Stroke of Midnight by Olivia Drake

to identify her.
    Laura averted her face and rose from the chair, hoping that she hadn’t betrayed herself. Though she didn’t have permission to go, she left anyway, making her way through the masses of people. Only when she was a safe distance away did she dare to glance back.
    Lord Oliver stood conversing with Lady Josephine. Thank heavens he wasn’t staring after Laura. That had been a very close call.
    Releasing a breath, Laura decided to keep to the outskirts of the throng. She had let down her guard for a moment, and that mustn’t happen again. If she kept her head bowed, people would know by her plain attire that she was no one of consequence, and then she could discreetly survey the company. Here and there, she spied familiar faces, though none were the ones she sought.
    Where had Alex gone? She wanted to know only in order to avoid him. Since the orchestra had stopped for an interlude, he wasn’t on the dance floor. Perhaps he’d never intended to watch her. Perhaps he’d come here tonight to pursue his own entertainment—or to seek a bride.
    Then, as she neared the great arched doorway, she spotted him. Half a head taller than the other gentlemen nearby, he stood by a grouping of ferns in the far corner of the ballroom. He was engaged in conversation with a slim lady whose back was turned to Laura.
    Diamonds glinted in the woman’s elegant auburn coiffure. A pale blue satin ribbon cinched the waist of her marine-blue gown, and the fullness of the skirt enhanced her slenderness. Tilting her head coquettishly, she placed a gloved hand on his lapel and laughed at something he said.
    That one gesture stabbed Laura’s heart with recognition. A visceral disgust twisted inside her, an echo of the past. His companion was Lady Evelyn, daughter of the Marquess of Haversham.
    A decade ago, she had been Laura’s nemesis. From the moment Alex had shown a preference for Laura, Evelyn had made it her mission to win him for herself. She had flirted with him, coerced him into fetching her drinks, and tried to lure him away when he was dancing with Laura.
    Lady Evelyn had learned her predatory nature at her father’s knee. Lord Haversham was one of the few in the ton who’d treated Papa with icy disdain. Their feud dated back to their youth when they had been rivals for the affections of Laura’s mother. Papa had won the girl—and Lord Haversham had never forgiven him.
    He was the man whom Laura suspected of having framed her father—very likely with Lady Evelyn’s help.
    Laura had good reason to believe that, because on the day prior to Papa being accused of theft, Evelyn had come to their town house on a pretext. It had been somewhat early for morning calls from the ton. Laura had still been upstairs dressing—unwittingly giving Evelyn sufficient time to plant the jewels in Papa’s desk. There had been no legitimate reason for her visit other than to gloat over a promise she’d finagled from Alex to take her for a carriage ride.
    Now it appeared Evelyn was still pursuing him. Had she never married? Or perhaps she was married and fidelity mattered little to her. Laura resolved to keep her ears open for gossip. Any bit of information, no matter how small, might be used to formulate a plan to see justice done.
    An elderly couple bumped her arm, murmured an apology, and continued on their way. Realizing she’d stopped in the flow of traffic, Laura cast one last burning look at Alex and Evelyn. Whatever it was they were discussing, he clearly found the woman enthralling. How could he be so brainless as to associate with that hussy? It only went to prove that he lacked even a shred of moral decency.
    Suddenly he lifted his eyes and stared straight through the crowd at Laura. An involuntary flush suffused her body in heat.
    She spun on her heel, hurried out of the ballroom, and entered a large reception hall with potted palm trees that towered up to the night-darkened glass roof. Many guests were milling here in