“Yes, I met her just tonight.”
Lord Vincent chuckled. “Did you see the gown she was wearing? The poor girl looked really ugly.”
Felicity flinched, glancing up at him in shock. “I… I beg your pardon?”
“So many ruffles are rarely becoming, especially in that particular lady. Now ifyouwere to wear a gown like that, Miss Thornhill, I think you’d look delightful,” he continued blithely. “Some ladies do sweat a great deal more, so I daresay at the end of the evening she’ll look like awilted flower in the summer heat.”
“Lord Vincent!” Felicity broke out, shocked.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Ladies don’t sweat, do they? Theyperspire. I daresay poor Miss Elliot will beperspiringa great deal by the end of the evening. I wonder that her maid didn’t say something when she chose that dress. Oh, and look at what Sir Rufus is wearing. What an awful shade of yellow!”
He talked on for a moment or two, making unkind comments about various persons’ looks and clothing choices. Felicity stopped responding, but it seemed that Lord Vincent was too carried away by his own wit.
His cruel words about Miss Elliot had shocked her. Miss Elliot was a plump young woman, but pretty with it, and even if she wasn’t, such remarks sat poorly with Felicity, like a heavy, undigested meal in her stomach.
“I must say, I don’t envy you,” he was saying next, and Felicity forced herself to pay attention. She was still going to have to dance with him, after all.
“Hm?”
“Staying with the Langleys, I mean. Lord Lanwood –Arthur, that is, I don’t feel right calling him alord– is so dreadfully unpleasant. He was never much fun, not even before he got that nasty scar on his face.”
“I heard that he got it at war,” she heard herself say. “I heard that he was remarkably brave.”
Lord Vincent snorted derisively, throwing back the last of his punch. Felicity wondered how many cups of punch he’d already had, not to mention the glasses of champagne.
“He was probably looking the wrong way and just got unlucky,” Lord Vincent said, and this time there was a distinctive, unattractive layer of bitterness in his voice. “War heroes are rarely what they say.”
“Perhaps not, but I don’t think Lord Lanwood’s scar is so very bad.”
Lord Vincent shot her a sharp look. His expression was fully unpleasant, until he remembered where he was and smoothed it away.
“You’re a kind little thing, aren’t you? Kind or blind, I’d say. It looks as though you could unbutton his face and look right into his head. Look at the way people stare at him. It’s frankly unsightly, to be truthful. If I looked like that, I’d lock myself away from the world and never show my face again.”
As he spoke, he tossed back his hair, combing his fingers through it almost unconsciously. A wave of distaste washed over Felicity. She cleared her throat, finishing her punch.
The awkward silence didn’t stretch out between them for too long. The musicians started up, and the couples began to take their parts on the dance floor.
Lord Lanwood smiled down at Lucy, holding out his arm, and they took their places at the head of the set. When Felicity glanced over at her partner, she saw blatant dislike on Lord Vincent’s face.
It was gone in a moment, of course, and he beamed down at Felicity. The warm, tugging feeling in her chest was entirely gone when he looked at her. This time, when ladies stared enviously at her, she felt like telling them not to worry – that they could swap places with her, if they liked.
Just get through this dance,she thought morosely.That’s all. It won’t last forever.
Chapter Six
It had been a while since Arthur had danced. Too long, really. He smiled down at Lucy, spinning her deftly around. He had always been agooddancer, after all.
It was a jig, bright and easy, and the steps came to his feet almost without him having to think about it. Lucy was easy to dance with, and it was good to see a smile on her face again. She’d grieved hard for the death of her father, and it hurt Arthur to see.
He tried not to notice the couple beside them.
It wasn’t a surprise to see Lord Vincent off charming Miss Thornhill. His ways hadn’t worked with Lucy, but he supposed that Vincent knew that he, Arthur, would do whatever he could to stop Lucy marrying Vincent.
Not so with Miss Thornhill.Shewas her own person and could do as she liked. Although, was it his imagination, or did Miss Thornhill seem much less impressed by Vincent now than she had earlier? She wasn’t smiling and laughing up at him, wasn’t glancing at him with that dumbstruck, nervy expression.
Her face was closed now. A faint smile played over her lips, as propriety demanded, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Lord Vincent’s dancing was sloppy, probably due a combination of the champagne and punch he’d already drunk, as well as the knowledge that his flirtation wasn’t going as well as he hoped.
The dance was drawing to an end, though. It would be the first of many. Arthur knew, with a sinking heart, that his guests would expect to dance until dawn, wearing out their dancing slippers.
