At this point, deciding that valor was the better part of discretion, she let go of his arm and swept forward to join in the party.
She discovered immediately that the conversation was glittering and wildly brittle, full of bons mots and bright laughter,
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glances with intimate meaning. At another time, she might have felt excluded, but today she was here just to observe. The few people who spoke to her she answered without effort to be entertaining, half her mind absorbed with watching everyone else.
The women were all expensively dressed, and seemed full of self-assurance. They moved easily from group to group, and flirted with a skill that Charlotte both envied and deplored. She could no more have achieved it than grown wings to fly. Even the plainest ones seemed peculiarly gifted in this particular skill, exhibiting wit and a certain panache.
The men were every bit as fashionable: coats exquisitely cut, cravats gorgeous, hair exaggeratedly long and with waves many a woman would have been proud of. For once, Dominic seemed unremarkable. His chiseled features were discreet, his clothes sober by comparison-and she discovered she greatly preferred them.
One lean young man with beautiful hands and a passionately sensitive face stood alone at a table, his dark gray eyes on the pianist gently rippling a Chopin nocturne on the grand piano. She wondered for a moment if he felt as misplaced here as she did. There was an unhappiness in his face, a sense of underlying grief that he sought to distract, and failed. Could he be Esmond Vanderley?
She turned to find Dominic. 'Who is he?' she whispered.
'Lord Frederick Turner,' he replied, his face shadowing with an emotion she did not understand. It was a mixture of dislike and something else, indefinable. 'I don't see Vanderley, yet.' He took her firmly by the elbow and pushed her forward. 'Let us go through the next room. He may be there.' Short of pulling herself free by force, she had no choice but to move as he directed.
A few people drifted up and spoke with Dominic, and he introduced Charlotte as his sister-in-law Miss Ellison. The conversation was trivial and bright; she gave it little of her attention. A striking woman with very black hair addressed them and skillfully led Dominic off, grasping his arm in an easy, intimate gesture, and Charlotte found herself suddenly alone.
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A violinist was playing something that seemed to have neither beginning nor end. Within moments, she was approached by a Byronically handsome man with bold eyes, full of candid humor.
'The music is inexpressibly tedious, is it not?' he remarked conversationally. 'I cannot imagine why they bother!'
'Perhaps to give those who desire it some easy subject with which to open a conversation?' she suggested coolly. She had not been introduced, and he was taking something of a liberty.
It seemed to amuse him, and he regarded her quite openly, looking at her shoulders and throat with admiration. She was furious to realize from the heat she felt in her skin that she was blushing. It was the very last thing she wished!
'You have not been here before,' he observed.
'You must come very regularly to know that.' She allowed considerable acid into her tone. 'I am surprised, if you find it so uninteresting.'
'Only the music.' He shook his head a little. 'And I am an optimist. I come in permanent hope of some delightful adventure. Who could have foretold that I should meet you here?'
'You have not met me!' She tried to freeze him with an icy glance, but he was impervious; in fact, it appeared to entertain him the more. 'You have scraped an acquaintance, which I do not intend to continue!'' she added.
He laughed aloud, a pleasant sound of true enjoyment.
'You know, my dear, you are quite individual! I believe I shall have a delicious evening with you, and you will find I am neither ungenerous nor overly demanding.'
Suddenly it all became abominably clear to her-this was a place of assignation! Many of these women were
