my programme is already filled. I’m sorry to have been so stupid. Another time, perhaps?’
This last sentence came out after such a fashion that it gave the impression that another time would be long in coming.
Jack’s smile froze on his face. He scarcely knew what to say. He had delayed leaving London only in order to attend the Lynchs’ dance. He had spent all his spare time dreaming about seeing Lacey again, but she was making it very obvious that the moment he had left her on that happy night at the Leominsters’ she had immediately forgotten about him. For her he was simply a chance-met nobody who had entertained her for a little time before she passed on to the next anonymous man who took her brief fancy.
He mentally shook himself, but not before the disappointment which he felt so keenly was plainly written on his face. He could not stop himself from saying quietly, ‘I thought that we had had an understanding…’
Lacey was surprised to find not only how much it had hurt her to let Jack down so brusquely, but also that she felt ashamed that she had done so—and had told a lie in the doing, albeit only a white one. Bad behaviour was bad behaviour, however many excuses one made to one’s self for indulging in it.
Perhaps, after all, her aunt had not been telling her the whole truth about the conversation she had overheard. Young men often talked extravagantly when on their own and one ought not to hang them for it. Besides, she also knew that Aunt Sue was very keen for her to marry a Duke which would mean that she would go one better than that other great heiress, Cornelia Vanderbilt, who was engaged to the heir to a Barony, that of the Amhersts.
Before Jack could walk away, she said in her best impulsive manner, ‘Please allow me to try to make up to you for being so careless about what was, after all, a promise. It won’t be like dancing the Charleston with you tonight, but Richard is making up a party to visit the Wembley Exhibition tomorrow afternoon. Why not squire me there? I’m told that it’s one of the sights of the century.’
Jack’s face brightened immediately. ‘If that is what you want, then I shall be happy to oblige you. By the by, I’m told that the Ashanti warriors do a war dance there, but I can’t promise to partner you in that.’
‘No, indeed, it might be too much. You may call for me tomorrow at Richard’s place in Park Lane at one thirty and join the party. My cousin George will also be going. Now let me introduce you to George’s sister, Pamela—she’s another splendid performer on the ballroom floor. I can’t have you left without a partner because of my carelessness.’
Jack was so delighted by the prospect of a whole afternoon with Lacey that he promptly agreed, although his first impulse on being let down had been to flee the Lynchs’ ball altogether. He allowed her to lead him through the crowd to where the other Chancellors were sitting and make the promised introduction.
Aunt Sue was very reproving when Lacey returned after seeing Jack settled with them and talking cheerfully to George and his family.
‘I thought that, having virtually cut Mr Jack Compton, you would have had more sense than to revive his hopes by asking him to be your escort to the Wembley Exhibition. I am sure that Lord Wellsbourne would have been happy to accompany you there. He is rich enough not to be marrying you for your money and he has been showing a great deal of interest in you lately.’
‘Dear Aunt,’ said Lacey gently. ‘You would not have me behave shamefully to Jack Compton. I promised to dance with him tonight and it was wrong of me to fill my programme before he came, even though you had told me of what you had overheard. Besides, squiring me to Wembley means that we shall be together, with many others, in a public place. I gather that he is returning to Sussex almost immediately so that our paths won’t be crossing much in future.’
Oh, dear, and now she was telling another whopper! Her aunt was not aware, but she was, that when they went to Ashdown they would be mingling with the county society of which Jack was a part. Not only that, but she was determined to discover more about the connection between the Comptons and the Chancellors.
Aunt Sue heaved a great sigh. ‘If you are not going to take any heed of my advice, then I wonder why you felt the need for my companionship, my dear. Reflect that I know more about the world in which we are now moving than you do. These people have a veneer of polish which we in the States do not possess. One has only to read Henry James and Edith Wharton to know how true this is—and always has been. Sophisticated charm may have its theoretical limits when set against the straightforwardness which is so much a part of American life, but it does flatter to deceive and cheat us when we come to Europe as many young men and women have found to their cost.’
Lacey was sorely tempted to point out that these two novelists had actually shown how often supposedly straightforward American heroes and heroines had taken on the sophisticates of Europe and had beaten them at their own game, but she thought that it would not be tactful to inform her of that!
Fortunately, the band began to play and her first partner arrived to whirl her into the quickstep. From then on Lacey was too busy enjoying herself with a sequence of young men whose names featured prominently in Burke’s Peerage, that large volume beloved of Aunt Sue, to worry about her strictures over Jack Compton.
She saw Jack at intervals. He seemed to be enjoying himself with the Chancellors’ set, and danced the Charleston with young Pamela without showing the same athletic vigour which he had done when dancing it with her at the Leominsters’.
No time for regrets, though, until young Henry Laxton, the Duke of Beddington’s heir, came to claim her for the Charleston when the evening was three parts over. He had been sober when he had booked the dance with her, but was far from being so when he reeled up to her chair.
‘Tally ho!’ he announced unoriginally. ‘Ready for the off, are we?’
Lacey rather thought not, and tried to cool him down by saying, ‘Do you feel up to it, Henry?’
‘Hank,’ he said blearily, winking at her. ‘That’s the nickname for Henry in Yankee-land, I’ve been told. Never felt better. Come on, babe,’ and he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her on to the floor just as the music began.
The whole thing was a disaster. He was constantly falling over her feet and proclaiming that it was all her fault. ‘You know,’ he hissed at her, after they had both nearly landed flat on the floor after one of his more unfortunate manoeuvres, ‘you’re the clumsiest bitch I’ve ever had the misfortune to dance with. Are you any better in bed? Do you—’ and he began to reel off an obscene list of suggestions to her.
What to do? Lacey was aware that people were beginning to look at them. She took the whirling giddiness of the Charleston as an opportunity to wheel him slowly away from the dance floor towards an anteroom. This, young Henry took to be an invitation for seduction.
‘What ho! And tally ho,’ he exclaimed again, or Lacey thought he did, since his speech was now so slurred that it was difficult to tell exactly what he was saying. He lunged at her in a clumsy attempt to begin the apparently promised seduction, but fortunately for Lacey drink, and the gyrations of the dance, had affected him so badly that it was easy for her to trip him up. He landed on the floor, winked at her, closed his eyes and immediately began to snore.
Now, what in the world was she to do? Leave him?
She was saved by, of all people, Jack.
He had been watching the erratic progress of an obviously tipsy Henry Laxton around the floor and had seen them dancing into the anteroom. The sixth sense which had served him well had him following them in to find Henry
