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"She is simply high-spirited," I protest.
"I've made you angry," Simon says.
"No, you haven't," I lie, though I don't know why I pretend I'm not angry.
"Yes, I have. It was most ungentlemanly of me. If you were a man, I'd allow you a pistol to defend her honor," he says, with that devilish half smile of his.
"If I were a man, I should take it," I say."But I would be sure to miss."
Simon laughs at this. "Miss Doyle, London is a far more interesting place with you in it."
The dance ends, and Simon escorts me from the floor, promising to ask for another when my card allows it. Ann and Felicity rush to my side, insisting I accompany them to the other room for lemonade. With Mrs. Bowles in tow, we pass through the rooms, arms linked, gossiping quickly and quietly. ". . . and then she said I was far too young to wear my dress so low and she might very well not have had me come at all if she knew I was to shame her in such a public fashion and the blue silk dress is ruined . . . ," Felicity babbles.
"She isn't angry with me, is she?" Ann asks, her face a picture of worry."You did tell her I tried to stop you?"
"You needn't worry so. Your reputation is intact. Besides, Father came to my defense and Mother backed down at once. She'd never stand up to him. . . ."
The ballroom opens onto the room that has been set aside for refreshments. We sip our lemonade, which feels cool. Despite the winter chill, we are warm with dancing and excitement. Ann's looking anxiously toward the ballroom. When the music starts again, she jumps for her dance card.
"Is that the quadrille?"
"No," I say ."Sounds like another waltz."
"Oh, thank heaven. Tom has asked me to dance the quadrille. I wouldn't want to miss it."
Felicity is momentarily stunned. "Tom?"
Ann's beaming."Yes. He said he wanted to hear all about my uncle and how I came to be a lady. Oh, Gemma, do you think he likes me?"
What have we done? What will happen when the ruse is discovered? I've an uneasy feeling about it."Do you truly like him?"
"Very much. He is so . . . respectable."
I choke on the pulp in my lemonade.
"How are you faring with Mr. Middleton?" Felicity asks.
"He is a most accomplished dancer," I say. I'm torturing them, of course.
Felicity swats me playfully with her dance card. "That is all you have to say? He is a very accomplished dancer?" "Do tell," Ann presses. Mrs. Bowles has caught up to us. Now she hovers near, hoping for a bit of conversation, a bite of scandal.
"Oh, dear, I've a rip in my gown," I say.
Ann angles her body to look at my skirt. "Where? I don't see one."
Felicity catches on. "Oh, yes. We must get you to the cloakroom at once. One of the maids can mend it. Don't mind us, Mrs. Bowles!"
Before our chaperone can say a word, Felicity spirits us away, down a flight of stairs till we're in a small conservatory.
"Well?"
"He is very lovely. It's as if I've known him all my life," I say.
"He doesn't care much for me," Felicity says.
Does she know what he's said to me about her? I blush thinking of how I could have come more to her defense."Why do you say that?"
"He meant to court me. I refused him last year, and he's never forgiven me."
