“I’m sure you’d rather be on the dance floor, Miss Pearce.”

“I’ve never cared for ballrooms, Madame Theodore.” Annabel looked down the row of chaperones. “Though I do enjoy the fashions. Miss Wallace looks particularly lovely this evening.”

“Belinda is a beautiful girl, but it is amazing how much the dresses have changed from the last two Seasons.” Madame Theodore raised her spectacles to her nose for the briefest moment as she assessed Annabel.

“They have,” Mrs. Linden said. “Though I’ve always found it odd that we dispose of entire wardrobes based on Paris fashions. Especially since we’ve been at war with France more years than not.” She gave Annabel a discreet wink. “Elizabeth looks quite elegant this evening.”

Elizabeth wore a dark blue dress that matched her eyes, and the simple lines enhanced her figure. Her blonde curls cascaded from the crown of her head over one shoulder, balancing the teardrop-shaped diamonds dangling from her ears. The matching necklace, one large diamond on a silver chain, stopped at the center of her chest and did not draw the eye to her cleavage.

Madame Theodore flicked her spectacles again. “She is lucky her mother was aware of current fashions and could guide her before she took ill.”

The dress’s neckline was too low for a girl Elizabeth’s age. Annabel suspected Elizabeth had visited the seamstress for alterations once her mother left for Bath. However, she took pride in the influence she’d been able to wield this evening. Elizabeth looked properly fashionable, as any Society beau would expect. She also danced well, and she’d had two sets with Garret Spaulding, heir to the Earl of Dunraven.

“In Paris, the young ladies benefit from the experience of older women who have had successful Seasons of their own.” The Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow as she swept a critical eye over Annabel’s dress. “Women who have excelled in Society understand the importance of first impressions.”

If they’re so successful, why are they not raising daughters of their own? Annabel knew better than to utter the sarcasm-laced question. How many times had her brain alienated her in a ballroom?

“Some ladies will take every opportunity to make their mark, however they can.” Mrs. Danforth, the companion to Charlotte Bainbridge, speared a hard-eyed looked down the row toward Annabel. “They certainly don’t need dresses to do it.” Her smile twisted. “It might help not to have one at all.”

Annabel sucked a breath deep into her lungs. It didn’t matter if she was dancing or sitting on the sidelines, and the age of her companions made no difference. Women in a ballroom were nasty competitors—even if they were seconds in the duels.

Her cheeks and ears heated. “How dare—”

Mrs. Linden reached for Annabel’s fingers. Her grip was warm and firm as she faced the other chaperones. “Ladies, we are above such nastiness. At least we should be.”

“Come now, Mary,” Miss Danforth said. “You can’t ignore that Ramsbury has spent far too much time with Miss Pearce.”

“It has damaged Belinda’s prospects as well as Charlotte’s,” Madame Theodore hissed. “The only one not affected is your Miss Allen, but we know she’s had her hooks—”

“That is quite enough.” Mrs. Linden thumped her cane against the floor. “Miss Allen’s relationship with Lord Ramsbury is no one else’s concern but mine, and I am convinced of its propriety.”

“Mary—”

“I will not hear another word against her or against the marquess. He has always treated me as a guest in his home. I suspect what you’ve witnessed this past fortnight is nothing but his wicked sense of humor.” Mrs. Linden chuckled. “He likes nothing more than taking self-important people down a peg or two.”

She released her grip on Annabel’s hand but patted it for good measure, as though she was apologizing for dashing a romantic dream.

Annabel gritted her teeth to keep from screeching about Jasper Warren’s kindness and wicked sense of humor. For the past two weeks, he’d had great fun making her a spectacle at every game, ride, or after-dinner musicale. Even a midday visit to the library had become fodder for gossip.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” She stood and turned on her heel, circling the dance floor on her way to the punchbowl. She wasn’t surprised to see the party continuing as if the argument had never happened. No one ever paid attention to chaperones at a ball.

