boat. He did not look at Lucy as he joined them in the boat. Nor did he speak to anyone as they were rowed back to the shore.
Lucy was painfully aware of his anger, and, knowing nothing of what had caused it, she believed that he was angry with her. He must despise her for being foolish enough to find herself in a difficult position; indeed, she blamed herself, for Jo had warned her.
She felt close to tears, but held her head high. She would not let anyone guess that Lord Harcourt’s disapproval had distressed her so dreadfully.
‘You look very pretty, dearest,’ Mrs Horne said when Lucy emerged from her bedroom on the evening of the ball. ‘Who sent you that charming posy?’
‘It was from Lord Harcourt,’ Lucy replied. ‘It goes so well with my hair band, does it not?’ On receiving the pink roses tied with white ribbons, Lucy had tied her long hair back with a pink-spangled ribbon. She looked fresh and lovely, and very young.
‘That was kind of him,’ Mrs Horne said, smiling at her. She was very proud of her daughter, for she knew that, despite her innocence, Lucy was a sensible girl and would not let something so trivial turn her head. ‘Shall we go down now, Lucy?’ Besides, although she had heard rumours concerning Lord Harcourt, she was not yet disposed to believe them.
‘Yes, Mama.’ Lucy looked at her mother. ‘Did you say that it would be proper for me to dance the waltz, Mama?’
‘Perfectly proper at your sister’s ball,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘But when we go to Almack’s next month, you must wait until you are given permission from one of the hostesses. However, waltzing is perfectly acceptable almost everywhere now, my love.’
Lucy nodded. She had heard her sisters talk of waltzing and had not been quite sure whether it was accepted or not. Her heart beat a little faster as she wondered if Lord Harcourt would ask her to dance. If he should ask her to waltz…but she must not expect it. She was well aware that he saw her as a child and believed that he was attracted to Miss Tremaine, who took every opportunity to monopolise his attention. When the dazzling beauty of Miss Tremaine was on hand, why would he bother with Lucy?
The ballroom was already filling up when Lucy arrived with her mama. Marianne and Drew had been welcoming their guests for the past few minutes, and there were already some twenty couples besides the house-guests who were staying. For a while Mrs Horne moved amongst them, introducing Lucy to people she knew, and meeting others she had not met previously, but after some ten minutes or so the music struck up.
Lucy immediately found herself the centre of attention, and her dance card was soon filled. She danced first with General Rawlings. It was a country dance and Lucy was pleased because it meant that she passed on to other partners. She had already decided that she would not waltz with that particular gentleman if he should ask her.
Lord Harcourt danced the first two sets with Miss Tremaine. He approached Lucy as she returned to her mama’s side, asking for the pleasure of the next dance, which she was unable to offer him.
‘I fear I have nothing left until…the dance before supper,’ she said, looking at him shyly. ‘Perhaps…’
‘I should not have dallied,’ Jack said and looked slightly rueful. ‘Yes, that will do very well, Miss Horne—and I believe it may be a waltz, which will be all the better.’
Lucy’s heart raced. She had hoped that they might waltz together, never dreaming her wish would be granted. However, she could do little more than smile and promise she would keep it for him before she was claimed for the next dance.
Her partners were all kind, generous gentlemen, many of them married and much older than Lucy. However, she did dance with four gentlemen who were more her own age, and they stayed with her for most of the evening, forming a little court about her when she was not dancing and making her laugh. She enjoyed herself more than she had expected, and when Jo asked her if she was having a good time she was able to answer quite truthfully that she was very happy. However, she could not control a flutter of nerves as the supper dance approached, and when Lord Harcourt came towards her, she caught her breath. He was so very handsome, so much more assured and worldly than the young gallants who had kept her company all evening.
‘I believe this is my dance, Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied and gave him her hand.
As he took it and led her onto the floor, her heart was beating wildly. She hoped that her emotions did not show on her face, because she would not have liked him to guess that his touch affected her so deeply, making her tremble inside. She lifted her head, an unconscious look of pride in her eyes as the music struck up and he took her into his arms.
Dancing with Jack Harcourt was all that Lucy had dreamed of and more. The feeling that came over her was like nothing she had ever experienced before, excelling all her childhood dreams. She had wondered what it might be like to be held by him, but she could never have imagined the swirling emotions inside her, the heady sensation of dancing on air, or being swept away to a magical place. But this was not the magic of her childhood dreams. Lucy knew instinctively that what she felt for Lord Harcourt was love—the kind of love a woman feels for the man she wishes to be her husband.
For the duration of their dance, she allowed herself to float over the floor in his arms, lost to reality. She had never known passion or lust, never been kissed other than on the cheek by her relatives or friends, but something deep within her was responding to an age-old need that she had never even guessed existed until this moment.
She wished that she could go on dancing with him for ever, wished that this wonderful experience might never end, but all too soon the music was finishing and everyone began to make a move towards the supper room.
‘Perhaps you would like some supper, Miss Horne?’ Jack suggested, but at that moment Lucy’s mama came up to them.
‘Well, my dear, I am glad to see you looking so happy,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘Come along, Lucy. I want you to help me choose my supper from the wonderful buffet Marianne has ordered for us.’
Lucy gave her partner an apologetic look. She would have preferred to take supper with him, but could not refuse her mama’s request. He inclined his head as if to say that he understood, and she turned away, following in her mother’s wake. In the supper room she was invited to sit with a party of young people, and to her surprise her mama indicated that she might do so.
‘Yes, run along, dearest. You do not need to look after me, for Jo will help me.’
Lucy was a little bewildered. Why had her mama insisted that she accompany her, only to release her almost at once? Joining the other young people, Lucy hoped that Lord Harcourt would not be offended. However, a few minutes later, she saw that he was at the buffet with Miss Tremaine. He was laughing in response to something she was saying, and Lucy felt a pang of regret. She would have enjoyed eating her supper with Lord Harcourt.
‘Is something wrong, Miss Horne?’
Lucy turned to the young man sitting beside her. He was fair-haired, about twenty years of age, and attractive.
‘Nothing, thank you, Mr Tristram,’ Lucy said. ‘I was thinking of something, but it is not important.’ She turned her bright eyes on him. ‘Have you enjoyed this evening?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed with a slight flush in his cheeks. ‘More than
