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‘And concentrate on being Circe?’ She smiled at him trustingly, wondering if her heart was going to stop thudding.
‘I do not know what you have turned me into,’ Alex said ruefully, turning her within the circle of his arms until she was held lightly against his side. She could not see his face.
‘Not a swine,’ Hebe assured him, wishing he had not stopped kissing her.
‘Probably a wolf,’ Alex retorted. ‘That is what your mama would say if she could see us now. Come along, back inside and tempt me with lobster patties.’
‘How do you know there are any?’ Hebe challenged him as they stepped back through the door and he dropped his arm from her shoulders.
‘I took the precaution of looking at the buffet earlier. Always scout ahead is a good military maxim.’ They reached the door of the dining room and as they passed through a young woman with rich chestnut hair caught up on top of her head passed the far end of the table, her back to them. Alex stopped dead as though he had hit a barrier.
‘Major?’ Hebe looked at him in surprise, but his face revealed nothing.
‘I am sorry, Miss Carlton, a sudden cramp in the calf.’ Then the moment passed and they were in the room, exchanging conversation with other guests, helping themselves from the temping platters of food.
But Hebe’s forehead was creased by a small line. Had she imagined it, or had Alex whispered ‘Clarissa!’ in the moment when he had halted so abruptly?
He seemed to recover his composure the moment they were inside the room, and Hebe wondered if she had been imagining things. She took care to introduce him to the red-headed young woman at the earliest opportunity, but his face gave nothing away and he chatted to her and her escort, an officer of Dragoons, for quite five minutes without displaying the slightest concern.
After supper Alex took her back into the salon and gave her a gentle push. ‘Now go on, practise enchantment on that poor Captain of Marines over there. He looks miserable having to talk to the chaplain.’
Hebe did not think him serious, but before she knew what she was about the Captain was asking if she would be at Mrs Forrester’s ball and the chaplain was enquiring if he might have the honour of a country dance. ‘For I hardly care to waltz, Miss Carlton.’
‘Oh, indeed not, Dr Paulin,’ she agreed earnestly. ‘I am sure you are right: someone in your position must set an example. But I would be delighted to join a measure with you.’
Alex passed at that moment, apparently talking to Miss Smithson about the best place in London to have a harp restrung, but he glanced up, caught Hebe’s eye and his own creased in an encouraging smile. Hebe smiled back, all her earlier awkwardness and butterflies forgotten, except for that puzzling moment in the dining room. Who was Clarissa?
But she forgot the incident as the evening continued and at last the guests called for their carriages, chairs and linkboys, and vanished into the warm night.
The two Carlton ladies slowly climbed the stairs, arm in arm, sank down on the daybed in Sara’s room, eased off their shoes and sighed happily in unison.
‘My dear Hebe,’ Mrs Carlton declared, ‘I swear I have never been in such charity with you! What an evening: you were so admired, even that old pussy Mrs Winston complimented me upon you. And as for Major Beresford, why, he is positively smitten.’
‘Everyone was very kind,’ Hebe conceded, certain that the fact she had received her first kiss must be blazoned across her forehead.
‘Well, I will not say any more, for I expect you are feeling quite strange after such an evening,’ her stepmother replied with unusual perception. ‘But we must build on this success: Mrs Forrester’s ball will be crucial. We must give the utmost care and thought to your new gown. Palest lemon silk with white gauze? Or cream with a floss trim? Or…’ Hebe’s eyelids began to droop. ‘We will talk about it tomorrow. Now, off to bed with you, dear.’
Hebe sank between the cool linen sheets with a sigh of relief and was almost instantly asleep. But behind her closed lids dreams chased each other through the night and a tall girl with her brown hair unbound and wearing only a Grecian tunic whirled and danced in the arms of a tall, dark, beautiful man with fierce blue eyes.
Chapter Six
Both Mrs and Miss Carlton expected the early appearance of Major Beresford on their doorstep, and once again they were disappointed. But on this occasion Mrs Carlton at least declared herself satisfied with the reason.
Sir Richard arrived the afternoon after the party to inform her that he would be absent from her dinner table for the rest of the week and to deliver a note from the Major.
She broke the seal and spread open the crackling sheet of paper. ‘How well he expresses his thanks for our soirée, and apologises that duty prevents him from calling in person,’ she declared after conning the contents. ‘The more I know Major Beresford, the more impressed I am by his manners and character.’
Hebe kept her eyes down on her sewing, trying to ignore the constriction of her throat that hearing Alex’s name provoked. Her stepmama hesitated, then passed over a small, folded piece of paper, which had been inside the letter. ‘This is addressed to you, Hebe. I suppose I should read it, but I know I can trust you to behave prudently.’
The note seemed to curl within Hebe’s fingers as though it had a life of its own. She looked at it. ‘Miss Carlton’ it said in a strong hand. Slowly she unfolded it, knowing full well that her mama would expect her to repeat its contents: no chaperon would dream of allowing an unmarried girl to receive private notes from a man, and Mama was being most indulgent in not opening it first.
C., it read, I have gone fishing and will be away for several days. I have remembered to pack those items which you advised me to take. A.
‘He says he is away on duty for several days, Mama,’ she said, holding out the note.
‘Oh, dear, that is a pity,’ Sara Carlton said comfortably, making no effort to take it. She was far too pleased that the Major had written to Hebe to wish to disconcert the girl by insisting on prying. It was not as though Hebe had ever shown the slightest inclination to behave lightly or imprudently with a man—far from it. If she could be encouraged to flirt a little, it might help fix the Major’s interest.
With a thankful sigh, Hebe folded up the note and slipped it under her sewing. Sir Richard glanced at the clock and got to his feet hastily. ‘My goodness, look at the time! Hebe, my dear, would you care to walk a little with me?’
