Lady Marksworth peered out the window and then sat back, smiling. “Well, well,” she said, “Hampton and Lockwood. Did I not say they would all turn up?”
Cassandra’s heart sank. She did not know if all six gentlemen of the pact would arrive, but at least two of them already had.
*
Edwin had justexperienced his first irritation of the night. Mercury, though well used to the sounds of war, was apparently less used to the sound of a line of expensive carriages all lurching forward together.
It had been an embarrassment to struggle with his mount in such a fashion. One of the many embarrassments to come, no doubt.
Of course, it had not gone unnoticed, he’d seen a curtain pull back and a pretty face staring at him. Damn pretty, in fact. He’d always had a weakness for a heart-shaped face.
He reminded himself that the ball would be full of pretty faces, like so many jewels scattered across a velvet-lined box. That was precisely why his father would force him to attend such occasions—every English rose in the country had descended upon London for the season. His father was well aware that he’d not recently spent any time in places where a proper English rose could be found.
After Waterloo and their narrow victory, Edwin had returned home and sought to forget what he’d seen that day, and all the days he’d followed Wellington. He’d been in the habit of haunting places proper ladies had never heard of, or if they had heard of them, would never own it. The women he encountered in those low places had helped him through many an hour, blotting out the uncomfortable pictures of war that still lingered in his memory. Where those women were all laughter and amusement and only demanding a few pounds payment, the ladies at this ball would be all discreet smiles cloaking steely determination to get their hands onallof his pounds, permanently.
Edwin felt as if he prepared to cross the enemy’s line. He must be on his guard. He could not be distracted by a pretty face. He would accomplish the incursion—turn up, dance with a suitable number of ladies, encourage none of them, and slip away unscathed.
He would buy time to develop a real plan of escape.
*
Lady Marksworth andLady Blanding had escorted their charges through the chaos of being introduced to the Bergrams, depositing their cloaks in the cloak room, and collecting dance cards. The ladies had then settled themselves at a table and left Cassandra and Sybil to stand at the edges of the ballroom floor.
As far as Cassandra was concerned, it was the most uncomfortable moment of any ball. The ladies must stand there, like so many apples in a grocer’s bin, and wait to be selected. This was even worse than the Tremanes’ ball, where she’d been swiftly introduced to nearly every gentleman by her aunt. Here, there was not one, but several, masters of ceremonies, who walked with every willing gentleman to provide introductions before a dance was claimed.
No lady could begin to relax until the first had been taken. One might carry on with certain holes in one’s card, as long as it was not the first or before supper. No lady willingly sat out the first set and it would be clear to anybody who viewed such a thing that the lady had not been asked. To be unescorted into supper… well, she supposed if that ever happened to her, she would hide in the retiring room and hope her absence had not been noted.
To Sybil, she said softly, “At such a moment, one lives in terror of being overlooked, and ofnotbeing overlooked.”
Sybil laughed behind her fan. “You are in little danger of being overlooked, Cass.”
Cassandra did not know if that were quite true. Though she had felt she had measured up well at the Tremanes’, she now realized that there had been far fewer ladies there and so they’dallmeasured up well. This ballroom was rapidly becoming a sea of beautiful faces. While she had no illusions about her looks, and judged them pretty in the usual way, they did not compare to some of these ladies. Where did they all come from?
She spotted a master of ceremonies very determinedly heading in their direction, followed by the two men who’d made such a show on horseback.
Softly, she said, “Oh no, it is two of them.”
“What?” Sybil whispered hurriedly, “which two?”
Before Cassandra could answer, the three gentlemen were before her. The master’s sonorous voice intoned, “Miss Knightsbridge, daughter of Viscount Trebly, Lady Sybil Hayworth, daughter of the Earl of Blanding, may I introduce Lord Hampton, son of the Duke of Carlisle, and Lord Lockwood, son of the Duke of Gravesley.”
Cassandra curtsied, the gentlemen bowed, and the master walked off to search out new victims.
As Cassandra rose, she could not but help admit to herself that Lord Hampton was the most handsome man she’d yet seen in London. His height, his broad shoulders, his dark hair and dark eyes, his tanned skin, as if he spent a deal of time out of doors. If only he were not to be a duke or involved in that ridiculous pact. How might she view him if he were only to live as a Viscount or Baron in some pleasant spot in England with a father not so much in a hurry to marry him off?
She dismissed those thoughts, as they were fantasy and she must face the reality of this man. A reality she meant to keep herself well clear of.
“May I?” Lord Hampton said, holding his hand out for her card. She handed it over and noted Sybil doing the very same to Lord Lockwood. She and her friend were a pair—they’d so boldly talked of avoiding the gentlemen of the pact, and here they were meekly handing over their cards. Still, she did not see what else they could do.
Lord Hampton filled in his name for the first, bowed and walked off. Cassandra supposed she should be relieved that the first was claimed, regardless of who had claimed it. She could also be grateful that the lord had not lingered. She noted him tap another master and approach another lady. And then another. He was moving through the operation in a military fashion and it relieved her to know that she was not at all marked as singular. It was clear enough that Lord Hampton sought to do his duty and be done with it.
After Lord Lockwood had moved on, and he had not taken himself off with the incredible speed of Lord Hampton, Cassandra said, “Our well-laid plans have crumbled to dust.”
“I rather think,” Lady Sybil said, “they were not particularly well-laid to begin. I cannot imagine how we did not foresee that refusing a man a dance would be difficult. I suppose I had some vague idea of dashing from place to place so that none of them could catch up to me.”
“Ah well,” Cassandra said, “perhaps we might comfort ourselves in the idea that it is only a dance. Neither of us will have to go into supper with them.”
Cassandra watched both lords put their names on various cards and wondered who that lady would be that would find herself escorted into supper by a gentleman of the pact. She noticed that the ladies who were approached by the two gentlemen appeared rather delighted, but then she could not know their real feelings. They might only wear a mask of politeness, just as she did herself.
