Alix and the Spy

Chapter Nine

London, England

1825

A week later

She spotted him through the crowd, as the cluster of dancers in the middle of the ballroom parted during the steps of the dance – like Moses and the Red Sea, she mused, although, thank God, Oakley looked nothing like an old man in biblical robes and a flowing beard.

After which she immediately regretted her blasphemous thought.

Alix could tell he had glimpsed her too, as the dancers swept back together, closing in the gap, for he began edging his way around the ballroom in her direction.

In the week since she had last seen him, Alix had gradually gravitated back to pragmatism, and had convinced herself that any foolish romantic notions should be put out of mind, and that he was nothing more than a friendly gentleman acquaintance.

Although, as he finally reached her side and beamed down at her, there was nothing wrong with the way her pulse quickened slightly, or the way she found herself leaning towards him, eager to hear what he was going to say, was there? She mentally shook herself.

"How have you been enjoying yourself?" he enquired, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips like he had something to hide. "Isn't this ball simply – great fun?" She was sure she had seen him stationed stoically at the refreshments table the entire past hour.

Alix snorted in a rather unlady-like fashion. "I can tell you're simply dying from excitement."

"Oh dear, I was hoping I would be able to hide it. What do you think gave it away?"

"Perhaps it was the number of éclairs you consumed, and the lack of dancing you did."

He beamed as if gratified. "I knew you were watching me. Why are you so obsessed with me, Miss Hathaway?"

Alix rolled her eyes. "You have too high an opinion of yourself, Mr. Oakley."

"On the contrary, some have often called me modest."

Before she could retort or shoot his narcissism down, Elsa suddenly appeared at her side, clutching eagerly onto her arm, evidently failing to notice Oakley in front of her. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed from the exertion of dance.

"I've just had the most incredible dance, Alix!" she gushed. "Mr. Daverwood is a marvellous dancer; I felt as if I were floating on air the entire time. He was so eternally graceful, and one couldn't have asked for a better – oh!" She'd finally noticed Colin Oakley gazing at her in amusement, and a little bemusement as well, for Elsa could often launch into a ramble when exceedingly happy.

Her eyes were as wide as pennies, as she realized the man she had not too long ago gushed about to her sisters had seemingly materialized in front of them.

Realising that introductions should be made, Alix quickly gestured at her sister to Oakley. "Mr. Oakley, may I introduce my sister Elsa Hathaway. Elsa, you may recall Mr. Oakley."

Elsa, flushed but still characteristically elegant, dropped into a low curtsey befitting that of a Duke's son. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oakley."

Colin took the hand that she offered, shaking it with a warmth unusual for a ballroom introduction, but Alix was beginning to realize that he never did things in halves. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Elsa. You look stunning tonight, and your dance was as eternally graceful as James Daverwood's was, although I am slightly biased, for I've known him for years and I recall when he couldn't make a turn around a room without stumbling over his own feet at least twice."