through her fingers. “I feel like a fairytale princess. It's a pity I don't have a Prince Charming to accompany me.”
Jenny handed Emily the ribbon attached to her demi-train, her matching reticule, and fan. “I hope I don't trip myself up, Jenny. I can't imagine how I shall manage to dance with so many bits and pieces to hold.”
“You give your reticule and fan to Lady Althea whilst you dance, miss.”
“I'm delighted to hear it. I wish you were coming too; it seems unfair only one abigail is allowed to accompany us.”
A tap on the door reminded Emily she was late. Jenny opened the door and a footman announced that the carriage was waiting outside. In a swirl of green silk Emily followed him along passageways and downstairs. Halfway down she risked a glance over the banisters. She stopped dead.
“Mama, you look
Lady Althea smiled up at her daughter, poised like a green angel, on the stairs. “And so do you, my love. What a spectacular pair we shall be. You will be surrounded by eligible young men, just you wait and see.”
Emily continued her descent and her gurgling laughter echoed round the entrance hall. “I hope not, Mama. I do not wish Sebastian to feel obliged to call anyone out.” Her humorous reply was sufficient reminder of her status.
“I really meant you will not lack for partners, my love. Even an engaged lady is permitted to dance with suitable young gentlemen. But no more than once, but I am sure you already understand that rule.”
“I do indeed. I'm only permitted to stand up more than once with my fiancé.”
A footman handed them into the carriage. Its candle lamps bobbed and dipped in the darkness, the two horses stamped, their breath swirling in clouds around their handsome heads. Edwards checked that Emily's silver- lined evening cloak was safely inside the coach and that Lady Althea's ruby-red creation was resting smoothly on the seat, then they were ready to leave.
“This is the first time I have been out in a city in the dark, Mama. It's a thrilling experience.” Emily peered out of the window, catching glimpses of street vendor's and late shoppers on the overcrowded pavements. As expected it was an hour before the carriage finally pulled up at the steps of Galveston House. Blazing flambeaux illuminated the illustrious company attempting to gain access. The steps were already full of ladies of various ages dressed in their finest, and gentleman in black tailcoats and knee-breeches or pantaloons.
Emily stared at the jostling people on the steps with horror. She hated crowds. “I think I shall go home again, Mama. I have a headache.”
Lady Althea stared hard at her daughter. “You shall do no such thing, Emily. We are here now, and whether you like it or not, in we will go.”
Emily's shoulders drooped and her mother's expression softened. “You do not have to remain long if you are truly unwell, my love. Edwards will be waiting in a withdrawing-room and she can summon the carriage to return whenever you wish.”
A liveried footman, his gold frogging glittering in the torchlight, assisted them from the carriage. Edwards shook out their skirts and they shuffled forward with the rest. Once inside Emily began to enjoy herself. There was so much to see. There were older guests still wearing elaborate wigs and white face paint with black beauty spots. Some gentlemen were still dressed in the earlier fashion of brightly coloured evening coats, bedecked with silver and huge gold buttons.
Girls of similar age to her were, she noticed, uniformly dressed in white or pastel shades. For an instant she wished had paid heed to her mother, but then she held up her head and her beautiful hazel eyes flashed defiantly. She was not an insipid debutante on the lookout for a rich husband; she had a ring already on her finger.
At last Emily and her mother were making their curtsey. Lady Galveston greeted them with unrestrained delight. Much kissing of cheeks and exclaiming took place before they were sent on their way to join the milling crowd thronging the Grand Salon. Lady Althea sailed ahead, the ostrich feathers in her head waving gaily.
“We shall sit here, my love, close to the dance floor.” A lovely blonde girl sitting demurely on a chair next to her own mama smiled a welcome.
Emily smiled back. “I am Emily Gibson; this is my very first ball.” Her neighbour glanced to her mother for permission before answering.
“I am Maria Fitzwilliam. I came out this summer, and this is only the third ball I have attended.”
Lady Althea nodded to Mrs Fitzwilliam and she nodded back. Contact established the older woman settled down for a comfortable coze. The Fitzwilliam's were an excellent family and extremely well-connected. Edwards disappeared, discreetly, with their cloaks and Emily's spare slippers.
A footman approached with a tray of champagne, followed closely by one with a tray of orgeat. The trays appeared identical. With a grin at her new friend Emily daringly selected champagne, Maria sensibly took the non- alcoholic beverage.
Maria spotted Emily's engagement ring. Long gloves were
“Miss Gibson, you are betrothed. How lucky you are. I have still to find anyone remotely suitable.”
Lady Althea smiled at her disingenuous remark. “Viscount Yardley is an excellent match. My father, the Earl of Westerham, is delighted that his heir is to marry his granddaughter.”
Maria was suitably impressed and Mrs Fitzwilliam as delighted as their hostess that such a lovely young heiress was already off the marriage mart.
“Are you expecting Viscount Yardley to attend tonight?” Maria inquired politely.
“No; I believe he is otherwise engaged. He is a diplomat and his time is not his own.” Lady Althea answered.
Emily sipped her drink, enjoying the way the bubbles tickled her nose. It tasted delicious, cold and crisp. She took a large swallow and to her astonishment her world appeared to tilt alarmingly. Could it be her injury or this innocuous looking drink?
An ungloved, male hand, reached over and removed the glass from her grasp. “I believe, my love, that you have mistakenly selected champagne.”
Her eyes flew up to meet the amused gaze of her fiancé. She was about to protest when a warning in his eyes made her swallow the words. She smiled ruefully as he pulled her to her feet.
“I did not expect to see you here tonight, Sebastian, but I am pleased, of course, that you have come.”
All four women were now on their feet. He bowed deeply to Lady Althea. “I am delighted to see you looking so well, Lady Althea. It is quite clear from whom your daughter has inherited her beauty.”
Lady Althea simpered and quite forgot she did not like her great-nephew. “Allow me to introduce Mrs Fitzwilliam and her daughter, Miss Fitzwilliam, to you, my lord.”
He bowed to Mrs Fitzwilliam and nodded and smiled at Maria. “I believe the first set is forming, shall we go, my dear?”
Emily was given no choice in the matter, but was whisked away down the ballroom to join the other couples. She was not usually lost for words, but this handsome man, resplendent in full evening rig, his blonde hair shining, his cravat falling in snowy folds, held in place by a single emerald pin, was like a stranger. A very attractive stranger.
She had seen him in his riding gear and in his country evening apparel but dressed as he was, in black, he looked magnificent. Every debutante's dream, a real-life Prince Charming. Then she recalled that scarcely three days before he had knocked her unconscious and she still had the bruise to prove it.
She attempted to snatch her arm from his but his grip tightened. He bent his mouth to whisper in her ear, to onlookers it appeared merely the gesture of a man besotted, but they could not hear his words.
“You will not cause a scene here, Emily. You are a child no longer, it would do you good to remember that.”
She tried a second time, more subtly, to remove her hand. “I will not stand up with you and neither will I marry you. You're an unspeakable brute,” she hissed.
“If you persist in this nonsense you will see just how much of a brute I can be, my girl. Now, behave yourself. This is not the time for such discussions.”
“Then when? I promise you, I will not dance until I have an answer I am satisfied with.”
“We will talk later on the terrace, after this dance is finished.” Her resistance ceased and with a false smiled pinned to her face she allowed him to guide her to the set. She dipped and curtsied, skipped and galloped when
