The sisters moved d
own the stairs, Dorothea slightly in advance, carrying herself with that self-confident air that drew all eyes. Inwardly she was dreading this dance. She knew Herbert could not waltz to save himself. The next few minutes could be hideously embarrassing. Then her already huge and glittering eyes widened even further as, stepping on to the ballroom floor, she saw the Marquis of Hazelmere coming towards her, magnificent and smiling as ever.
He bowed to her and she automatically curtsied gracefully. He raised her and she went into his arms with her usual total abandon, her face radiant and her eyes sparkling with laughter. As they turned with the dance she cast a quick glance across to find Cecily had been met by Fanshawe. She sighed with relief, and said in heartfelt accents, ‘Oh! You have no idea how thankful I am that it’s you!’
Hazelmere smiled as they slowly went down the room. ‘Neither your grandmother nor I felt horrible Herbert was a suitable partner for you, nor that the not nearly so horrible but staid Lord Wigmore was quite right for Cecily.’
Alive to the silence around them, Dorothea, laughter in the big green eyes she did not dare take from his face, asked, ‘Are we making a scandalous spectacle of ourselves?’
Hazelmere, still smiling, murmured, ‘I rather suspect we are. But I doubt if it’s for the reason you suspect.’
She looked her question.
For a moment the hazel eyes glinted. He elected to answer only half of the query. ‘While my dancing the first waltz with you, and Tony with Cecily, is not precisely correct, it’s nevertheless acceptable in the circumstances of your having no near male relatives other than Herbert, who everyone knows can’t dance.’
‘So they may disapprove but they can’t condemn?’
‘Exactly so.’
They had reached the end of the ballroom and Hazelmere expertly executed a difficult turn, sending them back through the other couples now on the floor.
‘Incidentally,’ he continued, ‘this is also the one occasion when I can with impunity waltz twice with you. This dance is special and not listed on the programme and therefore doesn’t count. So, my dear Miss Darent, may I have the double pleasure of the supper waltz and of escorting you to supper?’
Thinking that that would ensure a most enjoyable evening, she laughingly agreed. As the last notes drifted down the room they glided to a halt and he led her back to Lady Merion’s side. Reluctantly relinquishing her, he kissed her hand and, with a peculiar smile that made her unruly heart somersault, disappeared into the gathering crowd of well-wishers.
Lady Hazelmere’s reaction to that first waltz was much the same as that of many in the watching crowd. When Hazelmere took Dorothea into his arms the entire company held its breath, usually the prelude to an outburst of censorious whispering. However, all the censorious minds simultaneously realised that there was nothing particularly scandalous after all. A minute’s reflection convinced the leading ladies that Lady Merion had pulled off a major coup. The gentlemen, almost to a man, found the incident highly entertaining.
What particularly tickled Lady Hazelmere’s quirkish sense of humour was the outrage engendered in a large number of the more staid female breasts by the way her son and the lovely Dorothea danced. The ton had thought they were accustomed to the sight of Miss Darent in Lord Hazelmere’s arms. But they had only seen them dancing in a crowd of other couples, not alone on a deserted ballroom floor. Tonight the first shock had come when Dorothea went so readily into his arms. But the way they moved together had really set the cat among the pigeons! So graceful, so completely attuned to each other that the intimacy which obviously existed between them was displayed for all to see. That performance had bordered on the indecent. Even more wonderful, thought the knowing Lady Hazelmere, was that not one word could be said of the matter. Not one single movement, not one flicker of an eyelash, had been in any way improper. The most censorious of the tabbies would not dare breathe a word for fear of being, quite justly, accused of having a mind of somewhat questionable taste. It was highly unlikely that her wicked son had not known how it would be. Equally certain that the lovely Dorothea was quite innocent in the matter. Well, no, perhaps not innocent, amended her ladyship, but Dorothea could certainly not have known how revealing that dance would be. No gently nurtured female could possibly have gone through with it.
At least I now know why Marc wanted me to warn off Maria and Susan, she thought. And, thinking just how scan-dalised her elder daughters were bound to be, she laughed and went to carry out his commission.
