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‘I had a feeling he might turn up,’ Verity whispered with an arch look for her friend.
Elise smiled wryly. ‘I had a feeling Hugh Kendrick might turn up.’
‘He has been giving Bea some fond looks,’ Verity interpreted the hint.
‘She likes him, too.’ Elise sighed. ‘She has barely let a waking hour pass without mention of him since they met at Vauxhall.’
‘You don’t approve?’
‘Oh...I like him very well; he seems charming and sincere...’ Elise’s praise withered away. How could she think him sincere when he had proved himself a fortune hunter too craven to meet Lady Lonesome in person? But, on reflection, Elise adhered to her first assessment of his character. Hugh Kendrick was not a bad person, she was sure of it, just as her sister was not dishonest in scheming to get a husband and family to love and cherish. Unfortunate circumstances and soulful yearnings could make good people act foolishly.
‘But you don’t think anything will come of it?’ Verity asked.
‘How can it when neither of them has a bean?’ Elise gave a hopeless gesture.
‘Perhaps this evening Bea might catch the eye of a fellow in a position to propose.’ Verity gave her friend’s arm an encouraging pat.
‘And if such a gentleman comes up to scratch, will she accept him now she is smitten?’ Elise was frowning at the sight of her sister gazing dreamily in Hugh Kendrick’s direction.
‘My mama wasn’t very optimistic about such a notable turning up.’ Caro Clemence had nudged Elise, then drawn her aside to murmur that in her ear. ‘But I said if we received an acceptance from the Chapmans then there was a very good chance Viscount Blackthorne might come along. He is very attractive, isn’t he?’
‘Mmm,’ Elise replied neutrally. She was aware eyes had turned on her as soon as he passed over the threshold. He’d devoted time to her at the pleasure gardens and started chins wagging. Had the reasons for his attention circulated...none of her party would have been invited here this evening. Of course, the viscount would have been welcomed in with open arms. Little disgrace would have attached to him following the exposure of their night-time tryst in the bushes.
‘He seemed to take a fancy to you at Vauxhall.’ Caro went on to prove Elise’s concerns valid. ‘I know my mama would be ecstatic if he were to come calling on me.’
There was no hint of envy or malice in the belle of the ball’s limpid gaze. ‘And you?’ Elise asked. ‘How would you feel?’
‘Disappointed.’ Caro wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh...I know he is such a wonderful catch, but—’ She glanced at a group of young army officers resplendent in their scarlet uniforms. One of the fellows, who looked little more than nineteen, appeared to be blushing and peering their way. ‘I have a sweetheart, but my parents know nothing about it, nor would they approve if they did.’ She pulled an unhappy little face. ‘They like Wilfred well enough as my brother’s friend, but as a son-in-law they would find him sadly lacking—no money, you see.’
‘It seems to be the way of things.’ Elise gave Caro a sympathetic smile. On turning about, she found the Chapmans and her aunt’s party had moved some yards away to talk to new arrivals.
‘How are you this evening, Miss Dewey?’
‘Very well, sir, thank you.’ Elise darted a glance up into a startlingly handsome face, her heart racing.
She hadn’t realised that Alex had strolled closer, then casually cut off her path to her group of friends. When last they’d met, in twilight broken only by palely flickering lamps, Elise had not noticed what he wore other than to recall he’d had an aura of wealth and distinction. Now, under the sharp crystal light of the chandeliers she realised he was magnificently attired in snug-fitting evening clothes cut from smooth charcoal-coloured cloth. A grey-silk cravat sat atop an ice-white shirt, its intricate folds pinned in place by an oval diamond the size of a button.
Alex’s lips tilted in wry humour as he noticed her innocent admiration. ‘And you look very nice, too,’ he murmured, his eyes slipping over her slender, satin-clad figure.
Elise had chosen to have a dress made up in an amber hue. It matched her eyes, Mrs Chapman had said. The woman had been glad, too, that it was not a colour that any of the other girls had wanted or there might have been a delay in getting the gowns finished while good-natured bickering over fabrics continued. The modiste had done sterling work to deliver the clothes earlier that day after such a short time.
