Page 52 of Debtor’s Daughter

Aunt Connie chuckled and tapped his arm playfully with her fan. “Wicked fellow. I know your tricks, so don’t go trying to make a conquest of me. I am far too old for your tarradiddles. My servant, indeed!”

“But I am,” Ash said mournfully, pressing his hand to his heart. “Only command me and I shall obey.”

“Very well, I command you to waltz with me at the very first opportunity,” Connie retorted, the gleam of challenge alight in her green eyes.

Miss Caroline moaned softly and looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but here. Mrs Finchley, however, whom Larkin might have expected to step in and restrain her aunt’s more outspoken behaviour, seemed curiously silent, which only made him more concerned for her state of mind. Happily, Ash was enjoying himself enormously and Narcissa, too used to her husband’s sense of humour, watched with an indulgent smile.

“I accept your challenge. You may pencil me in, and then my honour will be redeemed,” Ash replied gravely.

“Come along, you dreadful creature,” his wife said, looking at him with fond amusement. “I had best stop you from plaguing these poor ladies and return us to our seats. I believe the next act is about to begin. You must call upon us soon,” Lady Narcissa insisted as she dragged a reluctant Ash from the box.

“You may depend upon it,” Aunt Connie replied gaily, waving a coquettish hand at her new friend as he was pulled away.

“Auntie!” Miss Caroline said, her tone reproving as she stared at her aunt as if she’d never seen her before.

“What?” Aunt Connie said innocently and returned her attention to the stage.

The rest of the evening proceeded enjoyably. The production was excellent and most exciting, and the Misses Merrivale filled the journey home with delighted chatter about the performance, about their new acquaintances and the pleasure of knowing they would meet the handsome young men again tomorrow. Their joy was contagious and therefore contrasted sharply with Mrs Finchley’s silence. She watched her family with quiet amusement, but sorrow seemed to linger in the air around her, not that her sister or aunt remarked upon it.

Larkin wondered if he was being arrogant to assume that sorrow was his fault and promptly chastised himself. For Mrs Finchley had reasons enough to mourn, and his thoughtless behaviour was only a part of that. Perhaps the final straw, he thought bitterly, and promised himself he would do whatever it took to make her smile and see her eyes sparkle once more.