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I waited with bated breath, wondering if she would make any remark about my dance with Mr Ambrose, too. But she was so full of my dance with Lord Dalgliesh that she apparently hadn’t even noticed what I had done once that had been over. I had to admit that after a while her profusions on the subject got a bit boring. Not that I had anything against Lord Dalgliesh - no more than against any other person in trousers on this planet - but I definitely did not entertain the thought of marrying him! Instinctively I knew that to him, I was no more than a marionette, just like all the other people in this room and all the people of his company. No more than an instrument to be directed according to his will. That was definitely not the kind of person I wanted to be linked with for the rest of my life.
My aunt was just in the middle of a hymn of praise on Lord Dalgliesh’s taste in dressing, when I had had enough. Rising, I told her with a more than convincingly faked smile:
‘Forgive me, Madam, but I think I am tired of sitting. I will look about and maybe find a pleasant partner to dance with.’
‘Oh yes, my darling, do that, do that! And let it be the right one!’
‘You mean the richest one?’
‘Finally! Finally, you understand my concerns! Oh, Lillian, that I would live to see this day…’ She seemed about to succumb to tears of happiness again. But then, with great restraint, she collected herself and waved me off. ‘Go, go! The next dance is starting, don’t miss your chance, my dear!’
‘Certainly, Madam.’
As quickly as possible, I made my escape. In a corner of the room I spied a nice, big potted plant.
Wonderful! Just what you need to hide behind and take a few minutes’ break before you have to face the ballroom crowd again!
Moving inconspicuously towards my target, I looked left and right to make sure no one was watching and then slid behind the large, dark green plant - only to discover that somebody else had apparently had the same idea.
Ella stumbled back against the wall, giving a little shriek, which immediately cut off when she recognized me.
‘Oh Lilly, thank God it’s you,’ she whispered, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. ‘He isn’t lurking somewhere, is he?’
I took a peek around the potted plant. Wilkins was nowhere in sight.
‘No. At least I don't see him.’
‘Thank God,’ she repeated. ‘I swear to you, if he tries to stick another flower in my hair, I will collapse.’
‘Oh?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you told me… what was it again? Yes, that was it! You told me it was an honour to be courted by such a great noble, didn’t you?’
She blushed. ‘Of course it is! I only meant… I mean… I am very honoured, very honoured indeed. He is paying me an enormous compliment, singling me out like this, and I really, and I… I really am flattered that I among all the ladies should be chosen to be the object of his-’
‘Put a sock in it,’ I told her with a goodly dose of sisterly affection. Ella hung her head, still blushing.
‘You… I…’
‘You don't have to pretend. Not where I’m concerned. Tell me honestly: do you want to marry Sir Philip Wilkins?’
She squirmed. ‘Well… maybe not very much?’
‘So you want to marry him just a little, do you? Maybe just his ring finger and his left foot, and the rest of him can stay a bachelor?’
Ella suddenly seemed to have an intense desire to inspect her feet. She looked down, avoiding my eyes.
‘Um… if you put it that way… no. I don't think I do.’
‘And what about the rest of him?’
She made a minute movement. Among immovable pillars of salt, it might have passed for a headshake.
‘Say it,’ I encouraged her. ‘Do you want to marry Wilkins?’
‘N… n…’
‘Go on! You can do it! Do you want to marry him?’
‘No!’