Not even their host. Jasper was dancing with Belinda Wallace. The candlelight cast his hair in a halo-like glow, and his crooked grin made him look as wicked as the devil himself. He cut a fine figure in his black tailcoat and white waistcoat and cravat.

“He’s difficult to miss, isn’t he?” Fiona asked.

Annabel glanced over her shoulder and at Fiona’s doting smile. It was no wonder she and Jasper were friends. They clearly shared the same perverse sense of humor and distaste for social rules.

It was freeing to be surrounded by people who were at ease being themselves.

“Anyone with his height would be difficult to miss.”

Fiona tilted her head back in a deep, honest laugh that had several people staring as they left the dance floor. “Oh, I like you,” she said.

“You two seem to be enjoying yourselves,” Jasper said as he came to Fiona’s side. “Did someone miss a step?”

“Miss Pearce was just commenting on your height,” Fiona said. Her eyes danced over the rim of her glass.

Jasper accepted the sarcastic compliment with a slow dip of his head and a twisted grin. “I’m glad to see you away from the spectators, Miss Pearce. Are you up for a dance?”

“No, thank you, Lord Ramsbury. I’m not dancing.”

“But I insist.” The way he leaned forward to whisper, the laughter dripping from his words, sheared the last thread of Annabel’s temper.

Every night before she fell asleep, she promised to avoid him and to not rise to the bait. Every day, he never paid her enough attention to be scandalous but just enough to cause whispers, knowing she wouldn’t be impolite.

“Insist all you want. I won’t be dancing.” Annabel struggled to keep her voice low as she glared into Jasper’s mocking eyes. “If you wish to prove yourself egalitarian enough to treat paid help as honored guests, go ask Madame Theodore to join you in the next quadrille. I’ve had quite enough.”

She turned her back on both of them, intent on retrieving a drink to calm her nerves and using the darkness past the crowd to mask her escape. However, the break in dancing meant a crowd had gathered for refreshments. Belinda and Charlotte cast cutting glances her way.

It would be like entering a nest of snakes.

“Would you like me to fetch you something?” Jasper’s question echoed over the crowd.

She had already been rude to him. Nosing through his house and eavesdropping on conversations was the height of impoliteness. Asking their assigned maid about life in the house, encouraging her to gossip, was improper. One more time wouldn’t matter.

Annabel closed the distance so she didn’t have to shout. “I would like for you to leave me alone. I am tired of being shunned simply because you find humor in tweaking everyone else’s noses.”

Fiona looked between them, her frown deepening. “Annabel…”

She put up a hand to stop the charade. Spencer could go to the devil and take his threats with him. Jasper Warren was nothing more than a bored gentleman skirting scandal for fun.

Elizabeth would throw a tantrum, but if they packed tonight and left first thing in the morning, they could be in Bath by teatime.

Annabel swept her gaze across the crowd, all of whom were being far too obvious about ignoring her. Elizabeth wasn’t in the room. “Where is Miss Spencer?” She counted the heads of every man at the party, only relaxing when they were all accounted for.

“I believe she and Charlotte had words. Their heads were together for several minutes before she left the room.” Fiona’s voice had lost its sparkle. “Elizabeth’s color was quite high.”

“Thank you.” Annabel strode into the hall without looking back to meet the gazes she felt at her back. She ignored the whispers hissing behind her.

At the top of the stairs, she found their maid in the hallway. “Follow me, Ruth.”

Wide-eyed, the girl curtsied before hurrying forward. Annabel followed at a quick pace. Perhaps Elizabeth would be more circumspect if there was someone else in the room, especially if she’d had another row with Charlotte.

The maid waited at the door, and Annabel swept in without knocking. “Elizabeth?”

The room was empty. So was the adjoining dressing room. There was no one on the balcony. Annabel’s heart hammered against her ribs. Where else would Elizabeth go? Had she arranged an assignation while Annabel had been too busy fighting a battle she’d been lured into? Had that been Jasper’s plan all along?

She turned to the maid. “Have you seen Miss Spencer on the upper floors during the dancing?”