Page 23 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

T he Countess of Hampton’s ball was a glittering affair, immediately pronounced a great success.

Perhaps piqued by the news that the Duke of Leamington was also holding a ball, Lady Hampton had held nothing back.

Not only was there an excellent string ensemble, but there were Pandean pipes as well, and the band of her nephew’s regiment had been persuaded to play during supper.

Rumours were already flying that Champagne was scarce now throughout London, she had bought up so much.

The ballroom had been dressed on a theme of ancient Greece to complement its marble columns and antique statuary. Swags of laurel and olive decorated the walls, white muslin was draped everywhere and small pages in white tunics stood around holding bowls overflowing with grapes.

The background proved an admirable foil for the ladies’ gowns, the footmen worked hard to press wine into every hand and even the rain pounding down on the roof of the conservatory which led off the ballroom did not manage to dampen the effect of a sunlit Mediterranean garden too much.

Thea was firmly resolved to enjoy herself, to flirt with any man who attracted her and to secure at least one dance with the Earl of Porchester.

In that she was immediately successful. Her hostess had her husband on her right side and her nephew on her left in the receiving line and Thea was conscious that he was regarding her with interest as he shook her hand.

‘Do promise me a dance,’ he said. ‘I shall come and hope to claim the first waltz as soon as I am free of my duty here.’

Thea found herself smiling back at a pair of amused hazel eyes, an earnest expression and a beak of a nose that the Duke of Wellington himself might have envied.

‘I would be delighted,’ she said, and meant it. He looked…interesting. Not at all handsome, but very attractive. Honest and straightforward? Who could tell—certainly not she.

Her mood dipped when almost the first person she encountered as she entered the ballroom was Lady Helena Linton looking particularly radiant in powder blue with silver ribbons.

‘Lady Thea, good evening. A delightful crush, is it not? My goodness, what an original hairstyle. How very, er, dashing of you.’

Jennie, experimenting, had managed to twist Thea’s hair into a pile of shining curls with one twisting lock falling to her shoulder.

In Thea’s opinion—and she was sensitive about her hair, even though it was no longer so very red—it was both stylish and flattering, although perhaps a touch adventurous for an unmarried lady.

‘Why, thank you,’ she gushed, as though she had no idea it had been meant as anything but a compliment.

‘My new lady’s maid created it. I was so lucky to obtain her services.

I expect you have found it difficult to find anyone to give you a touch that’s a little out of the ordinary, but it is worth trying. ’

And with a warm smile and the guiltily delightful sensation of having been at least as catty as Lady Helena, she moved on into the room.

Marcus Greyson, the Earl of Porchester, found her ten minutes later and ruthlessly disposed of the two young men who were asking her for dances.

‘A waltz, of course,’ he said when she opened her card. ‘Or have I missed them all?’

‘No, my lord,’ she said, flattered despite herself by his eagerness. ‘The second?’

‘Excellent. And another, if you please?’ he asked hopefully.

‘I would be delighted,’ Thea said, ‘The fourth set? They are all country dances,’ and laughed as his face fell.

She strongly suspected that his aunt, on receiving her favourite nephew back unscathed from the wars, had looked around and had made her own little list of the most eligible young ladies for him.

She knew she would feature on it—not that she took any credit for that, one could not be responsible for one’s parentage, or the good fortune to be born into wealth—and she thought none the worse of him for working his way through his aunt’s suggestions.

At least , she thought darkly, he is getting on with it and hasn’t left some unfortunate young lady waiting for years while he went to war.

Even as she thought it, she was aware of the sensation of being watched, turned and found herself standing a foot away from Hal.

‘Duke.’

‘Lady Thea. May I crave the favour of a dance?’

‘Crave? How dramatic. You may certainly request one, of course. A country dance, perhaps? The one after supper is free.’

‘That would be delightful, thank you.’

Thea found herself somewhat breathless and realised that she had hardly glanced higher than the diamond stickpin in his neck cloth. With what felt like a physical effort she looked up and gasped. ‘Oh, your poor face!’

He had made no effort to disguise the bruise that discoloured his forehead and had spread down to give him a magnificent black eye. ‘Quite the Beast to cause all the Beauties assembled here to shudder, don’t you think?’

