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you?” Louisa spoke as she held out a pair of white kid gloves in her youngest daughter’s direction.
    Stunned her mother would have an extra pair of gloves, Olivia reached for them and slid one finger along their smooth surface. “But, aren’t you going to wear them?” she wondered, looking up to find her mother regarding her with a smile. And sporting two gloved hands.
    “I keep an extra pair in my reticule, of course,” Louisa replied with a nod. Her statement was following by a hastily swallowed gasp and a quick jerk of one leg, hinting that her husband was already being mischievous.
    “Thank you,” Olivia replied, wriggling her arm into one of the long gloves. The leather ended just beyond her elbow. How elegant, she thought as she held up one arm in the bit of light that shone from one of the carriage windows. If she was a wallflower at tonight’s ball, then at least she’d be an elegant wallflower.
    As Michael expected, it was nearly eight when he and his mother climbed into the Cunningham coach-and-four for the trip to Crawley. Despite the fair weather, the ball was not a crush. He hoped their hostess wouldn’t be too disappointed as he escorted his mother up the stairs to the ballroom entrance. The lack of a crowd meant a quieter ballroom in which to converse and more room for dancing. As he glanced around the room, looking for familiar faces, he remembered Olivia wouldn’t be in attendance. A sudden melancholy settled over him at the thought. Not wanting his mood to affect his mother, he excused himself and returned to the vestibule to wait for his new acquaintances to arrive.
    “Will we be announced?” Eloisa wondered as she gave up her shawl to a footman just inside the vestibule of the Fitzsimmons’ manor house. She glanced about, hoping they weren’t earlier than most of the guests.
    “No, dear,” her mother sighed from where she stood with her father. “We’re not in London. And we’re not at a ton ball,” she added as she allowed Harold to remove her wrap and give it to a waiting footman.
    Disappointed, Eloisa glanced around, hoping she would recognize someone. “What about dance cards?” she asked, thinking that her come-out should include the opportunity for young men to sign their names next to the dances they wished to claim.
    “No, thank the gods,” her father replied as he held out his arm to her. “Come along. The orchestra is nearly done warming up,” he stated. Eloisa put her arm on his and straightened so she was as tall as she could be. Placing a hand on his other arm, Louisa fell into step as they made their way up the stairs to the ballroom.
    Following behind, her eyes darting about in an attempt to take in all of her surroundings at once, Olivia marveled at the decor. She wondered at the number of candles in the chandeliers hanging above the stairs. So taken with the thought of calculating just how many were mounted in the fixture above the stairs, she barely noticed her arm lifting onto the sleeve of a black satin topcoat.
    “May I?” Michael Cunningham whispered from directly to her right.
    Olivia smiled, sure her face was blooming with color. “Since you’re not breaking any of father’s rules, then by all means,” she whispered back, stealing only a quick glance in his direction. Given the level of noise in the vestibule and main hall, their whispers went unheard by any of the people around them, including her parents.
    “From your comment yesterday, I thought you wouldn’t be in attendance,” Michael whispered back, his head leaning toward hers so he could be heard.
    Olivia ducked her head. “Until an hour ago, I didn’t know I was,” she countered, finally turning so she could look at his profile. Her stomach did a little flip, and she found herself having to stifle the gasp she nearly let out. Michael Cunningham was a handsome man when dressed in his everyday attire; when dressed in black satin breeches, black satin topcoat and a red waistcoat, he