CHAPTER SIXTEEN #3
The ascending sounds reached Sophia and she started. The wooden look on her face dissolved as she dashed across the few feet to Laura’s side, saying, “Here, let me drape your scarf more evenly for you, cousin.”
Laura stood frozen in place, aware of sudden discomfort where Sophia’s fingers bit into her arm.
“Please, please promise you won’t leave me alone with Sir Cyril tonight, even for a minute!
” she whispered in Laura’s ear as she reached behind her to adjust the scarf with fumbling fingers.
Laura turned her head to meet dark pleading eyes inches from her own.
Only when she signalled a silent assent with her lips did the unrelenting pressure on her arm abate, leaving white marks until the blood rushed back in under the skin.
The next moment a parade of elegantly attired guests began, demanding her concentration.
She was dimly aware of the orchestra playing at the other end of the long room, but had lost track of time when the rhythm of her heartbeat altered suddenly and her eyes were drawn to a tall familiar figure making his way past her relatives to where she stood at the end of the receiving line.
She had not dared to assume he would come despite his exemplary manners. Numbly she extended her hand. His light touch set her pulses racing, but her eyes fell before that neutral gaze.
“I hope I am not too late to secure a waltz with you, Miss Marsh?”
“Not at all, sir,” she replied, his formality stiffening her knees as he moved on with a little bow. Her eyes followed Jack’s progress toward a group that included Mr. Castle and Miss Robbins until her mother’s little cough alerted her to the next arrivals.
Released at length from the tedium of the reception line, Laura was free to enjoy herself, had that desirable objective not been rendered impossible by the knowledge that she must soon make her apologies to Jack Hastings for her unseemly and unjust accusations, whether or not it cleared the air between them.
Over the next hour she danced, smiled, chatted and deflected a number of compliments on the beautifully decorated saloon, explaining that the credit for transforming the area into a sweet-smelling bower with strategically placed tubs of dwarf citrus trees belonged entirely to her mother.
She agreed to go down to supper with her cousin Lucy and Mr. Castle, and listened with glowing eyes as Lucy mentioned that both her parents had now met Lord Exton and found him to be a person of solid worth whose acquaintance they hoped to continue in the future.
She even remembered to search the room periodically for the dreaded appearance of Sir Cyril Mildmay, but these various activities were carried out with only partial engagement of her intellect.
On a subterranean level her mind remained concentrated on the issues of her past and future dealings with Jack Hastings, and it was a constant battle to prevent her perturbation of spirit from manifesting itself in her demeanour.
It was, therefore, with a sense of inevitability that she placed her fingers into Jack’s outstretched hand as they eventually moved on to the dance floor.
Her pulses were racing at the firmness of his grip, her mind teasing away at possible interpretations of the gesture, sternly rejecting an instinctive desire to invest it with significance.
Jack whirled her into the stream of dancers.
For a moment or two she gave herself over to the pleasure of moving in perfect unison to the lilting music without any words passing between them.
It was tempting to luxuriate in the sheer sensual delight of a perfect pairing, but it was also cowardly, so after another blissfully silent moment, she sighed and, looking up, said diffidently, “Would you object to seeking a spot where we may talk, sir? There is something I must say to you.”
He nodded an acquiescence, though a wary expression replaced his former complacence as they strolled off the floor and out into the hallway, where a few small scatterings of chairs provided seating for those interested in audible conversation.
Laura sank on to a chair and turned a pair of anxious eyes on her silent companion.
“I owe you an apology for the things — some of the things — I said to you in the gardens the other day. I … I implied that your … your kind offer was rash and … and based only on liking my looks and not caring about what lies beneath the skin. I had no right to jump to conclusions like that and judge you on the basis of other men’s actions, and I hope you will forgive me.
” Her voice rose at the end, making it a question, and indeed it was not inapropos because he was frowning slightly and no longer looking directly at her.
Horrified lest he should think she was angling to have him repeat his proposal, she rushed to disabuse him of any such ridiculous notion.
“As I said then, I have no thought of marriage, but I do value your friendship. I hope you will believe this and forgive me.”
