Page 10 of A Hint of Scandal

“Who on earth do you think you are?” had been her scathing words. “You are not to put yourself forward, as I’ve already told you. Anyone would think you were out to catch yourself a man, if only that weren’t so ridiculous a notion.”

Serafina, seething but silent, and with blazing cheeks, had returned upstairs and deprived her gown of all the little extras she and Letty had so carefully stitched on, in a hurry lest Araminta decided not to wait for her. Who knew what naughtiness Letty might get up to if allowed the sort of free rein her mother might not notice.

Now, Araminta turned to her. “Serafina. Kindly go to the refreshment table and procure me a glass of lemonade. It’s so warm in here, I declare I’m quite parched. Off you go. Hurry yourself. But don’t spill anything.”

Serafina detached herself from where she’d been standing just behind her brother and his wife, and slipped out into the throng of people promenading arm in arm: ladies chattering and gentlemen standing in small defensive groups, eyeing up the young ladies on offer but clearly wary of their matchmaking mamas. The heady perfumes of men and women alike filled the warm air, managing to overlay the unavoidable and singularly less pleasant odor of hot bodies sweating.

A little overcome by the heady feeling of sudden freedom, Serafina took her time as she edged between the press of people. And as she passed between the crowd she could never be one of, she caught snippets of their conversations.

“…and I said who on earth would have thought she would do that…”

“…I’ll lay five guineas you wouldn’t dare…”

“…how much did you say it cost?”

“…that horse of Buxton’s is a flyer…”

“…did you see Westbury’s brother? Back from the war with his right arm in a sling. Stuck like that forever, so they say. Poor chap…”

“…that girl’s a diamond of the first water, you mark my words…’ She smiled a bit as she heard this last remark. The men in question were definitely not talking about her.

She made it to the refreshment table at last, where glasses already holding lemonade stood ready to be taken. Perhaps she’d best take two, as Ogden was likely to decide he too was thirsty if she arrived back with just the one. She picked up two glasses and turned.

Straight into the man behind her. The lemonade slopped over the top of the glasses and down not just the front of her gown, but also the front of the gentleman’s brocade waistcoat and onto the sling his right arm rested in.

Serafina raised horrified eyes to meet his gaze, struck dumb at her own foolishness, but at the same time taking in how handsome the man was. He must have been over six feet tall, with wavy dark hair that might have been said to be a little too long to be fashionable but which gave him a rather swashbuckling look. He was looking down at her out of surprised dark eyes she could quite willingly have melted into.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was pleasingly deep. “I should be looking where I’m going.”

Serafina found her voice with difficulty. “Oh no.” She had to clear her throat. “It was my fault, not yours. I swung around most precipitously without first making certain no one was behind me. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled your lovely waistcoat.”

The lady on his arm, old enough to be his mother, fixed a hard stare on Serafina. No doubt she was in agreement that it was her fault but was too polite to say so. “Come along, Max,” she said. “Once more around the ballroom and it’ll be time to go into supper. Good evening to you, Miss…?”

“Gilbert.” Serafina’s cheeks glowed with embarrassment at what she’d done, and to a man with his arm in a sling too.

“Miss Gilbert,” the man said, in a way no one had ever said her name before. “Captain Max Aubrey at your service. And this is my mother, the Dowager Countess of Westbury. I seem to have inadvertently caused damage to your gown. I’d be happy to pay for it to be cleaned. Or to pay for a new one if you think it past repair.”

Serafina stared at him for a second, remembering what she’d overheard on her way to the refreshments, before letting her gaze drop to her gown front. The lemonade had left a dark mark over the pale gray fabric. “Oh no. It’s nothing. I’ll easily be able to get the mark out. I’m very good at cleaning. No need for you to do anything. It was all my fault. I’m so clumsy.” She really couldn’t let him take the blame for this. “I’m always being reprimanded for not looking where I’m going.”

“Max.” His mother sounded impatient.

The far-too-handsome Captain Max Aubrey, no doubt a wounded war hero, made Serafina a bow. “If you’re certain?”

“I am.” Was her voice shaking just a little?

“Then I must obey my mother and complete our tour of the ballroom. She’s anxious to seek out her old friends. Good evening to you, Miss Gilbert.”

And he was gone.

Serafina stood very still, a glass in each hand, staring after him as he walked away: at his straight back, the broad shoulders filling out his coat in the most satisfying manner, and his martial walk that he’d measured to match his mother’s slower pace. That hair. Those interested dark eyes. That mouth. Good heavens. What was she thinking? A man like that would never be interested in a plain little mouse such as she.

Giving herself a little shake, she set off back to deliver the lemonade to Ogden and Araminta.