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With such blithe disregard for history, they whiled away the long wait for the leaders to dance their way down to their lowly position. She was a diverting companion, and an enthusiastic dancer, too, when their turn finally came.
“Goodness, I am so hot!” she said, when the set finally broke up. “Shall we find some air? There must be a window open somewhere.”
She led him out of the ballroom, past the card rooms, the doorways crowded with onlookers, down a long corridor, and finally round a corner to where a casement window was slightly ajar. Will was suspicious that she found it so easily, and conveniently already open, as if she knew she would bring him here… or bringsomeonehere.
With quick movements, she stripped off her long gloves and he glimpsed a wedding ring. A married woman — that held certain possibilities. Leaning against the wall, she said, “So are you enjoying the season, Sire? Have you seen all the great sights that the Metropolis offers the visitor?”
If he wanted a little dalliance, there was the perfect opening for it. Some double-edged comment about the magnificence of certain sights, or perhaps that the monuments and churches were very fine, but it was society which pleased him the most — that would do it. With a knowing smile and a certain tone of voice, she would understand him well enough. She would say something of the same sort, would find some excuse to reach out to him — she might commend him on the style of his coat, perhaps, and run her fingers over his shoulder. And then she would be in his arms, for she was plainly willing enough.
But he was not. That was a surprise. Only a few months ago, he would have been keen to take the kisses which were clearly on offer, but now, there was no inclination. She was pretty, she was interested and he was not even slightly tempted. He made some light response to her overtures, and after a few minutes, she declared herself refreshed and they returned to the assembly room where she abandoned him, presumably to search out more promising prey.
He bethought himself of the largely masculine respite of the card room, where at least there was no necessity to converse at all, if he chose. Somehow, that too held no appeal. Miss Whittleton’s censures rose in his mind, so with a smile on his face and an inward sigh, he looked about him for a partnerless young lady, finding himself a pleasant girl with a mama not too concerned about the proprieties of introductions, in the cause of getting her daughter into the set now forming.
Good Queen Bess was not amongst the dancers, but a little while later she was deep in heated conversation with Lord Charles Heaman. Will would almost have said they were arguing. The next time he looked, they had both disappeared and his mysterious partner was seen no more that night.
As they made their way home, Stepmother and the girls were in raptures about the evening. At least, Angie was, keeping up a continuous patter of superlatives. She had never enjoyed herself so much in her life… such pleasant gentlemen, and such exquisite manners… the music lively, the dancers no less so… the supper— Here she paused, for the supper had been a paltry affair, and even Angie’s excitement could not make it otherwise. She moved swiftly on to the ladies’ gowns, and here was an inexhaustible subject, which occupied the rest of the short journey home.
Pa had waited up for them, keen to hear how it had gone, but he soon grew tired of the effusions and chased them up the stairs. “Go and get your beauty sleep, ladies, and tell me the rest of it tomorrow. Will, come and have a brandy with me before bed, eh?”
Will recognized this as Pa wanting to talk to him about something, but at first his questions were all about the ball. “Was Rosie truly a success, or is that merely your stepmother’s fondness talking?”
“So far as I can tell, she was a success.”
“Hmm. That sounds a little uncertain.”
“To be honest, Pa, I am not sure that I understand these society people very well. It seems to me that they invited us in order to see us fail. No one dances the minuet these days, yet Lady Pinner singled Rosie out to dance it with her son. Then, when it was clear that she was not about to make a mull of it, Lady Frederica and Lady Plummer tried to distract her. That did not work, either, and Rosie was besieged with men wanting to stand up with her after that. But whether we will be invited anywhere else… who knows?”
“Let us take things one ball at a time, shall we? Who did she dance with — after the minuet?”
“Let me see… Somerwell first, then the Iverson boy. The Irish fellow… Tranter. Then Somerwell again, who took her into supper. Then a fellow called Deptford, I think. One of Lady Pinner’s nephews, a Mr Greaves. Then she sat out with Mr Crutchley, a stout old gentleman, but quite an admirer. And the Roger de Coverley with Lord Albury. He had not met her before, but we bumped into him over supper and he danced with both the girls.”
“And does she like any one of them more than another?”
“You know Rosie, Pa. There is no telling what she may be thinking or feeling. She smiles just as much at all of them, even poor Mr Crutchley.”
“Hmm. I’ve had a letter from Somerwell asking me for the favour of an interview in private. I can guess what that means. Well, I shall be happy enough to see him. At least when a man comes to me at once, I know his intentions are honourable.”
Will’s eyebrows rose. “That is very fast, to be paying his addresses. He barely knows Rosie, and we know nothing about him.”
“He may merely want my authority to court her in earnest, and I’ll not turn him away, even though he’s a plain Mister. He can court her if he likes, and decide whether she’ll suit him, but it’s sensible to be sure he’ll be welcome first. I like a straightforward approach. As for character, I’ve been around for long enough to judge, Will. If I can look him in the eye, I’ll know what sort of man he is. But what of you? Did you enjoy the evening too?”
“Oh yes, but…”
Pa chuckled. “You are not put out because Rosie’s minuet got all the attention, are you?”
“Lord, no, because I danced the minuet, too.”
“Oh? And who was the lucky lady?”
“Miss Whittleton.” He was reluctant to admit it, knowing he would be teased about her, but Pa merely lifted an eyebrow. “But there was a girl there… a woman… married, I suppose, for she had a ring on her finger. She got up a bit of a flirtation with me, and do you know, I could not be bothered with it. It all seemed… oh, so futile, somehow.”
Pa took a long swallow of brandy, and then smiled. “You know what it means, I take it? When a man loses his interest in a casual flirtation?”
“I dare not think what you might mean.”
“Why, only that you are ripe for marriage, young man.” Pa laughed out loud then. “So Miss Whittleton had better watch out, eh?”
Will was so disgusted that he could find no sensible answer.