‘I believe that it would take more than a bruise to discourage young ladies from dancing with the most eligible man in London.’

‘True. Even you have accepted a dance.’

‘ Even me?’

‘We know that you are the one woman who has no time for the most eligible man in London,’ he said with an edge to his words.

‘I never said that I had no time for you. I said I wouldn’t marry you because you are a—’ Thea bit off the rest of what she had almost said. They had kept the volume of their exchange conversational but she was aware that heads had begun to turn, perhaps alerted by something in the tone.

She laughed and tapped Hal’s arm playfully with her closed fan as though they had been exchanging playful banter and the watchers turned away, losing interest in just another flirtation.

With a faint sketch of a curtsey, she walked on. Did he turn to look after her? she wondered, her spine tingling. There had been anger in that exchange, anger at her rejection that he had not shown before, and Thea found herself shaken by it.

It was all his fault, she told herself. Not hers. She had been in the right, the injured party, the one deceived. She was still in the right and the fact that he could be angry about it just showed how justified she had been.

Viscount Lammerton broke into her thoughts with a request for a dance and accepted the very first with an expression of surprise. He was a little shy, certainly unsure of himself, and had clearly expected to be fobbed off with a set of country dances towards the end of the evening.

Thea liked him, but felt nothing that would prompt her to encourage his tentative advances and scolded herself for being so unsettled by the encounter with Hal that she had offered the opening dance.

Her parents would be horrified at the thought of a mere viscount for her and this would probably earn her a lecture from Mama.

She paused to talk to a small group of her friends near the door to the conservatory and, glancing inside, saw that it was a long rectangular room built along the length of one side of the ballroom. It was filled with greenery.

Miss Jameson had noticed that too. ‘Perfect for a flirtation,’ she said with a giggle.

‘Even better for a kiss.’ That was Lady Gloria Hunter, who had a reputation for being fast. ‘I have been here before, so I speak from experience,’ she added with a naughty twinkle.

‘And it is very convenient, because there is another door at the far end, so if anyone comes in you can always escape.’

Shy little Miss Wilson blushed rosily and Thea, seeing Giles Duncan approaching, laughed and moved on. He was a prosy young man with a passion for fishing and, apparently, little else, and she had no intention of adding him to her dance card.

Almost at the end of the room she swerved slightly. Ahead of her were Helena Linton and her mother, Lady Linton, their heads together.

Plotting . The word sprang into Thea’s mind, startling her. The two women turned and looked at the conservatory door just behind them and then across the crowded ballroom. Instinctively Thea turned too, tried to see whom they were staring at, but it could have been almost anyone.

She gave herself a little shake. Really, it was unhealthy to allow that woman to annoy her. It gave Helena an importance she most certainly did not merit.

The Pandean pipes ensemble ceased to play and retired amidst a smattering of applause as the string players came in and arranged themselves on the dais.

People began to shift to the edges of the ballroom, ladies stood with casual elegance near the dance floor so they could be easily seen and the chaperones settled themselves in the grouping of chairs that had been set out for them.

From there they would exchange gossip, demolish reputations, be lethally polite to each other and keep a sharp eye on each and every single young lady.

Gradually, as the players finished tuning their instruments, gentlemen found their partners and led them towards the centre and Lord Lammerton appeared at Thea’s side, awkwardly offering his hand.

Fortunately, he was a better dancer than one would guess on first meeting him, and Thea found she could relax and fear neither for her toes, nor her hems, despite the first dance being a complex quadrille.

His small talk was limited, but the frequent separations of the steps made conversation impossible anyway, so that was no impediment to her enjoyment.

When their dance was finished he led her off the floor and straight into the waiting hands of the Earl of Porchester who must have been watching out for her.

‘A vigorous set,’ he remarked as Lord Lammerton bowed and left.

‘Very,’ Thea agreed, fanning herself as the Earl led her to a chair. Fortunately, the orchestra had settled down to a few minutes of what she always thought of as twiddly music, presumably recognising that everyone needed to regain their breath.

‘A glass of lemonade?’ Marcus Greyson asked. He was already on his feet and gesturing to a passing waiter.