Chapter One

Almack's Hallowed Halls, where unexpected encounters are most richly desired…

Almack's was full to the brim on this fateful Wednesday, the skirts of the ladies barely having chance to swish against the evening breeches of the gentlemen. Tomorrow's papers would probably describe it as being a "sad crush", since HRH himself was rumoured to be attending.

Just a whiff of the Royal presence was enough to send every woman possessing that valuable voucher into a frenzy, and modistes everywhere were currently sprawled in their salons with bottles of brandy, exhausted from the panicked rush that had had them running around in circles with pins in their mouths for the preceding week.

While they put their feet up and polished off their brandies, the recipients of all those delightful gowns were passing through the nondescript doors of the assembly rooms, and craning their necks to see who was here, who was where, and whether he had shown up yet. It was also necessary to ascertain if any other attendee was wearing anything similar in style and colour, and if so, how to avoid her for the entire evening.

Gowns were supposed to be unique to the wearer, of course, but since there were only so many yards of each fabric in London, some duplications were inevitable. Thus far, ribbons, trims, flounces, and lace had helped avert disasters.

HRH had not appeared yet, but just about everyone else had, and moving from one place to another was quite a chore. Especially for a tall, well-proportioned gentleman who was accompanying his sister and mother on this exciting evening.

He didn't find it in the least bit exciting, however, more a nuisance, since there was nowhere to sit, stand, or do much of anything. Forget finding food or beverages, the only thing for him to do, really, was lean against the wall and try not to tread on anyone's gown, or train, or in one case a small dog.

The Right Honourable Ashe Trease shared a moment of silent communication with the pup. He was just about as irritated as the little chap glaring at everyone. The dog had the advantage, though, since he could nip an ankle if he wanted to.

Ashe was reduced to the occasional heavy sigh.

"Excuse me."

The carefully modulated tones of a lady percolated Ashe's misery.

"I am trying to get past. Please move…"

He looked around—and down, to where a woman was staring at him. She had the loveliest brown eyes and elegant features, but her expression was less than friendly.

"I beg your pardon." Ashe would have bowed, but there just wasn't room. "As you can see, this crush has me pretty much locked in, but if you give me your direction, perhaps I might forge a path that will allow you to follow in reasonable comfort?"

She thought for a moment, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "I suppose that would suffice." Then she nodded. "Very well. I am going to the refreshment room."

Ash frowned. "You are? Why?" There were many things that Almack's was, quite correctly, known for. The splendour of their served refreshments wasn't one of them.

"That, sir, is none of your business."

Irritated, Ashe raised his own eyebrow. Higher than hers. "Since I'm about to trample several of my fellow human beings on your behalf," he said calmly. "I think it only fair to be absolutely sure you know what you're walking toward."

"Oh, just do it, will you? Or I'll attempt it on my own."

He huffed out a breath. "Short tempered too. I pity your husband."

"You need not waste your pity, sir. I neither have nor want one, not that it's any of your business."

"You're not here alone," he frowned.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous." She snorted and raised her chin. "This must be your first time at Almack's, or you'd know not to ask such a silly question."

"Actually…"

"Once you've been accepted by the Patronesses, then permission is granted to access whatever room one desires." The look of disdain was clear. "The refreshment room is mostly likely occupied by gentlemen, most of whom are trying to avoid dancing, but very shortly will also be welcoming many ladies. I plan on meeting a friend there. However, I suppose it could take you some time to become accustomed to the ways of acceptable behaviour at Almack's." She looked down her nose at him, which was, he thought, quite an accomplishment, since she was a lot shorter.

"Indeed, Ma'am…"

Ashe didn't get chance to finish what he was saying, as the crowd moved around him, allowing a woman to bear down on him with an enormous smile.

"Ashe, darling," said Lady Jersey. "I heard you were going to be here, and I'm utterly thrilled."

The most notorious Patroness of Almack's hugged him and, as he bent down, planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Now, my dear. I must make you known to people." She noticed the woman standing next to him. The one with the shocked look on her face and her eyes wide.

"Of course. Let's begin here." Sally Jersey turned to Ashe again. "Let me introduce you to Miss Florinda Boothe, daughter of Sir Malcolm and Lady Boothe."

"Miss Boothe." Ashe looked at her and bowed.

"Er, hullo." Miss Boothe looked back at him, her expression of confusion mixed with a degree of embarrassment a delight to behold. She barely remembered to curtsey.

He managed not to laugh, though, because Sally then turned the tables. "Miss Boothe, this is the Right Honourable Ashe Trease, very eligible bachelor, and exactly the sort of lovely man who is always a credit to our humble evenings, wouldn't you say?"

Ashe managed not to blush, merely raising Sally's hand to his lips and dropping a warm kiss on it.

"Er, of course, my Lady. Quite right, quite right indeed." Miss Boothe's eyebrow had resumed its normal position, Ashe noted.

But that chin remained high, and her eyes were saying many things that probably never passed her lips in public.

Ashe was intrigued.

She obviously wasn't.

"Miss Boothe has been granted permission to waltz, Ashe, should you be looking for a partner in this sad crush," said Sally archly. "In the meantime, I must leave you two to get better acquainted." She turned away, only to glance over her shoulder. "Oh, by the way, he's not coming tonight, so as soon as the word gets out, we'll all have a great deal more room to move."

"Thank God," muttered Ashe to her retreating back.

He glanced at Miss Boothe. "So, Ma'am, would you still like an escort? We might be able to push through a little easier in a moment or two, once Sally has whispered the news around."

