prospect. The other girl, now, was different. She had neither looks nor character to attract during a chance meeting, but there was a great deal more to her than met the eye. He had sensed that she might be worth getting to know. And he was to waltz with her this evening.
'I don't know about you,' Algernon said as the carriage slowed to join the back of the line of conveyances approaching the entrance to the Simpson residence, 'but I plan to disappear into the card room as soon as I may.'
'But you have promised two dances,' David reminded him.
'True,' Algernon sighed. 'And the Simpsons are usually niggardly with the waltzes. Bet there will be no more than three or four altogether. We can play cards between times, David, and still fulfill our obligations. Rache is a marvel. She can dance the night away and still look as fresh as a daisy on Bond Street the next morning.' He chuckled. 'She likes being twirled in the waltz, just as if one were turning corners every moment. You were best to remember that, m'boy.'
David laughed and peered out through the window at the impressive sight of liveried footmen helping ball guests from their carriages onto the red carpet that had been laid out for the occasion.
Rachel was trying to stand very still. Why did it happen to her far more than to any other young girl that her gown needed repair during balls? This ball had not even started yet and she had caught the hem of her pink underdress on the edge of a chair and torn such a gash in it that she had had to retire to the withdrawing room for repairs to be made. A maid was busy with needle and thread while Rachel stood patiently talking to Celia.
'It really will not show,' Celia told her. 'Be thankful that it was not the lace that tore. The gown really does look glorious.'
'Well, so does yours,' Rachel assured her magnanimously. 'I told you, did I not, that that dark blue shade would be fare more becoming than the light color you picked out?'
'Yes, I think you are right,' Celia said, glancing at her reflection in a mirror, pleased. 'You always are. You have a far better dress sense than I.'
'It is a matter of common sense, really,' Rachel said. 'You have pale coloring, Celia, and light hair. It is perfectly obvious that your clothes must be in vivid colors. And of simple design. Those small flounces are just the thing. I do hope Algie will be on time tonight. He almost never is. The first waltz is the second set of the evening. I would hate to have to dance it with someone else. I do feel quite embarrassed about what happened this morning, by the way.'
'It comes of your habit of speaking before you think,' Celia said without trying to comfort her friend. 'You know I do not like other people to solicit partners for me, Rachel. All the time I am dancing with them I think that they would probably rather be anywhere than with me. Lord Rivers is a perfect gentleman, but still I have heard him say that he does not particularly enjoy dancing.'
'Oh,' Rachel said, biting her lower lip and looking even more guilty, 'you mean my asking Algie if he would dance the second waltz with you. But how silly, Celia. He will not mind in the least. He knows that you are my particular friend, you see.'
'But still, Rachel,' Celia said firmly, 'no more, please. I had rather sit among the chaperones all evening than have a single gentleman coerced into dancing with me.'
'Well, Mr. Gower was not coerced,' Rachel pointed out. 'He asked you of his own free will.'
'More to save me from some embarrassment, I think,' Celia said. 'But what was it that you were feeling embarrassed about?'
'Asking Mr. Gower to waltz with me,' Rachel said. 'How dreadfully forward of me, Celia. What must he think of me, do you suppose?'
'He probably thinks that you are a rather giddy young lady,' Celia said mercilessly.
Rachel grimaced. 'I was afraid so,' she said.
Indeed since the morning she had recovered her senses to quite a marked degree. She had been presented to a perfect stranger in the middle of a public street and she had both fallen in love with him and solicited his hand for a waltz at a ball that evening. What a dreadfully lowering admission to have to make to herself. How vulgar! And how ridiculous when it had turned out that the stranger was a clergyman and the new vicar of her own parish to boot.
He really was dreadfully handsome, of course. But no, it was not his looks merely that had had her reacting so foolishly. It was that character she had detected behind his face and his eyes that had attracted her. But still, she did not know him. Not at all. It was more than stupid to think of being in love with him. And what would she do with such an infatuation anyway? She could never look on the man as a prospective husband. She was going to make a dazzling match when she married. Or failing that, she was going to marry Algie.
And that would sound dreadful too if she had put the thought into words, she thought, watching the maid cut the thread and smooth out the silk underdress and its covering of Brussels lace. There would be nothing whatsoever wrong with marrying Algie. He was a baron, perfectly well-set-up, quite respectable. She thought it entirely possible that she would marry him, and from choice too. She really did love Algie. It was just that marriage to him would not seem dazzling in any way. Comfortable, yes. Secure, yes. Dazzling, no.
Well, she thought, twirling before the mirror to make sure that the mended gown still fell perfectly to the floor, she was going to enjoy the evening. The first waltz with Algie. The second with Mr. Gower. She should not have asked him for that dance, but since she had, she was going to enjoy it, and she was going to show herself that he was merely an attractive man. She was not in any danger of losing her heart to him. Very far from it.
And the opening set was to be danced with the Marquess of Stanford. That had been a huge surprise. The man was known as one of the most eligible and elusive bachelors on the market. Not even on the market really. He must be well into his thirties already and showed no sign of giving up his single status, though he was wealthy, attractive, and charming, and had had mamas scheming for his capture for years. He very rarely singled out any of the young unmarried girls for any attention. And yet he had come up to her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, and before the accident with her gown, bowed and smiled, and entered his name on her card next to the opening set.
'We had better go, Celia,' she said now, smiling her gratitude to the maid who had repaired her gown, 'or we will miss the first set. Mr. Pope is to lead you out?'
'Yes,' her friend replied. 'And you are to dance with the Marquess of Stanford, Rachel? You will be the envy of every female at the ball.'
'I do hope Algie arrives before the waltz,' Rachel said. 'And Mr. Gower for you, of course.'
***
Lady Rachel Palmer was not difficult to spot in the ballroom, David found as soon as he and Algernon made their appearance halfway through the opening set. Perhaps it was because she was dancing with the Marquess of Stanford, a man who always seemed to draw all eyes his way. David remembered him from four years before when he had been in London last. Even at that time Stanford had been considered the catch of the marriage mart. He seemed able to combine those two fascinating qualities of warm charm and elusiveness. And it seemed he still wove his magic. David did not think that his were the only eyes on the couple.
There were Algie's, for example. He was actually watching them through a quizzing glass, a half-smile on his lips.
'Trust Rache!' he said with a chuckle. 'Opening the Simpson ball with Stanford. She won't stop talking about it for a month.'
David looked at her. Yes, even without her present partner, she would still draw eyes her way. She was extremely lovely, of course, as he had not failed to notice that morning. In the ball gown, about which she had boasted earlier, she looked exquisite, her figure, which he had been unable to judge beneath her pelisse, quite perfect. Everything was beautifully in proportion. It was not just her figure and gown that drew the eye, though. Indeed, there were many ladies present almost equally as lovely. It was not her dark hair and eyes either.
There was something else about Lady Rachel. It was the life and energy radiating from her. One had only to look at her to see that she was totally absorbed in her enjoyment of the scene and the activity around her.
Yes, a very attractive young lady indeed. He would doubtless have been smitten by her had he met her a few years before. At that time beauty and liveliness had been the only important attributes in a female. He had not
