looked for any greater depth of character. He now thought now it was a shame that girls such as Lady Rachel should be raised and educated in such a way that all their energies became devoted to the pursuit of frivolity.
David smiled to himself. He was at a ball, and what activity could be more frivolous? He might as well enjoy it. And indeed there was a certain delight in looking around yet again at a lavishly decorated room, heavy with the sight and scent of flowers, bright with the light from myriad candles, gay with the gowns and waistcoats and evening coats of fashionable dancers.
He looked around the room and located Miss Barnes, dancing with a young man he had not seen before. The waltz for which he was to partner her was next, he had learned. She looked quite pretty, dressed far more becomingly than she had been that morning. But she was not the sort of figure to draw attention. And yet she undoubtedly had far greater depth of character than her friend.
'Algie!' The set was over, Lord Stanford had already executed his bow and left Rachel, and a small cluster of her loyal followers was already hovering around her. She was hurrying toward the two of them, her face beaming with all the sunshine of her gaiety. 'How fortunate that you spoke up for the first waltz earlier. My card is quite full already, and here is Sir Thomas Rey trying to persuade me to scrub out one name and insert his. I have been telling him how very naughty he is even to suggest such a thing.'
David smiled when her eyes moved with a rush over Algie's shoulder and met his. Her flush of excitement seemed to deepen. 'Good evening, Mr. Gower,' she said. 'Are you the one I must thank for getting Algie here on time? He has a dreadful habit of being late, you know. I was quite fearful that he would not be here in time for our waltz. I would never have recovered from the mortification of being a wallflower.'
David bowed. 'I believe you have his valet to thank this evening, Lady Rachel,' he said. 'The man was in top form and ruined only four neckcloths before achieving the creation you see before your eyes.'
Rachel giggled and tapped her fan against Algernon's arm. 'It is splendid, Algie,' she said. 'You look very distinguished.'
David turned to Celia, whose partner had brought her to join the group. 'Miss Barnes,' he said, 'how very charming you look in blue. Am I still to partner you for the waltz?'
She curtsied and blushed as she smiled back at him.
***
The second waltz of the evening was also the supper dance, Rachel had noticed as soon as she had consulted her program. She did not know quite if she looked forward to it or not. It was still dreadfully embarrassing to remember that she had asked Mr. Gower for the dance while on Bond Street that morning. And now he would not only have to dance with her, but he must also lead her in to supper and converse with her there until the dancing began again.
What if he had no wish to do either? What a dreadfully lowering thought! It would not normally have entered Rachel's head. She had grown to assume that most gentlemen sought out her company with some eagerness. But Mr. Gower was not most gentlemen. She rather suspected that he was quite different, in fact. And so she felt distinctly uneasy about the approach of the waltz.
He had not even glanced at her since greeting her at the end of the first set. She could swear it because, annoyingly, she had glanced at him a great many times. He had remained in the ballroom, unlike Algie and many of the other gentlemen, who disappeared quite frequently, probably into the card room, she suspected. And he had danced each set. He had talked almost constantly with Celia during the waltz. She had wondered what they had found to talk about. It was true that she had prattled almost nonstop to Algie, but then she always talked, while Celia rarely did.
And Mr. Gower had danced with several of those giggly girls who usually huddled together in groups. They must have been pleased. Several of them hardly ever danced. That was probably the reason they stayed so close to one another, and was also perhaps the reason Mr. Gower asked them, Rachel thought with a pang of guilt for the scorn she had often felt for those girls. Was the man teaching her a lesson in compassion?
But not a single glance at her. She did not know why she should feel chagrin at the fact. Plenty of other men had paid a great deal of attention to her. She was still feeling a glow of triumph at having danced with the Marquess of Stanford. And he was indeed charming. And attractive. He was possibly too thin, his face too angular to be called handsome. But definitely attractive. And he had looked at her appreciatively all the time they danced. He had made her feel as if she were the only lady worth looking at in the whole room.
