not sympathise with.
Her father had lectured her about being sensible. Now she had passed on the lecture to the next generation, just as she would have done with a child of her own, she thought wistfully.
But she had no children and probably never would have. Darius’s offspring would have to be her consolation.
‘Go on about Herringdean,’ Mark begged. ‘Why did you join the lifeboats?’
‘I followed my father. He taught me to love being on the water. I’ve got a little yacht that I sail whenever I can. Every year Herringdean has a regatta, and I compete in a lot of the races. I win some too.’ She added proudly, ‘I’ve got all sorts of trophies.’
‘Tell, tell,’ they demanded.
They were as sailing-crazy as she was herself but, living in London, had fewer chances to indulge their passion.
‘Mum takes us on holiday to the seaside,’ Frankie said, ‘and she gets someone to take us out in a boat, but then we have to come home.’
‘What about your father?’ Harriet asked. ‘Does he go out in the boat with you?’
‘He’s never been there,’ Frankie said. ‘He was always too busy to come on holiday.’
‘That’s very sad,’ Harriet said, meaning it. ‘He misses so much.’
‘He nearly came once,’ Mark recalled. ‘We were going to have a wonderful time together, but at the last minute he got a call and said he had to stay at home. I overheard him on the phone—he was trying to stop some deal from falling apart. He said he’d join us as soon as he could, but he never did. It was soon after that he and Mum split up. Now we don’t go at all.’
Frankie took a deep breath. ‘Harry, do you think—?’
‘Ah, there you are, you two,’ came Mary’s voice from nearby. ‘I’ve got someone for you to meet.’
They groaned but got up obediently. Harriet felt a pang of dismay, wondering if Mary had deliberately sought to separate her from the children. And had she heard Frankie call her Harry? If so, was she resentful at their instant bond?
But the smile Mary gave her before hurrying away was unreadable.
Socially, she knew she was a success. Janine and Freya spoke to her pleasantly, Marcel and Jackson claimed her company, while Amos looked on. When he did address her, his manner was courteous but distant, as though he was reserving judgement.
None of the other men there reserved judgement. Admiring glances followed her everywhere and when the dancing started she had her pick of partners. Jackson was at the head of the queue, finally yielding to Marcel.
‘Whatever is Darius thinking of to leave you alone?’ Marcel asked as they hot-footed it around the floor.
‘Darius has urgent things to attend to,’ she said primly. ‘I don’t get in his way.’
‘Sacre bleu! You talk like that?’ he demanded, aghast.
‘Sometimes I do,’ she said mischievously. ‘Sometimes I don’t.’
‘You keep him guessing?’
‘Definitely.’
‘So you believe in ill-treating him?’
‘It has its uses.’
‘Well, then, you must do this. In the end he will rebel, the two of you will quarrel, and it will be my turn.’
Harriet couldn’t have said what made her choose her next words. She’d never been a flirt or a tease, but a delightfully wicked impulse made her say, ‘Oh, you’re going to wait your turn?’
‘If I have to. Does brother Darius know you tease other men?’
‘Darius knows exactly what I want him to know.’
‘I see. I must remember that. I wonder what he did to be such a lucky man.’
She seemed to consider. ‘I think he’s still wondering that too. Some day I’ll tell him.’
That made him roar with laughter. She joined in, relishing the experience of flirting on the edge of indiscretion, a pleasure she’d never known before. Suddenly the world was full of new delights, and she felt herself becoming slightly dizzy.
No doubt it was coincidence that made Darius appear at that moment. Marcel made a resigned face and yielded, kissing her hand before he departed.
‘Until the next time,’ he said.
‘Do I get a little of your company at last?’ Darius asked. ‘I seem to be the only person you’re not spending time with.’
‘Just trying to do you credit,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want to be known as the man who accompanied a little brown mouse, would you?’
‘I don’t think there’s much fear of that,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to think I’ve never really known you.’
‘Is that so surprising?’ she asked. ‘We met only a few weeks ago. Neither of us really knows anything about the other.’
‘No, we don’t,’ he said slowly. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise so many times… You’d think I’d realise by now…’
‘Maybe we never realise,’ she whispered.
The evening was drawing to a close. The bride-and groom-to-be embraced each other for the last waltz, and other dancers joined in. Darius took her hand and held it gently for a moment.
‘My turn,’ he said. ‘Unless you object.’
‘No,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t object.’
No words could express how much she didn’t object to dancing with Darius as he took her into his arms. Suddenly the most vibrant sensation she’d ever known was the light touch of his hand on her back, drawing her close but not as close as she would have liked. His hand holding hers seemed to whisper of that other time when he’d clung to her in a gesture that had transformed the world.
And then it had been transformed again, and yet again, with how many more to come? Once she would have wished she knew the answer to that, but now she was content to let the path lead where it might, as long as it ultimately led to him. In the enchanted atmosphere of tonight that didn’t seem as crazily impossible as it normally would.
There was warm affection in his smile, but was it real or only part of tonight’s performance? Or could she make it real? Was Cinderella’s power great enough for that?
The music was coming to an end. The ball was over.
But there would be another ball tomorrow, and Prince Charming might yet fit the glass slipper on her foot.
Darius? she thought. Prince Charming?
Well, it took all sorts.
‘Is
