Chapter Twenty
Clemence managed to avoid Nathan for the entire evening. The reception rooms were numerous and interconnecting, so it was as simple matter, by keeping her wits about her, to slip from one to the other, to take refuge behind a bank of hot-house blooms or to dodge out of an open window on to the terrace and in through another, the moment one sighted a golden-brown head of hair or the blue cloth and gold braid of dress uniform.
She had discovered from Jessica why he was there, had to accept he had had no foreknowledge of it, nor could he have avoided it. It felt as though she was in a nightmare, wanting to go to him, forbidden to do so by every instinct of self-preservation. The rooms were crowded by evening guests come for dinner so she had to concentrate on making conversation with a string of strangers and near-strangers as well as keeping an eye out for Nathan.
She had found a secluded sofa and was catching her breath when a thin man she had been introduced to earlier appeared holding two glasses of wine. Pollington? No, Polkington. She made an effort, sat up straighter and smiled.
‘Miss Ravenhurst. May I join you?’
‘Of course. Thank you.’ There was nowhere to put a wine glass, so it seemed churlish to refuse the one he pressed into her hand.
‘And how are you finding our English weather after Jamaica?’ he enquired.
‘A little chilly, sir. I will soon become accustomed.’
‘As will the gallant Captain Stanier.’
‘And Captain Melville,’ she added.
‘Of course. You knew them both on the island?’
‘A little.’ Clemence shrugged negligently and took a sip of wine. ‘I came back on Captain Melville’s frigate, the Orion.’
‘So I hear.’ Somehow Mr Polkington gave the impression of hearing a great deal. ‘So very fortunate that that dreadful business on Corfu did not break Captain Stanier. Such a loss to the service that would have been.’
Don’t ask! ‘Oh? What a charming gown your sister is wearing.’
‘And a tragedy, too.’ Mr Polkington sighed. ‘Such a pretty young woman, the late Mrs Stanier.’
Clemence took a mouthful of wine and fought temptation. ‘I believe so.’ She could feel her will-power slipping away. ‘I know nothing about it, of course.’
‘No? Well, it was a whirlwind romance, of course. Lovely young woman—half-Greek, you know.’
‘I didn’t,’ Clemence murmured.
‘Black hair, flashing eyes, figure of Aphrodite. Such a mistake for young officers to marry, I always think. I said so to my friend the Governor at the time, but there—Stanier was swept off his feet, I do believe.’
‘Indeed?’
‘And such a lively girl, Julietta. No harm in her—I will never believe otherwise—but lively, you know, lively.’
‘A flirt?’ Clemence suggested, drawn in despite herself.
‘That’s it in a nutshell.’ Polkington smiled benevolently, while his black eyes were fixed on her like a robin that had spotted a worm.
He is trying to provoke a reaction, she thought, schooling her expression to one of polite interest. He has heard something about us. ‘Oh, Lady Maude is waving to me, will you excuse me, Mr Polkington?’
Lady Maude was nowhere to be seen, but her’s had been the first name to come into Clemence’s head. She hurried across the room and out into a antechamber, glancing back to make sure Polkington had stayed where he was.
‘Ough!’
‘Oh, I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking—Nathan!’
‘Clemence.’ He glanced over her shoulder back into the main room. ‘Have you been talking to Polkington?’
‘He has been talking to me, rather. Odious, insinuating man.’
‘He ha