CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
“I beg your pardon, sir; I was concentrating so fiercely on the steps that I did not even hear what you said.”
“I merely remarked that this place is so crowded already that the temperature will be tropical within the hour,” he replied, regarding her curiously. “Is this your first ball, then? Did you not attend the local assemblies in Hertfordshire?”
“No, never. My father was of a reclusive disposition. We neither entertained nor participated in local society.”
Lord Hastings looked as if he meant to pursue the subject, but sustained conversation was well nigh impossible during a country dance, so he contented himself with short phrases of encouragement and praise when the movements brought them together for a few seconds, supplemented by discreet miming motions indicating which way she was to turn on a couple of instances when she hesitated.
Almost as if she were a child coerced into performing before guests, Laura thought, amused but touched also by the generosity of nature that was his most endearing quality.
“No one would have guessed this was your first time on the dance floor,” he said, beaming a proud smile at her as they headed back to where Mrs. Marsh sat with Mrs. Chandler.
Buoyed by her success and spurred by a rush of elation, Laura giggled. “Thank you, Papa,” she said, casting him a look of demure mischief.
“You are mistaken, my dear Laura,” he pointed out, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. “I never feel fatherly in the company of a beautiful woman.”
“Do not talk nonsense. I have already acquainted you with my disdain for flirting,” she said severely, electing not to acknowledge his greater presumption in appropriating the use of her given name.
“I was not flirting.”
Sensing the hurt behind his grumble, Laura sent a sideways look at his unsmiling profile, relieved on the whole to be too close to the spot where her mother sat to be able to speak as he bowed, thanked her and took himself off to meet Sophia, who was returning with her father.
Laura danced next with her uncle, who did his duty by her with an economy of movement while he expressed curiosity about Lord Hastings, whom he’d met for the first time when they arrived — a curiosity she took pleasure in deflecting with vague replies.
She was thankful to have acquitted herself creditably when the dance was over at last.
Next on her card was the irrepressible Mr. Castle, who kept her in a ripple of slightly scandalised merriment with his disrespectful comments on the quality of the entertainment to be expected under Almack’s hallowed roof.
Nothing escaped his scathing review, from the strict rules governing dress and manners to the dullness of the company and the niggardly nature of the refreshments served.
“Why are you here tonight, if you find Almack’s so tame?” she asked with real curiosity as the dance ended.
“Jack dragged me here to make sure you and Miss Albright had friends to support you, though anyone but a gudgeon would have seen from the start that the pair of you were going to have hopeful partners queuing up outside the doors.”
She smiled at the exasperation in his voice and tilted her head to the side as she asked, “Do you always do whatever Lord Hastings asks of you?”
“Certainly not,” he replied, revolted at the suggestion — then, catching her eye, grinned sheepishly.
“Jack and I have been friends since Eton. He’s pulled my mutton out of the fire more times than I can count — and got me into trouble almost as often,” he added, pulling in the corners of his mouth.
“He’s not called ‘Hasty Jack’ for nothing — always ripe for a lark or up for a challenge, no matter how stupid.
That was in our school days, of course,” he explained quickly, bringing his indiscreet reminiscences to an abrupt end.
“I see. So you are both sober, responsible citizens now?” Laura’s dulcet question went unanswered except by a lifted brow before she was claimed by her next partner, a gentleman who had been at Lady Bentley’s card party.
Mr. Castle reappeared at her elbow at the end of the dance. “Miss Marsh, here is someone who is eager to meet you. May I present Mr. Hugh Redmond?”
Laura curtsied to the man standing just behind Mr. Castle. “How do you —?”
Words failed her as her stricken eyes met those of the helpful stranger who had carried young Henry Wright to a hackney carriage after his accident. Colour flamed into her cheeks and her brain froze in mortification as she recalled the lie she had told him on that occasion.
“How do you do, Miss Marsh?” Mr. Redmond said with a smile that invited her complicity. “Do you know, I rather thought you were too fashionably dressed for a governess.”
“Yes, I … I beg your pardon, sir. It was very bad of me to say that, but —”
“Not at all; you were simply being prudent. I do understand, and I beg your pardon for not being able to resist teasing you a little just now. That was not well done of me. How is the boy? I trust his injury did not prove serious?”
