"Forgive me, Lucia. Would you ladies care for some champagne?"
"Yes, take yourself off. I must find Sally."
Lady Jersey was located and professed herself delighted to meet Miss Savarol. Of course the young lady should dance the waltz. Vouchers to Almack's? Why, certainly. She would again be most delighted to assist her dear friend.
Lucia breathed a sigh of relief when they left the semi-royal presence. "Talk about perfume!"
"She reeked," said Diana.
"Ladies, your champagne."
Diana had drank champagne once before. She accepted the glass, her fingers brushing Lyonel's. She gave a start and looked up at him. Her look of surprised awareness was not lost to Lyonel, and he frowned. He wanted nothing to do with any lady, much less this silly chit from the West Indies. He said, "Sip it, Miss --- Diana."
"I know how to drink!"
"Not to excess, I trust. Ah, a waltz. Come, Diana. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can end. Then the king of this jungle will turn the wolves loose on your virtue."
"Lyonel!"
"Forgive me, Lucia. Diana?"
A fair-haired gentleman standing near a potted palm said to his friend, "Who is that with Lyonel? A lovely girl. He is so quickly over his bout of Charlotte Haversham?"
His friend, Lady Markham, laughed lightly. "I should trust so, particularly since she is now Lady Danvers."
"For my own part, I think Lyonel very lucky. This young lady looks like an innocent little flower, ready to ---"
"Really, Edgar! You promised you would cease your poetry at eight o'clock. It is well past that."
"She is lovely," Edgar persisted. He saw Charlotte Moressey, Lady Danvers, from the corner of his eye, raised his voice, "I hear tell that Lyonel is much taken with the girl. No wonder, I say. Why, just look at that beautiful hair and face, not to mention, well, her other remarkable assets."
Corinne, Lady Markham, wasn't at all stupid. Nor was she a friend to Charlotte. "I agree. Perhaps they will make a match of it."
Charlotte turned to her new husband and said in an overly bright voice, "Come, Dancy, let us waltz."
Corinne was a malicious bitch, Charlotte thought as she followed Dancy's rather erratic movements on the dance floor. Who was that wretched girl? She saw Lyonel smiling down at her, and winced. She knew he would have to marry, if nothing else, for an heir to the earldom. But so soon? If only, she thought for the hundredth time, he hadn't come to Haversham House that ill-fated day. If only she hadn't been in the tack room at that particular time, with Dancy. If only they'd been discussing Paulson's treatment for a swollen hock, if only
Charlotte shook her head. She was honest enough to admit that she'd done herself in. She'd been greedy. She'd wanted both Lyoenl, for a husband, and Dancy, for a lover. She'd heard that Lyonel had gone north and was in a way pleased that she had bowled him over so thoroughly. But here he was, only two months later, dancing with a dazzling girl and enjoying himself as if she, Charlotte, had never existed.
"You are a natural dancer," Lyonel said before he could censor the compliment.
She looked taken aback. "As you said, many times, my lord, you are an excellent teacher."
"You are supposed to say, Thank you, Lyonel."
"And assume my maidenly pose, complete with downcast eyes and perhaps a little blush?"
"You do learn quickly. Come along now, let me introduce you to some appropriate gentlemen. You will dance only with those of whom I approve. And no more than two dances with any gentleman, else it could cause unwanted gossip. There will not be a scoundrel, fortune-hunter, or philanderer among them."
"I am not stupid!"
"Perhaps not, but you are vastly ignorant. Do as I tell you or you will likely make a complete fool of yourself."
"I do not like you."
"If a gentleman looks overly long at your bosom, you will not dance with him again."
"Then I am not to waltz with you a second time?"