Ball than we are. She’s been rather more difficult than usual in the last few days, don’t you think?”

Kit replied distractedly, “No, not that I’ve noticed.”

Blackmoor cut in, his question appearing to all as casual curiosity. “Has she told you that something is bothering her?”

Nick shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, not in so many words. She simply seems to have developed more of a disdain for events of the season. She hasn’t been eager to attend much in the last week.”

Will snorted. “Alex has never been very keen on events of the season. I wouldn’t worry about her. As I said, Nicola is a friend. She’ll want to go. One of us has to chaperone her. And, since I’m older and of a higher rank, I get to decide who that will be. Care to hazard a guess, Kit?” His green eyes twinkled with laughter.

“Bollocks!” This from Kit, who was not about to accept this particular decision without a fight. “It can’t be me!”

“Why not?”

Kit paused, clearly searching for a viable excuse to avoid the ball in question. His eyes lit up with excitement when he’d hit on the right thing. “The hunting party I’ve an invitation to is just as viable a location to meet an eligible young lady as any, I daresay. I shall simply tell Mother that.” He looked veritably triumphant.

Will groaned, knowing his mother well enough to see that she would take Kit’s statement to mean that there was a particular eligible young lady to whom he was referring. “Well played, Brother.”

Kit nodded his head in acceptance of the compliment and Will sighed, slowly shuffling the cards, deep in thought as he attempted to devise an excellent excuse to escape from brotherly duties.

Blackmoor, who had been rather silent for the duration of the conversation, cleared his throat, softly interrupting his friends’ thoughts.

“I happen to be attending the ball. I daresay I could chaperone her.”

Will’s eyes lit up at his friend’s words. “Truly?” At Blackmoor’s nod, he continued, “Brilliant! Everyone thinks of you as one of her brothers anyway…you practically are, for goodness sake!”

Blackmoor cleared his throat again. “Indeed.”

Attempting to contain his excitement at his narrow escape, Will tried for a serious, concerned look at his friend. That particular visage did not come easily. “Are you sure, Blackmoor? I can’t think of anything worse than an evening of watching over Alex as she attracts legions of milksop fans.”

Blackmoor laughed shortly and replied, “Neither can I.” After a pause during which he realized that he needed to say more to his friends, he continued, “But I’m attending anyway, so…it simply seems the logical solution.”

“Capital! I knew there was a reason we kept you around, chap!”

Nick shook his head in amazement at his older brother. “It’s simply incredible, the luck you have. If that had been me, I’d have somehow ended up having to escort her, Vivi, and Ella for the rest of the season!”

A clock in the hallway of Blackmoor House rang loudly, announcing the arrival of six o’clock. All three Staffords started.

Will threw his cards down and stood. “That’s our cue, lads. Mother wants us home for dinner this evening to discuss the plans for the Worthington Ball.”

Nick sighed and rose, then spoke with exasperation in his voice. “You’d think there was nothing more important in all of the British Empire than the season. Lord save us from idle mothers.”

“Don’t suppose you’d care to join us, Blackmoor?” This from Kit. “After all, you seem quite adept at limiting our involvement in all things season-related.”

“I imagine I’ve done enough for you this particular evening,” he said. “A night discussing a ball with your mother as well? I think not.”

Will clapped Gavin on the shoulder. “Well said, Blackmoor. We shall let you escape this time—but only because you are such a very good friend.”

With that, the three brothers took their leave and Blackmoor found himself alone once more in his study in the dwindling light.

He swore roundly, cursing himself for making the unintelligent—nay, idiotic—offer to escort Alex to the Salisbury Ball. What had he been thinking?

“Clearly not much,” he spoke aloud to the room at large.

There was nothing about this situation that could go right. It was bad enough that he’d come dangerously close to compromising Alex’s honor with her entire family standing mere feet away—but now he was offering to chaperone her? Alone?

“She’s as good as your sister!” Again, he spoke aloud, his voice laced with self-disgust.

Except she wasn’t his sister, and he knew that. The emotions he’d felt on the balcony the previous week were far from brotherly. Very far from brotherly. Which was why he’d been making every effort to avoid her for the past week. Eight days. Not that he’d noticed. Well, he had noticed. But only because they were friends. Just friends. And it was to stay that way. The Stafford family had done too much for him, too much for his family, for him to throw it all away and go off kissing Alex. They trusted him. And he would not betray that trust. Besides, Alex probably hadn’t given that event on the balcony a second thought. They were only friends.