to the point of each shoulder, tied with ribbons at intervals. Lord Elyot, she was pleased to see, did not take his eyes off her once during their duet until the others came to join them.
This, my lord, is what you will never get to know, however much you may discover about my inconvenient dogooding, damn you.
The minuet ended and, to the accompaniment of glances, open looks and more outright stares, Amelie was led off the floor to a corner where, before she could be surrounded by potential partners, Lord Elyot made his own claim upon her quite clear. ‘You will go into supper with me, my lady,’ he said, watching carefully for her reaction, ‘and you will save the next and the last dance for me too.’
‘My lord, that sounds remarkably like a command. And you know what will be said if I dance more than twice with you.’
‘It is a command,’ he said. ‘And people may say whatever they wish. They are talking already, I dare say.’
She looked. Yes, heads were bent behind fans, plumes nodding. It was as she had half-expected, and although most of her new acqaintances were men introduced to her by Lord Elyot, only a few were their wives and daughters who may or may not have been told that they must be introduced to her, like it or not.
Lady Sergeant and her daughter obviously had, otherwise their greetings would have come sooner and been delivered with more sincerity. ‘Well Nicholas,’ said Lady Sergeant, squinting through a waterfall of heavy blond lace and greying curls, ‘you’ve picked up another handsome gel, and no mistake, though you could hardly miss her on your own doorstep, could you? Eh?’ She tapped Lord Elyot’s arm while looking Amelie up and down several times. ‘Heard your husband was in the metal trade…what was it…lead?’
Amelie’s policy had always been to make no response to outright rudeness, which was quickly fielded by Lord Elyot. ‘Lady Chester’s late husband was in gold,’ he said, ‘not lead. He was a banker, Lady Sergeant. Now, if you and your daughter will excuse us, this is my dance and I don’t intend to miss it.’ Taking Amelie firmly by the hand, he drew her away, transferring his palm to the small of her back on purpose, Amelie thought, to give the obnoxious woman something else to talk about.
‘Lead mines,’ she said to him in a low voice.
Across the set, he faced her, mouthing the words, ‘Lead mines?’
They met in the middle. ‘In Derbyshire.’
‘Good grief!’ he murmured, retiring.
‘I knew it,’ she said as they met again.
He took her hands. ‘What?’
‘I should have worn my other two heads.’ She turned with him and retired, smiling to herself.
His response, when it came, made her blush. ‘That, my lady, would be to gild the lily.’
The glow was still in place when they next met to go down the set, hand in hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It would shock you as much as the rest of them.’
‘I am learning enough about you to be neither shocked nor surprised.’ Ducking under the arch of hands, they parted to return to the top of the set, and his meaning was not made clear to her, as the dance steps forbade anything more than the odd word in passing. Then it became more than a holding of hands and a linking of arms, but a series of more recent dance moves where she was entwined and turned by him, where arms were placed across waists with hands clasped above, where there was a closer contact than ever with him looking down at her as if they were alone, and this but a prelude to something even more intimate.
She felt the firm pressure of his hands upon her shoulders and knew that her own hands were resting on hard muscle that could have lifted her clean off the floor with little effort, and that dance was what epitomised the manly qualities of self-confidence, support and…yes, captivation. What use was there in denying it?
Taking her hand again, he led her away. ‘I shall re-introduce Mrs Oglethorpe and her mousey daughter to you,’ he said. ‘She may not leave her card until you do, so now I shall remove both your excuses.’
‘I’d much rather you did not,’ Amelie said, releasing herself. ‘I prefer to choose my own friends.’
‘You must know you cannot do that in this business, my lady.’
‘In what business, sir?’
‘In society. For your niece’s sake, you need all the contacts you can get, as long as they’re respectable. It won’t cost anything to know who they are.’
But there he was mistaken, for it cost Amelie not a little in hurtful remarks that she felt could not possibly be unintentional, some to her face, others overheard. ‘Ah, from the north,’ said the hard-faced Mrs Oglethorpe, not knowing Derbyshire from the Outer Hebrides. ‘Is that not where they fix the heads of stags all round the halls? And do they still use the furs on their beds?’
‘You seem to know more about that than I do, Mrs Ogelthorpe,’ said Amelie, tiring of such nonsense. ‘Did your coachman manage to get your horses under control, by the way? I always send my men to Tattersalls, you know. Costs are higher, but I prefer that to local dealers. Don’t you?’
Then there was the barely concealed remark concerning Lord Elyot, which, for different reasons, Amelie would rather not have heard. ‘Well, my dear, with a reputation like his, you know where she’ll be heading, don’t you? Heartbreak, almost certainly. Two mistresses that I know of and plenty more that I don’t. His brother is just as bad, I believe.’
Amelie concluded her dance with a charming red-coated army officer who returned her to Lord Elyot, who knew him. ‘Where is Caterina?’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should be thinking of leaving soon.’
‘What is it?’ he said.
‘Oh…nothing. But it’s time we—’
‘You’ve heard something. I can see by your face.’
‘No…really…I…’ she looked round for Caterina, but now there was a general movement towards the supper room and there she was, with Lord Rayne and a group of young people heading for the refreshments, chattering and laughing, oblivious to her aunt’s concern.
‘She’s perfectly safe,’ said Lord Elyot. ‘You surely cannot take her away from that because of some idle gossip, can you? Isn’t this what you wanted for her? Is it not worth a little discomfort? Here, come with me.’ Threading her hand through his arm, he led her through large glass doors that opened on to a long verandah on the northern side of the inn that looked out over a large torchlit garden. Steps led down to wide terraces, the lowest one to the Thames where boats were tied, rocking on dark-mirrored water. Couples sauntered round huge stone flower-filled pedestals or sat on benches drinking and eating, and on one of these he bade her sit and wait while he went to find food.
In admiration, she watched his tall lithe figure stride away, stopping to speak to two officers who had partnered her. As if they had been waiting for permission, they kept her company with their gallantry until he returned with a servant then, bowing politely, left her alone with him.
‘If you hope to get through the evening at the same pace, my lady, you’re going to have to eat something. The tea may be lukewarm, but—’
‘It’s
