"The women," he said finally, his voice low. "They always flock around me. Because of the title, you understand. Not because they have any interest in me as a person." He took a long drink. "But there's someone I—" He stopped, shaking his head. "This is entirely inappropriate to discuss with a lady I've just met."
"I crashed into you," Penelope pointed out. "I think we're past propriety. Besides, you look like you need to tell someone."
Frederick studied her face, seeming to come to some decision. "I've loved Lady Genevieve Kingsley for years," he said quietly. "We were close friends as children. She's brilliant, kind, funny in ways that surprise you. But I never told her how I felt, and now—"
He gestured across the ballroom.
Penelope followed his gaze and spotted a young woman in a gown of emerald green. She was slightly rounder than the current fashion dictated, with dark brunette hair arranged in simple curls and a smile that lit up her entire face. She was currently laughing at something a gentleman in military uniform was saying, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
"Oh," Penelope said softly.
"Exactly," Frederick said miserably. "I waited too long. And now Captain Huxley is paying her court, and she seems quite taken with him, and I—" He took another drink. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear any of this."
Penelope bit her lower lip, considering. Her instinct was to make a polite excuse and leave, this wasn't her business, after all. She barely knew this man.
But there was something about Frederick Ellington's obvious misery that reminded her of her own frustration. And if she was being honest, the idea of actually helping someone navigate this ridiculous social maze was far more appealing than enduring another round of tedious small talk with potential suitors.
"I'll help you," she heard herself say.
Frederick's head snapped up. "What?"
"I'll help you," Penelope repeated, warming to the idea. "Win Lady Genevieve's attention. Make yourself more….appealing to her."
"You would do that?" Frederick looked like she had just offered him the crown jewels. "Why?"
"Because you're honest," Penelope said simply. "Also," she added with a grin, "it will give me something interesting to do besides fending off boring suitors."
Frederick grabbed her hand and kissed it with such enthusiasm that Penelope had to suppress a laugh. "Thank you, Lady Carrington. Truly, I don't know how to—"
"You can start," Penelope interrupted, "by asking me to dance."
"I'm a terrible dancer," Frederick admitted sheepishly.
"That's quite alright. Just follow my lead." She glanced across the ballroom to where Genevieve was still conversing with Captain Huxley. "And try to look like you're having a wonderful time."
The orchestra struck up a lively country dance as they took their positions. Frederick proved to be exactly as terrible at dancing as he had warned—he stepped on her toes twice in the first minute—but Penelope found she didn't mind. She found his earnest concentration endearing, same with the way he muttered apologies every time he fumbled.
"See?" Penelope whispered as they turned in the pattern. "Lady Genevieve is looking."
Frederick's head started to turn.
"Don't look directly at her!" Penelope hissed. "Pretend you haven't noticed. Make her wonder why you're paying attention to me instead of her."
"This is remarkably complicated," Frederick said, nearly colliding with another couple.
"Romance usually is," Penelope replied, steering him back into position.
As they danced, Penelope became aware of whispers rippling through the crowd around them.
"Is that the Carrington girl?"
"With the Earl of Greymoor?"
"He never dances with anyone. What an interesting match."
"Do you think—"
"They do look rather charming together."
Perfect. Penelope caught Genevieve's eye across the dance floor and was satisfied to see a slight frown creasing the young woman's forehead. Captain Huxley was still talking, but Genevieve's attention was clearly elsewhere.
The dance ended with a flourish. Frederick bowed, Penelope curtsied, and applause rippled through the ballroom.
"That was—" Frederick began.
"Lord Ellington," Anthony appeared at Penelope's elbow. "A pleasure to see you this evening. However, I'm afraid I must steal my sister away. It's time we were heading home."
"Already?" Penelope protested. "We've barely been here two hours."
"Always leave them wanting more," Anthony said, though his tone suggested this wasn't up for debate. "Wouldn't you agree, Lord Ellington?"
"Of course," Frederick said quickly. Then, to Penelope: "Shall I see you at the races tomorrow?"
The races. Tomorrow.
Penelope opened her mouth to answer, and remembered. Lord Ashmore. Viscount Dorian Ashmore had asked her to the races. In front of Duke Pembroke. In front of half of Hyde Park.
She should say no. She should tell Frederick that she had other plans. Plans with a man her brothers had explicitly warned her away from.
But Genevieve was watching them from across the ballroom, and Frederick looked so hopeful, so grateful for her help.
"Yes," Penelope heard herself say, ignoring the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Cordelia calling her a fool. "Of course. I'll see you there."
Frederick's face lit up. "Wonderful. Until tomorrow, then, Lady Carrington."
He bowed deeply and disappeared into the crowd. Anthony's hand on her elbow was gentle but firm as he guided her toward the exit where their family was gathering. "Lord Ellington is a fine match."
"Unlike Lord Ashmore?" Penelope couldn't help asking.
Anthony's jaw tightened. "We'll discuss this at home. As I promised."
Penelope's mind churned with thoughts as the carriage left the ball.
She had agreed to help Frederick win the affection of another woman.
She had also, apparently, agreed to attend the races with a man she had essentially promised not to see.
"Well," she muttered to herself as London's gas lamps flickered past the carriage window. "This ought to be interesting."