Those brown eyes narrowed. "I have changed my mind," she said. "There will be no need for you to discompose yourself, sir. But I must offer my thanks for your promised assistance."

And with a haughty sniff and the briefest of curtsies, she spun around on her heel and retreated along the wall.

"What a b—"

"Ashe, here you are, dammit. I've been looking for you everywhere." The voice of his best friend, Northwick Barlow, cut off the word trembling on Ashe's lips.

"I've been stuck here for a while, North," replied Ashe protestingly. "Just couldn't move an inch. Which is why, if you'll recall…" he poked his friend's shoulder, "I said we shouldn't think of coming to these dratted rooms. Nothing but fuss and bother."

"But the ladies, old lad. We'd miss out on all the eligible ladies. Some of ‘em even have more than tuppence, you know."

Ashe sighed. "I'm not looking for a rich bride, North, you know that."

"Yes but, dear fellow, I bloody well am, so as my best friend in the entire world, which you declared yourself to be last night, quite loudly, I might add…"

"In my own defence, it was the brandy," muttered Ashe.

"As my best friend," repeated North, ignoring the comment, "you should be overjoyed to stand at my side as I pick the finest filly with the best purse, and bestow upon her the honour of marrying me and making me a rich man."

Ashe shook his head and chuckled. "I can assure you my cup of happiness will be quite full should that occur. As hers will be, as well, without a doubt." He glanced at the clock and smiled. "However, I'm off to find m'mother and sister. Time for us to depart." The ‘thank God' was very clearly implied.

*~~*~~*

"Well, who was he?" Susan Finchley stared at her friend.

"Who was who?" answered Florinda, casually lifting one of her mobile eyebrows in question, as if she didn't know who they were talking about.

"The tall gentleman by the wall. I saw you two exchanging words. You know the one I mean, the really attractive one."

"He wasn't that handsome," returned Florinda, irritated. "And I've never heard of him before. Silly name. Ashe, I think. Ashe Trease."

Susan giggled. "Really? Ashe Trease?" The giggle became a laugh. "I wonder if he has a brother called Fir?"

"Really, Susan. That's quite immature."

"Florinda." Susan stared at her. "Do not tell me you hadn't already thought of that?"

"Well…"

The two girls stared at each other, and then laughed, trying hard to hide their amusement behind their fans.

After a few minutes of shared hilarity, they forced their countenances back into the acceptable mode of "I'm charmed to be here and everyone should be delighted to meet me", which every debutante attempted to assume at Almack's.

"So, is there anyone here of interest?" Florinda looked around. "I never got chance to visit the refreshment room."

"I'm glad. Going in there on your own without a friend with you? Silly idea, if you ask me."

"Nonsense. I'm sure there were plenty of ladies there. I might even have taken a chance on a stale biscuit or two."

"Not worth it." Susan shook her head. "Eat fresh biscuits at home, Florinda. If some gentlemen had approached you, you might have risked your reputation being in there unescorted. Such a thing could scare away potential husbands."

"Oh." She considered the notion. "What a wonderful idea."

Susan rolled her eyes as she tucked her hand into her friend's arm and steered her back toward the music. "Are you still determined not to wed?"

"I'm determined to find you a husband, my dear, since you seem to be set on the notion. For myself? No thank you."

"Miss Boothe, Miss Fincham."

Accosted in their progress by two gentlemen they'd been attempting to avoid all evening, both girls managed quite pleasant and correct curtsies.

"Mr Franklin. Sir Walter." Polite smiles were exchanged.

"There will be a waltz coming up," said Sir Walter, his eye on Florinda. "Perhaps you might do me the honour…"

"My apologies." Florinda raised her arm and waved the card hanging from her wrist vaguely in his direction. "My dances are all taken for this evening."

He turned to Susan. "Would you have room?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I just filled my card, too." She did, noted Florinda, offer the sad news with an encouraging smile, leaving both gentlemen looking disappointed.

"Our hopes are quite dashed," bowed Mr Franklin. "We must make sure to be beforehand with you both next Wednesday."

"How delightful," said Susan.

"Indeed," echoed Florinda.

Moving on, both girls heaved a sigh of relief, and found a now-available niche in which to catch their breaths. From their vantage point, they could see all the way through the rooms to the front.

"At least the crowd is thinning a bit," said Florinda, slightly distracted by the sight of the back of the Right Honourable Ashe Trease's head as he escorted two ladies out the door. He was, she realised, quite distinctive.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of this crush. There's nobody interesting here, except for your Mr Trease, and you won't tell me about him, anyway." Susan's shoulders slumped. "He looked very nice from a distance."

"I'm sure he is everything that is utterly charming, however, he just left," said Florinda absently. "And at this moment, I don't particularly care about anyone or anything other than finding Mama and getting out of here."

Susan sighed. "She's with my Aunt. Probably near the musicians, if they've put some chairs there this time."

"Ah." Florinda took Susan's arm again and steered her that way. "Come along, then. Between the two of us, I'm fairly sure we can persuade them it's time to go home."

Thus intentioned, the pair of pretty young ladies directed their steps toward their chaperones, and less than a quarter of an hour later, they too were taking their leave through the very doors that Ashe and his party had used not ten minutes earlier.

Of course, many others had used the same doors in that time, but it is useful to note at this point that the paths of Florinda Boothe and Ashe Trease have now crossed twice in one evening.

Could this be a portent of things to come?