This time Jack directed the brilliance of his smile on her and said warmly, “No forgiveness is necessary, I assure you. You are not the first to accuse me of being rash — they call me ‘Hasty Jack’, after all. I have felt that we were friends right from the start, but I admit that I do not know you thoroughly as yet. I know more about you now than I did the other day.” He hesitated, seeming to choose his words with care.
“I went to see your mother yesterday when you and your cousin were out shopping.” At her look of alarm, he went on quickly, “She told me about your father and about their marriage, also about your father’s attempt to marry you to your neighbour a few —”
“Mama told you about her marriage?” Laura broke in, her face a study in incredulity. “She has never said a word in disparagement of my father to a living soul, not even to me until very recently.”
“She wished to help me to understand why you seem to hold such an unfavourable opinion of marriage, and I certainly do feel I have increased my understanding of your nature to some —”
“You now know that though I look like my mother, I have my father’s chin and his nasty disposition.” She heard the defiant note in her voice and tried to erase all expression as she stared unblinkingly at him. It was very quiet around them, and she realised that the waltz music had ended.
Jack must have swallowed any impulse to reply to her challenge as a growing murmur of conversation came toward them from the ballroom.
He rose and held out his hand, smiling at her in that intimate fashion that never failed to rouse all her defences.
She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back to the ballroom, though she looked away, saying awkwardly, “I am glad that I did not lose your friendship, Jack.”
“That would not be possible,” he said with a quiet sincerity that had her heart pounding in her throat, but her panic subsided as he turned her over to Mr. Castle, her next partner, with a casual little wave before moving away.
“May I say that you are in especially fine looks this evening, Miss Marsh?” that self-anointed connoisseur of feminine style proclaimed, holding her farther away than the accepted waltz position in order to scrutinise her thoroughly before sweeping her into the dance.
“You may, sir, with my good wishes, as long as you do not expect to find me as proficient at flirtation as my cousin Sophia,” Laura replied amicably, an amused twinkle in her eyes.
“A mere bagatelle; we all have our special talents and limitations. Now I would say that your special talents lie in the practical realm — and on the dance floor, of course,” he finished gallantly.
“Alas, I am afraid you are correct, sir,” she replied with becoming gravity, though surprised by this perspicacity in someone seemingly quite content to be dismissed as an amusing rattle by society in general.
“Do not apologise; you will undoubtedly be an enormous asset to your fortunate husband, whoever he might be.”
Laura chuckled at this but refused to indulge his curiosity.
In fact, her attention had been transfixed by the sight of her mother’s radiant face as she whirled by in the arms of Lord Exton, himself no mean performer in the waltz.
This must be the first time Annabelle had been persuaded on to a dance floor this spring, and Laura knew her mother had never looked lovelier.
So this is how a woman looks when she knows she is loved!
The conviction came unbidden as Laura’s gaze followed the progress of her mother and the man who had loved her in the past and would love her in the future.
Suddenly her eyes locked on to Lord Exton’s as he spun out of the main flow of dancers.
She saw a question in his, and had not long to wait for enlightenment, as he was scheduled to be her next partner.
She curtsied to him in the country dance, smiling faintly, saying nothing.
Lord Exton’s usual savoir faire was missing tonight; there was an air of uncertainty about him at the moment.
As they circled each other, his glance sought hers, then disengaged immediately with a brief smile.
As they joined hands to promenade, he gave a little laugh.
“I am persuaded it will come as no surprise to you that I have become very … fond of your mother,” he began.
“Only fond?” Laura opened her eyes wide and waited.
His face relaxed into a relieved smile. “Much more than fond,” he admitted softly. “Twenty-one years ago your grandfather refused me permission to pay my addresses to his daughter. I am hoping you will be more generous, my dear Laura.”
Unmindful of ballroom etiquette, Laura stopped, reached up and planted a kiss on the surprised earl’s cheek before seizing his hands and stepping back into the march. “Nothing could please me more, and I have always wished for a brother. May I wish you both happy?”