Page 52 of The Cornish Mermaid

She neatly disengaged herself from young Henry Lockhart, and approached across the crowded hall. “Ysella! Kit! How lovely to see you here. And Lady Ormonde, how charming you look in that color. It so suits your complexion. My mother will be overjoyed to see you.”

Her soft brown eyes moved on and settled on Morvoren, full of sparkling curiosity.

Morvoren returned her gaze, as curious about Miss Fairfield as she seemed to be about her.

Kit smiled, a genuine, friendly smile, and with a shock Morvoren realized that something existed between these two. Could it be love? How would she feel if it was?

Kit took Caroline’s hand. “Caro, how lovely to see you. May I introduce Ysella’s friend, Miss Morvoren Lucas?” He paused, looking at Morvoren. “And Miss Lucas, may I introduce Miss Caroline Fairfield, an old family friend.”

But was that all she was? The green goblin of jealousy rose in Morvoren’s heart, much to her surprise. And embarrassment.

“Miss Lucas, how lovely to meet you,” Caroline said, and, releasing Kit, she held out her elegantly gloved hand.

After an infinitesimal pause, Morvoren took the offered hand in hers and shook it. “And you, Miss Fairchild.”

“Oh, do please call me Caroline,” Miss Fairchild said, her smile surprisingly friendly. “Everyone else does, and it feels so stuffy to be called Miss Fairchild—as though I were an old maid on the shelf.”

Ysella’s eyes twinkled. “I’m sure you will never be that.”

Did she mean Caroline and Kit would soon be marrying? Morvoren looked up at Kit, but he was staring over their heads further into the hall toward where music was cascading through a pair of wide double doors.

“I see Rafe Huxley over there. I’ll leave you ladies in Mama’s safe hands. If you’ll excuse me?” And he was gone.

Well, at least he didn’t seem to have shown much interest in remaining by Caroline’s side. That was a blessing.

Lady Ormonde shook her head in what looked like exasperation. Perhaps she too was wondering why Kit hadn’t hung about near the young lady she’d selected for him as a bride. Morvoren couldn’t help the smug feeling welling up inside her. Which was quite ridiculous as there was no way she could have Kit herself.

“This way, girls,” Lady Ormonde said, wielding her fan. “We shall go into the ballroom and see which young men are present, and I shall find dear Diana.”

“Caro’s mama,” Ysella hissed. “My mama’s dearest friend.”

Lady Ormonde shepherded all three of her charges into the ballroom, an enormous, gilt encrusted room with tables and chairs around the edges and dancers already prancing elegantly in the middle to the accompaniment of an ensemble of musicians. Wide-eyed at the spectacle, Morvoren allowed herself to be guided toward one side, where a redoubtable matron stood talking to an elderly gentleman.

They stopped talking as Lady Ormonde approached and both turned to face her, a wide smile on the lady’s face and a slight frown on the old gentleman’s, as though he were having trouble placing them all. Why did Morvoren get the impression the frown was directed at her?

“Diana, my dear,” Lady Ormonde exclaimed, and was off into a flurry of introductions in explanation of why she had arrived with so attractive a stranger in her party. “And may I introduce Lord Russell, who is our member of Parliament and also a local magistrate.”

Lord Russell, who must have been over seventy, eyed Morvoren through a single eyeglass, that one eye magnified alarmingly to look much larger than the other. “Well, demmit, you’re a fine-looking young woman,” he said. “If I were twenty years younger, I’d be takin’ you out onto the dance floor right now, Miss Lucas. You mark my words.”

This clearly required a reply. “Why thank you, sir,” Morvoren managed, groping for polite words but very glad he wasn’t twenty years younger as that would still have made him old enough to be her father. “I’m sure I would’ve enjoyed dancing with you very much.” She was improving at polite banter.

He tapped his right foot with his silver-topped walking stick “Gout, m’dear, or by gum I’d still be makin’ a try for you.” And he winked at her.

“Ysella, Miss Lucas!”

Morvoren swung her head around and for once was glad to see Captain Carlyon coming their way, clad also in the bright red of a soldier’s dress uniform. And very handsome he looked in it as well. If she hadn’t come across him previously and taken his measure, she might have been tempted into finding him attractive.

He bowed to Lady Ormonde and Mrs. Diana Fairfield, who gave the slightest of curtseys back. “Aunt Elestren, Mrs. Fairfield, you put the young ladies to shame. If only I were ten years older.”

“You flatterer,” Mrs. Fairfield said, batting her fan rapidly. “I know you’re here to engage the girls in a dance, not us, so get on with it. You have no need to practice your fancy words on two old ladies.”

Lady Ormonde chuckled. “Mind who you are classing as an old lady, Diana. I feel I could dance till dawn with any of the young men here tonight.”

Before Captain Carlyon could continue though, another of the older ladies swept across the ballroom to them, the three-foot-long feathers perched in her hair waving in the breeze of her passage. “Elestren, my dear, thank you so much for coming. A ball at Denby would be nothing without you.” She bestowed an indulgent smile on the Captain. “Fitz, my dear, as if I wouldn’t know where to find you—dancing attendance on the prettiest girls in the room.”

The captain bestowed a smart bow on this woman. “Mama.”

So this was his mother, the flighty young thing who’d run off with a penniless army officer for love.