he responded in kind, the lady continued to prattle on merrily about the supper she had organized for later in the evening. “And a large pig has been roasting over a pit outside the kitchen house since yesterday. And we have desserts that will delight the most discerning palate.”
“The aromas are enticing,” Dinah said. “How shall we make it until supper?”
Mrs. Pilot chuckled again. “Why, we must dance up an appetite. Which reminds me, Miss Templeton, I am sorry your handsome brother and his lovely wife are not in the city. Captain Templeton dances beautifully and could teach some of our locals a thing or two.”
“Yes, he does.” Dinah felt a pang of loneliness for Jamie. “Marianne made certain he learned the skill in London.”
“Will he be returning to East Florida soon?” Mrs. Pilot tapped her chin. “We must have another ball when he comes to celebrate all the new wares he will bring us. Even if the governor will never countenance such an event, we can meet in another home.”
“I have not heard from Jamie for five months, so surely he will return soon.” Dinah’s old fears resurfaced. “I pray he will not encounter that pirate, Nighthawk, and have his cargo stolen.”
“Now, Dinah,” Anne said, “thou knows that Captain Moberly’s presence will surely put an end to the piracy.”
“Indeed, it shall.” Mrs. Pilot patted Dinah’s hand, then gazed across the room. “Now if you will excuse me, I see we have some newcomers.”
Dinah and Anne curtsied to the English lady, who scurried away to tend to her hostess duties. Mrs. Pilot had long ago made it her duty to see that those who had fled to St. Augustine because of the war found safety and welcome. Every time the watchtower bell rang to announce the arrival of a ship, whether merchant or military, Betsey Pilot could be counted on to ascertain its identity and the needs of its crew.
Anne smiled. “What would we do without her?”
“Endure great boredom, I am certain.” Dinah peered through the crowd to see how Thomas fared and found him looking her way. Following Mrs. Pilot’s example, she gave him a tiny wave, as though the two of them shared a good-humored secret. His wry grin and slight nod assured her that he had understood.
Thomas and Mrs. Pilot led the first dance, and young Mr. Richland claimed Dinah as his partner. She felt some relief, because dancing a country round with someone who was as provincial as she gave her the opportunity to reacquaint herself with her feet, silly appendages that seemed determined to embarrass her by failing to keep time with the music.
At the end of the set, she looked for the captain, hoping for rescue from Mr. Richland. But the senior Mr. Richland moved his son aside, took her hand and led her to the floor. As the next piece ended, Mr. Wayland bumped the older man aside, and after him, another officer sought her as a partner. Perhaps she smiled too generously. Perhaps Mrs. Pilot took pity on her for her pieced-together dress and sent the gentlemen to her rescue. To a man, they heaped praise upon her for her gown, which only caused her more discomfort. Or, more precisely, annoyance. Their effusive compliments seemed to border on insincerity.
At last, after countless rounds, she managed to hide behind a row of tall potted plants to catch her breath and watch the revelers from the shadows. Across the ballroom she saw Elizabeth Markham sipping punch with Mr. Wayland. To her surprise, her friend’s expression held not a hint of her usual coyness, merely modest admiration. Could this young officer, the third son of a baron, have won her heart? Already?
A sudden rustling of the leaves nearby gave Dinah a start, which quickly turned to delight. Thomas stood just beyond the plants, his blue eyes focused on her, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Hiding, are we?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you not enjoying all the merry matchmaking?”
She emerged from her refuge, feigning indignation. “Hmph. This ball was meant to be in your honor, not a matchmaking event.”
Now he laughed out loud. “My dear Miss Templeton, every ball is a matchmaking event.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I suppose.”
He turned to face the room with her. “May I fetch you some lemonade?”
“Gracious, no, but I thank you, sir. This past hour, I have had lemonade enough to drown me.” Nearly every gentleman with whom she had danced insisted on fetching her some refreshment between sets.
He regarded her for a moment. “Ah, to have an abundance of tasty lemonade available after months at sea. I believe my officers and I would very much enjoy drowning ourselves in it.”
“Just as you are drowning in the admiration of our city?” She could not withhold a laugh. “Why, look over there at my friend and yours.” She pointed with her folded fan. “I do think Miss Markham would be a fine wife for an officer in His Majesty’s navy. Her father is wealthy, and her mother has taught her the proficiencies required of a gentleman’s wife…or an officer’s. The younger son of a baron could not do better, could he?” She lifted one eyebrow and smirked.
“I have no doubt the young lady is quite accomplished and worthy.” The captain eyed Elizabeth and tilted his head as if considering the proposition. “Yes, I believe she will do wonders for Mr. Wayland. By the expression on his face, I do believe you have lost your chance with him.”
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