For both Darent sisters their coming-out ball was the most enjoyable night of the Season. They were fêted and saluted at every turn. Dorothea danced with every one of Hazelmere’s close friends, with whom she now enjoyed an easy acquaintance. She also danced with Herbert, but in a quadrille, which he performed adequately if not gracefully. It was more than halfway through the evening before she found herself once more in the Marquis’s arms, going down the floor in the supper waltz.
Guessing that she must have been making constant conversation, he did not press her to talk, merely murmuring, ‘Tired, my lovely Dorothea?’
For a moment his use of her name did not register. Then she looked up and found all inclination to question his right to use it evaporating. Meeting his eyes, she felt that deliciously warm feeling spread over her. So she assented to the question with a smile, her long lashes dropping to veil her large green eyes from his gaze in a manner he recognised only too well.
Smiling, he wondered if he dared tell her how she looked when she did that, or what the action commonly conveyed, but decided that after such an explanation she would in all likelihood not speak to him for a week.
Suppertime was hilarious. As Dorothea and Cecily were the twin foci of attention, they could not sit together. Instead, Dorothea and Hazelmere were surrounded by a reckless throng of his close friends. While he sat beside her, interpolating remarks only when the conversation threatened to get too deep for her ears, they entertained her with numerous anecdotes, many reflecting on Hazelmere himself. They knew he was perfectly capable of putting a stop to it any time he wished, so when he made no move to dampen their spirits their hilarity knew few bounds. In this way the half-hour devoted to supper whizzed past until Dorothea was claimed by Lord Desborough for the first of the last three dances of the evening.
At the end of the measure she was hailed by a small group of her grandmother’s acquaintances, older ladies whom she had not yet had time to talk to. Laughingly dismissing Desborough, she went to spend a few minutes in their company. Eventually excusing herself, Dorothea passed slowly through the crowd, stopping to chat here and there, dispensing just the right degree of notice at each halt. Turning from one such encounter, she was addressed by Miss Buntton, a blonde ice-maiden two years her junior. ‘My dear Miss Darent,’ said Miss Buntton in her normal frigid accents. ‘Your gown is really so superb! Truly esoteric! But I fear my mama would never permit me to wear such a gown. She always says it does no good to stand out in a crowd.’
Dorothea, long inured to Miss Buntton’s waspish jealousies-thought she really made it too easy. ‘I’m sure, my dear Miss Buntton, that you run no risk of displeasing your mama.’ With a smile of gentle malice, she was about to move on when another, older woman, whose name she could not recall, standing on the other side of the blonde beauty, intervened.
‘Miss Darent! I’ve been hoping to meet you. I’m Lady Susan Wilmot, Hazelmere’s sister.’
Dorothea touched the hand graciously held out to her and murmured something suitable. But Lady Susan was already speaking. ‘Yes, my dear. As I was just telling Miss Buntton, I was so pleased to see Hazelmere doing his duty by you tonight with that first waltz. He’s so lax in certain responsibilities, but, given that Lady Merion must have asked him, as a favour, to replace Herbert, I was pleasantly surprised to see him behave so acceptably. Perhaps it’s a sign that he’s contemplating settling down. Of course, the lady he marries must have all the qualities—as she’ll have to rule at Hazelmere. And naturally she can
only come from the finest of family. Wealth, of course, is necessary; Hazelmere after all is one of the wealthiest himself.’ Her ladyship smiled, gimlet-eyes, on Dorothea. ‘I dare say I’m not giving away any secrets in saying that all the family have high hopes of our dear Miss Buntton here.’
‘Oh?’ Unable to escape the net of her ladyship’s eloquence and feeling oddly depressed, Dorothea could not resist a glance at our Miss Buntton. Good lord! The girl was actually simpering!
At that moment a hand touched her arm. ‘Dorothea! Here you are! Come and meet my brother-in-law. I’ve promised to introduce you.’ Lady Alison Gisborne’s eyes met her older sister’s across the little group. Lady Susan coloured.
Missing the byplay, Dorothea, with relief, nodded to Lady Susan and Miss Buntton and gratefully departed to meet Andrew Gisborne.
As the closing strains of the last waltz drifted across the ballroom, and tired couples turned to find their parties, Dorothea found herself at the side of the ballroom on Lord Alvanley’s arm. His lordship was scanning the room, obviously looking for someone. ‘Ah, there he is!’ Looking down at Dorothea, he explained, ‘Marc asked me to return you to him after the dance.’