“No, he is completely recovered, thank you. And may I repeat my own gratitude for your very kind intervention during a difficult situation?” Laura smiled and offered her hand.
Mr. Redmond grasped it warmly but protested the trifling nature of the service. “Anyone would have done the same. I have been amply rewarded by your acquaintance, belated though it may be. May I have the honour of a dance this evening, Miss Marsh?”
“I fear there is but one left open — the waltz that is starting up now — but I am not yet permitted to waltz, Mr. Redmond.”
“All the better,” he replied promptly. “We will be able to advance our acquaintance further if we are not whirling about the floor dodging the more enthusiastic types bent on destruction.” He presented his arm and, after a slight hesitation, Laura placed her fingers on his sleeve.
“My mother will be wondering what has become of me,” she said. “If you will be so kind as to escort me to where she is sitting, I know she will be happy to meet you.”
“Of course.” He bowed in acquiescence and they strolled off the floor, evading the dancers.
“Oh,” Laura said, a smile breaking over her face, “this is fortunate indeed. Henry’s father, Lord Exton, is sitting with my mother. He will certainly wish to add his thanks for what he does not consider a trifling service to his son, I warrant.”
Mr. Redmond murmured appropriately and the pair changed direction. Neither had been aware that Mr. Castle had drifted away some time after performing the introduction.
Lord Hastings, who had witnessed the meeting from a distance, had marked Mr. Castle’s movements with half his attention. Now he signalled to his friend, who came over to the group that included the baron.
“Have you seen Miss Ambrose? I am engaged for this waltz with her, thanks to Lady Jersey’s machinations, and now the wretched girl has vanished.”
“Not so loud,” Jack warned in an undertone, turning a shoulder on his companions. “She is sitting amongst the dowagers behind this group. Wait, Barney! Who was that fellow, the one you dragged over to meet Miss Marsh?”
“No dragging about it, dear boy. He all but fell on my neck begging to be presented. Said he’d seen me dancing with her earlier.
” Mr. Castle, who had not missed the tightening of his old friend’s mouth at this information, was not fooled by the casual tone in which Lord Hastings repeated his question, adding, “He looks familiar, but his name escapes me.”
“Name’s Redmond. You might have seen him sparring at Jackson’s. They say he’s got a punishing left. Certainly moves well in the ring, good science too.”
Jack’s frown became a scowl. “What do you know about him? Why did Miss Marsh look distressed at the introduction?”
“Never heard anything against the chap. I believe he’s a friend of Mercer’s, a few years ahead of us at Eton.
As for Miss Marsh, she wasn’t distressed as far as I could see, not really.
Thought at first that they’d met before.
She was apologising for something she’d said — but that can’t be right,” Mr. Castle said, interrupting himself, “because he didn’t know her name until I told him.
I might be wrong about that, but I can’t stand here talking.
The music’s started. I can feel Lady Jersey’s eyes on the back of my neck like two daggers.
This is the last time I let you cozen me into coming to this dratted place, Jack, mark my words. ”
Lord Hastings stared after his departing friend for a moment, digesting his comments while curiosity, for want of a better term, as to any previous association between Laura Marsh and the well-set-up man who had begged Barney to present him blotted out all other social considerations.
Fortunately, he had been more successful than his friend at dodging the hostesses bent on securing partners for the wallflowers.
With a smile and a murmur he disengaged himself from the convivial group that had been exchanging tips on the upcoming races at the Newmarket meeting and began a systematic search for Laura and her unknown admirer.
This was her first time at Almack’s and it was highly unlikely that she’d have gained permission to take the floor for a waltz, so he turned his back on the dancers and started a casual circuit of the room’s perimeter, making for the spot where he’d last seen Mrs. Marsh.
His progress was impeded by the necessity of recognising acquaintances and bowing to several of his mother’s cronies, including one whose ruthless clutches he did not manage to escape without inviting her bran-faced tittering daughter to dance later in the evening.
By the time he spotted the Marsh ladies, his collar points were beginning to feel a bit wilted and he was heartily endorsing Barney’s opinion of the charms of an evening at Almack’s.