by Mr Brummell, once the Regent’s favourite, his coat and breeches black, his shirt pristine white and his cravat a masterpiece set off by a diamond stick pin that sparkled in the light of the candles. His simple elegance made him stand out from many of the other gentlemen, who appeared overdressed by comparison. He smiled ruefully. ‘I am late,’ he apologised. ‘I suppose it is too much to hope that you saved a dance for your best friend.’
‘I fear that it is,’ Susannah said in a reserved manner. ‘I did not think you would wish it now—and so I gave them all away.’
‘What do you mean?’ Harry was puzzled, but before she had time to answer, her next partner was there asking her to dance. He watched as she was whisked away and stood frowning as she laughed up at the young man. Devonshire was the heir to a duke, but it was unlikely he would look at Susannah, for he needed an heiress to support his expensive tastes.
Harry took up a position next to the French windows, watching Susannah as she went from partner to partner. He could not understand what had happened to her. She was always a lively girl, but this evening she seemed almost reckless. Yet he would swear that her laughter was not her usual carefree mirth. She was upset about something and she blamed him—but for the life of him he could not think what he had done to distress her.
Could it be that he had been deceived in her? He had thought he was gaining ground, but now it seemed they had gone back to the start. Harry shrugged. He did not care to stay and watch. He would go to his club or perhaps visit the lady who had been his mistress until a few weeks previously. He had finished his affair with Elaine, for it no longer pleased either of them, but he could talk to her—and he was in need of some female advice at this moment. Advice that he would never dream of asking from his mother or his sister.
Susannah did not see him leave, but she became aware that he was missing just before supper. Glancing round the supper room, she thought he might be found there, but he had disappeared. However, she saw Mary Hamilton, Lady Hamilton and a gentleman of about fifty years she recognised as the Marquis of Stavely. He was wearing a puce coat, tight breeches that showed off his rather large stomach and a black wig that was really rather odd. As if aware of her interest, he lifted a gold lorgnette to his eye and looked her way. Susannah blushed and hastily averted her gaze.
She had turned her attention to the food and was deciding what to eat when Mrs Hampton came up to her. ‘It is good news concerning Miss Hamilton, is it not, Susannah? Have you taken the opportunity to wish her happy?’
‘No, Mama—I met her this morning. She told me she expected a proposal, but I did not expect it this evening …’ Her voice quavered a little and her mother gave her an odd look. Her look of distress was plain and Mrs Hampton frowned. ‘He said nothing of her to me even this evening …’
‘Are you thinking …?’ Mrs Hampton smiled all at once. ‘Susannah, my dear—Miss Hamilton is engaged to the Marquis of Stavely.’
‘The marquis …’ Susannah stared in dismay. ‘But I thought … I knew she had thoughts of … another gentleman.’ How could Miss Hamilton have accepted an offer from a man nearly old enough to be her grandfather?
‘I imagine that is the reason for your behaviour this evening.’ Mrs Hampton looked a little disapproving. ‘I knew there was something. I told you once I did not think Pendleton was interested in Miss Hamilton. I believe you should go and congratulate her, Susannah. It may look as if you are jealous of her good fortune if you do not.’
‘Yes, Mama, of course,’ Susannah said. She went at once and said everything that was proper, ignoring the smirk on Mary’s face. It was clear that the young lady was very pleased with her bargain—indeed, the marquis was wealthy and titled—but Susannah did not envy her one little bit. She would rather remain a spinster than marry the man Mary Hamilton had accepted.
After congratulating her, Susannah went back to the ballroom. She looked for Lord Pendleton, but could not see him. She ventured to the open door of the card room and glanced in, but he was not there. Obviously he had left at some time earlier and she had not seen him go. What must he think of her?
‘If you are looking for Pendleton, he is visiting his mistress,’ a harsh voice said behind her. She swung round to find herself looking at the Marquis of Northaven. ‘I heard him give the address to a cab driver as I got down from one myself.’ Northaven sneered. ‘I know the lady well. She is not particular in the company she keeps.’
Susannah bit her lip. She would not trust herself to answer such a remark, for it was said spitefully and not worthy of notice. ‘Excuse me, I must find my mama.’
She walked away from him, her heart racing. It was not her affair if Lord Pendleton had gone to visit his mistress. She regretted refusing him a dance when she might have given him a choice of two had she wished, but it would not have made any difference if he wished to spend the evening in the arms of his mistress. Susannah felt close to tears, because she had been foolish. She should have made sure of her facts before sending Harry Pendleton away. He must have thought her most rude, as she had been, a fact she now bitterly regretted.
Susannah did not see Harry the following day. He called while she was out walking with some friends and left her a posy of flowers. He renewed his promise to see her at her dance, but nothing more. She knew that she could not expect more. Indeed, she had not expected as much after her behaviour the previous evening. He must think her a flighty creature who changed her mind at the slightest whim.
She had, after some thought, decided to forget what the marquis had told her. She had no way of knowing that it was true—and even if it had been, Harry was a single man and entitled to visit any lady he chose.
Susannah knew that she cared for him more than was proper. He had not declared himself and she had no reason to expect it. However, if he should propose, she would make it clear that she would not wish him to visit other ladies if they married.
But she was foolish to consider it. Harry might not even be thinking of taking a wife. It was quite improper of her even to think such things! Yet she had begun to think of him as hers, and she could not help feeling jealous of the woman who had taken him from the ball.
It was a glorious day for her special dance. Susannah was allowed to sleep a little later than normal before Iris brought in her breakfast tray and a pile of notes and small gifts.
‘What are all these?’ Susannah asked, staring at them in surprise. ‘It isn’t my birthday for ages yet. I knew I might receive some flowers, but I didn’t expect anything more.’
‘Why don’t you open them?’ Iris asked. ‘See what you’ve got.’
Susannah picked up the first parcel and looked at the card. ‘This is from Mama—what can it be?’ She tore off the pretty wrapping and found a small velvet-covered box. Opening it, she discovered a pretty pearl-and-diamond clip for her hair. ‘Oh, that is lovely. It must have cost Mama some guineas to buy it for me.’
‘Well, it is a special day, miss,’ Iris said, smiling at her. ‘Go on, open the other two.’
Susannah knew her maid was excited and curious, so to oblige her she picked up the second parcel, which was from Amelia. Inside that she found a pair of pearl-and-diamond drop earrings, which she held up for Iris to admire. Picking up the third box, she looked for a card, but found none.
‘How odd,’ she remarked. ‘There is no card with this one. I cannot think who sent it.’
‘Perhaps it fell off,’ Iris suggested. ‘I’ll look for it when I go down, miss. Open it and
