Page 30 of The Big Bad Duke

“Ladies!” Caroline exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let me introduce you to my esteemed guest.”

The women turned as one, their smiles bright and curiosity evident in their eyes.

“Annalise, Olivia, Lavinia—this is Lady Leila, an esteemed guest from Smyrna. She is accompanying her husband on his diplomatic trip. Lady Leila, this is Lady Payne, Lady St. John, and Lady Roth.”

Leila smiled politely, though she knew she would never remember any of those names. Why did English people need so many names? It was absolutely confusing.

“A pleasure to meet you,” said the woman closest to her, and the others echoed the sentiment.

“What a wonderful ball you’ve arranged, Caroline,” one of them said.

“Yes, the decorations are absolutely divine,” chimed in another.

“The colors, the elegant way you’ve used fabric throughout the ballroom—it’s impressive,” added the third. “You’ll have to teach us how to do it.”

“I love doing it, as you know. But this particular ball… I’m simply continuing Victoria’s work, since she cannot,” Caroline said with a smile, though her eyes dimmed. “And my uncle’s work as well.”

“Your uncle would be very proud of you,” one woman said softly.

“And Victoria will be happy to read all about it in your letter.”

Caroline’s face brightened again. “But I didn’t bring Lady Leila here to boast about my hosting skills. In fact, she needs our help.”

“Oh?”

Leila openly studied the woman to her left, automatically cataloging details as she had been trained to do. She had brown hair that shone golden in the light, warm doe-brown eyes, and naturally rosy, apple-shaped cheeks.

If she were Osmanlı, Leila thought, her name would surely be Elma—Apple.

“Yes, Lady Leila, would you like to explain your purpose here?” Caroline prompted.

“Of course.” Leila launched into her usual rehearsed speech while continuing to study the women before her.

Right next to the woman Leila had dubbed Elma stood another with the most beautiful golden hair she had ever seen, arranged to surround her head like a celestial halo. Leila mentally christened her Ayla, which meant “moon’s halo” in her native tongue.

The last woman in the circle had rich brown hair and light brown eyes, but what struck Leila most was her animated demeanor. She seemed unable to remain still—fidgeting with her gown or gloves, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her head constantly turning to follow the surrounding conversations.

“That is a lovely cause. I will ask Blake—my husband—to write a bank draft before we leave the ball,” the woman Leila had named Ayla exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with enthusiasm.

“But that’s not nearly enough,” Caroline interjected. “We should encourage everyone here tonight to contribute. I only wish I could organize another ball on short notice. When are you planning to leave London?”

Leila felt her chest tighten. “It depends on circumstances—” she began, but her words died in her throat as she caught sight of a familiar figure entering the ballroom.

Wolverstone.

He was here.

The sole reason she had actually attended this function.

The sole reason she was in London to begin with.

Wolverstone.

The title suited him perfectly.

He was like a wolf carved from stone.

When she saw him for the first time, that thought had run through her mind. It was an easy name to remember, but in her mind, she couldn’t help but think of him simply as the Wolf. Grey Wolf.