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‘No, she is not,’ Hebe said with some force. ‘But she expected you to stay with her.’
‘And leave you. Yes, I noticed. Just because she is pretty…’
‘Pretty? Why, Charlotte is the acknowledged beauty this season.’
Alex looked down at her, a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘I will give you a hint. Next time you are asked to admire a beautiful woman, ask yourself what she is going to look like when she is forty—better still, look at her mother—and think again.’ He glanced around. ‘Now I think I had better circulate or I will be in trouble with my hostess for being a bad guest. May I take you into supper later?’
Hebe, who knew that Sara Carlton must be watching them with unalloyed delight, blushed and nodded. ‘Yes, please. Now, to whom shall I introduce you?’
Hebe left Alex with a boisterous circle of naval officers, who soon absorbed him into a discussion of the best way to handicap a race between a goat and a sheep that someone had proposed, and began to circulate amongst the guests.
Normally Hebe enjoyed parties, even ones like this one where she had to worry about whether there were accidents in the kitchen, the wine had run out or an ancient dowager was neglected and in need of someone to talk to. There were always people to watch, stories and problems would be confided to her and she might even indulge in a little quiet matchmaking.
Now she found herself an object of interest. She was aware people were watching her and suspected that they were talking also. Were her friends jealous because of the attention Alex Beresford had paid her? Were they laughing to see Miss Carlton all dressed up with powder on her face? It did not occur to her that while the young ladies were indeed jealous, and curious, the older matrons—unless they had daughters of their own to puff off—were pleased to see how dear Hebe had emerged from her shell. And the young gentlemen were startled to see good old Hebe not as a sympathetic honorary older sister, but an uncommonly taking young lady.
But the object of their attention realised none of this until she heard Lady Ordleigh remark to Mrs Winston, ‘Whatever has happened to little Hebe? Why, the child has suddenly blossomed.’
Hebe, unseen behind them, held her breath. ‘Indeed she has. I would never have thought to describe her as pretty, but she is tonight: look at the young men watching her. Now, what has caused this, I wonder?’
The object of their speculation crept away in amazement. She found a small group who were chatting together and with an effort joined in the conversation. Without Alex to talk to she was feeling strangely flustered, almost panicky. Any moment now someone would see she was an impostor and say…
‘Would you like to have supper now, Hebe?’ She gave a little start, turning from the small knot of people with whom she had been talking. It was Alex Beresford, smiling at her. He was half a head taller than any of the other men in the group, his scarlet coat a startling contrast to the blue uniform of the naval officers, his saturnine dark looks almost sinister against their weatherbeaten, cheerful faces.
‘Oh! Major…yes, please. Will you excuse me?’ She smiled at the others. ‘I had best eat now in case Mama needs any help.’ She took Alex’s arm, but as soon as they reached the hall he steered her, not into the dining room which was already resounding with the sound of clinking cutlery and animated talk, but out into the garden.
Hebe protested faintly, but was inexorably borne into the depths of the shrubbery until they were quite out of sight.
‘What is the matter, Circe?’ Alex turned her so he could see her face in the light of the lanterns which lit the winding paths. ‘You are as white as a sheet and I do believe there are tears in your eyes. Has one of those little cats been spiteful?’
‘No, everyone has been very kind. It is just that I am not used…’ Her voice failed her. It was ridiculous, she was going to cry.
‘Not used to parties? Surely not? You are such a good hostess.’ His hands were resting lightly on her shoulders and his touch felt warm and reassuring.
‘Not used to being…pretty. People are looking at me.’ She dropped her gaze. Now she had said it she felt ridiculous. Now he would laugh at her.
But Major Beresford shook his head reprovingly. ‘You were not attending to me the other day, Hebe. Not pretty—enchanting. You have always been enchanting, it is just that you have never cared to exercise the enchantment. No wonder you feel so shaky, releasing all that power.’
Now he was laughing at her, but Hebe did not mind. She smiled at him, blinking back the tears. ‘Is that what it is? No, you are teasing me.’
‘Only a little bit. Now, what would make you feel better?’
‘A glass of wine?’ Hebe suggested. She rarely drank any, but it felt like a good idea now.
Alex’s blue eyes remained thoughtfully on her. ‘Perhaps, in a moment, but first, I think…’ And he gathered her to him and kissed her.
Hebe had never been kissed before. She had never
met anyone she wanted to kiss, for it always looked an embarrassing and rather uncomfortable process.
Now she felt neither embarrassed nor the slightest bit uncomfortable. But it was all very strange. Alex’s mouth was gentle on hers, both firm and warm. It seemed to be asking her questions in a silent language she did not understand, but which she very much wanted to speak too. His hands held her securely to him and she could feel the heat of him against her skin, the beat of his heart where her hand rested against his chest. He smelled wonderful: citrus and sandalwood and an indefinably male scent all of his own.
Her body was reacting in entirely new ways, giving her incomprehensible messages, telling her to move against him. She felt too shy to obey the urge, but if he kept on kissing her she surely would…
Alex raised his head and looked down at her closed eyes. ‘Hebe?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Open your eyes.’ She did so, blinking, and looked directly into his blue gaze, which held an expression that was quite unfamiliar but which made her mouth go dry. ‘Now, will you forget about being pretty?’
