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‘Try me!’
I met Ella’s eyes. ‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ I told her, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘This will be very great fun indeed.’
Patsy was true to her threats. Two hours later, I had danced with more men than I cared to remember, and my feet felt about ready to fall off. Plus, I was aching all over from the tightly laced corset. I should never have let my aunt lace me up! My only consolation was that all the men I had danced with were surely nursing their wounded feet right now, suffering just as much pain as yours truly. I had made good use of the heels on my shoes in an honest attempt to produce a ballroom full of foot-puree. But that didn’t stop new men from pestering me with invitations to dance.
Finally, I found a hidden spot behind some floor-length window curtains. As long as the bulge in the curtains, caused by my rather generous derriere, didn’t betray my presence, no passing gentlemen suffering from sudden bouts of dancing mania could find me here. Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the wall.
‘Finally!’ I muttered. ‘Safe!’
The words had hardly left my mouth when the curtain on the other side of the window jerked aside, revealing a man who had been hiding there, just like me, gazing out into the night. He stood there, staring at me. I stared back, in startled recognition.
‘Miss Linton! Is that you?’
Oh Gentle Lady, Spare my Feet…
‘Captain Carter?’ I blinked up at the tall man with the mane of mahogany hair and perky little speck of a beard on his strong, otherwise clean-shaven chin. ‘Is that really you?’
‘In the flesh.’ He swept me a bow just as snappy as the one I remembered from our first meeting. ‘And blood and bones and earwax and other disgusting things I’d rather not mention, in fact.’
‘I see you haven’t become much more sensi
ble since our last encounter,’ I commented, a corner of my mouth involuntarily twitching.
‘And you not much more ladylike. Isn’t it wonderful how old friends never seem to change?’
‘Old friends? We only met once before.’
‘And you didn’t try to strangle me, Miss Linton. That makes you an old friend in my book.’
The corner of my mouth twitched again. Captain James Carter was one of the few men whose company I could tolerate - maybe because most of the time, he didn’t behave like a man, but like a naughty poltergeist trapped in the body of a British Army captain.
‘I heard this ball was being given as a sort of welcome home to a Miss Linton.’ He cocked his head. ‘Is that you? Or one of your sisters?’
‘Me, actually.’
‘Ah! So you’ve been on holiday! Tell all. Which sunny shore has been graced by the radiance of your presence and your exquisite feminine essence?’
‘Oh, shut up!’ I mumbled, my ears glowing.
‘I can’t help it.’ Theatrically, he placed a hand on his chest. ‘In my chest, there beats a poet’s heart! And my food is digested by a poet’s stomach, and my drinking is dealt with by a poet’s liver. So, where have you been?’
‘France.’
What?! Why the heck did you just tell him the truth?
‘La France,’ he sighed. ‘Did they try to feed you frogs and snails?’
‘No. They shot at me.’
‘The famed hospitality of the French!’ He smiled at me, obviously not taking me seriously. Thank God! ‘So, you’re back now. Are you here with your aunt and sisters?’
‘Yes. They’re all here, dancing somewhere. And you? Did you come alone or-’ I froze. A possibility had just occurred to me. ‘Blimey! You didn’t come here with your friend, Sir Philip, did you?’
‘With Flip? No. Why?’
‘Why? You ask why? Did you perhaps forget that he happened to fall madly in love with my sister Ella? A love which she, I might add, did not return in the least?’
He waved my concerns away. ‘Ah, yes, but I told you, Flip falls madly in love with another woman every week. That’s his thing, being madly in love. That, and flowers.’