Mr. Gower had looked at her in no such way. After making that one joke at Algie's expense, he had turned to Celia and focused entirely on a conversation with her. And Rachel had not failed to notice that he had given Celia quite as much of his attention as the marquess had given her.
She really did not want more for herself, did she? He just happened to be a very attractive man whom she had been unwise enough to admire before learning who he was. And even if she had not known this evening that he was a country vicar, she would surely have noticed that he was not the sort of man in whom it was wise to become interested. His evening clothes were not shabby by any means, but they were quite noticeably not new. And they were quite unadorned by fobs or chains or jewels. In fact, he looked plainly dressed in comparison with Algie.
And yet, she admitted to herself, it was understandable that she had become so easily infatuated that morning. He had a physique that made one scarcely notice his attire, and a face that could make one ignore both. It was his face that kept drawing her eyes against her will. He smiled constantly, yet not in that bright, artificial way of most people on such occasions. There seemed to be an enormous kindliness behind his smile. A great happiness even. But why should he not be happy? He was in London, in attendance at a grand ton ball.
Rachel frowned at the complexity of her own thoughts. It was not that kind of happiness, though. There was something about Mr. Gower that drew her, yet she really could not explain to herself what it was. All she did know was that she felt uncomfortable as gentlemen began to take their partners for the waltz. For once she did not know quite how she was to behave, what she was to say. Pointless to tell herself to behave naturally. Once one became aware of oneself, it was impossible to behave as one normally would.
She smiled gaily as she placed a hand in his and followed him onto the floor. 'Are you not enjoying yourself immensely?' she asked, placing one hand on his broad shoulder and feeling the warmth of his hand against her waist. 'I think there is no pleasure so exquisite as dancing. I always wish a ball would never come to an end.'
'That would be all sugar with no bread and vegetables,' he said with that smile that barely moved the muscles of his face. It was there behind his eyes and lurking at the corners of his mouth. 'Do you not think that you would become weary after two or three days and nights of continuous dancing?'
She giggled. 'I did not intend to be taken quite so literally, sir,' she said. 'Yes, I doubtless would be feeling rather footsore by perhaps the middle of August.'
'But your sentiment was quite right,' he said. 'This is a lovely ball. The music is irresistible.' And Rachel lost her breath for a moment as he twirled her unexpectedly in the middle of the floor.
'You are not a Puritan then?' she asked. 'You do not frown upon such trivial pleasures?'
'I am here, am I not?' he said. 'And dancing. It is not obligatory for a clergyman to walk around with a sober frown, you know. Indeed, if you know the Bible at all well, Lady Rachel, you will know that dancing has always been man's way of expressing exuberant spirits, even the spirit of praise and worship. Do you know the Psalms?'
Rachel grimaced. 'Indeed, yes,' she said. 'The Bible is Papa's favorite book, and he tries constantly to make it everyone else's in his family.'
He grinned. 'Without much success?' he asked.
'Oh, I do think I would enjoy dancing before the Lord,' she said. 'I have always fancied that idea. Unfortunately, it is not Papa's way of appreciating the Bible. We more commonly sit soberly in the drawing room passing the book from hand to hand so that all may read a passage aloud for the edification of the others.'
She giggled, and he smiled down at her.
'But what a very strange topic of conversation for a ball,' she said.
'I find that people invariably feel obliged to introduce some pious topic into the conversation as soon as they know I am a clergyman,' David said, a twinkle in his eye. 'It seems we are seen as something of a race apart.'
Rachel was disconcerted. She had no wish to give an impression of herself as a pious hypocrite. She smiled gaily again and set herself to chatter about trivialities for the remainder of the set. But why was it that she felt she had lost his attention? She had not. He looked at her and at no one else all the time they danced, and participated in each topic of conversation she introduced. His manner did not become either cold or distant. His eyes continued to smile.
