Many of Lady Sally’s guests had already arrived and the air was thick with perfume and the scent of fresh flowers. The sound of a string quartet tinkled in the background and servants passed unobtrusively through the throng, offering glasses of champagne and lemonade.
‘We have only an impromptu dance tonight, my dears,’ Lady Sally said, as she ushered them through into the Great Hall. ‘Society in the Midwinter villages seems sadly lacking these days, with Lord and Lady Newlyn gone to Cornwall on their honeymoon and the Duke of Kestrel and his brother up in London-’
‘Richard Kestrel is gone to London?’ Deb enquired. She felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. ‘I thought that he had promised to be here tonight.’
‘No, it is not Lord Richard who is absent,’ Lady Sally said, laughing. ‘Justin and Lucas Kestrel are gone, as you know. Richard remains in Midwinter for the time being.’
Deb bit her lip, annoyed to have betrayed an interest. ‘Oh, how unfortunate,’ she said. ‘I keep wondering when he will be leaving.’
Lady Sally viewed her face with shrewd amusement. ‘Would you prefer to exchange Lord Richard for one of his brothers, Deborah? A pity, when he told me that he was looking forward to dancing with you this evening!’
Deborah set her lips tightly. Lord Richard had given her fair warning, after all. The prospect of crossing swords with him again filled her with a shivery anticipation.
But even as she thought it, she saw Lord Richard through the crowd, chatting to Lady Benedict of Midwinter Bere. Lady Benedict was a most elegant woman and her exquisite gown of pale lilac with an overdress of pearl- sewn gauze made Deborah feel rather provincial in her own two-year-old rose pink satin. Lord Richard seemed very taken with his current companion and, although he met Deb’s eye and inclined his head with studied courtesy, he made no move to leave Lady Benedict’s side. Deb, who had never even entertained the idea of having a rival until that moment, and still less of feeling piqued if Lord Richard showed a lack of interest in her, was suddenly assailed by the alien emotion of jealousy. It seemed that in a short space of time she had begun to consider Lord Richard Kestrel her property. She stared at him for several seconds longer than she ought, saw him glance back at her with raised brows and realised that once again she had given her feelings away. She felt the red colour mantle her face and clash horribly with the pink satin dress. She turned abruptly away, wondering if she would ever achieve the town bronze that she desired.
‘Allow me to introduce you to Mr Owen Chance,’ Lady Sally said, smoothing over the awkward moment. ‘Mr Chance is but recently come to Woodbridge to visit his uncle and aunt, the Jacksons of Church Place. Mr Chance, may I introduce the Honourable Mrs Deborah Stratton from Mallow House?’
Lady Sally smiled impartially on them and moved away to speak to some of her other guests, leaving Deb and Mr Chance looking at each other with a cautious friendship.
Owen Chance was a well set-up young man of about five and twenty, with an open, friendly face and a laugh that came easily. It quickly became apparent that he found Deb a charming companion, and although Deb discovered that her attention was inclined to stray to Lord Richard Kestrel with the same predictability of a compass swinging to north, with concentration she could keep her gaze riveted on Mr Chance instead. They enjoyed two dances together, a quadrille and a country dance, by which time Deb’s card was starting to fill with other partners. Owen Chance then reclaimed her for supper in Lady Sally’s artfully decorated conservatory, and they had the opportunity of furthering their acquaintance.
The conservatory had been decorated in a rustic style with coloured lamps hung from the ceiling and the water splashing into small rock pools amongst the greenery. Deb thought that Olivia should be in ecstasy to see such picturesque decoration, for horticulture was an interest that she shared with Lady Sally. Olivia, however, was still looking rather glum. As she chatted to Mr Chance, Deb watched her sister, who was taking supper with Mr Lang and his wife and daughter. The vicar was a thin man who looked as though he were sucking on vinegar, and his wife was a plump woman with an aggrieved expression. No one in the party appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Ross Marney, in contrast, was dining with Lady Sally herself, and seemed to be having a splendid time. Deb noted that he filled his own and Lady Sally’s wineglass with abandon, and at one point it seemed he was about to commit the somewhat questionable act of feeding his hostess with strawberries from his own spoon. Deb felt a little chilled at the sight, and embarrassed to see that Owen Chance had also observed it. In her opinion, Ross was behaving disgracefully and, whilst Lady Sally was gently restraining his wilder excesses, something simply had to be done. Deb decided to tackle Ross about his deplorable conduct.
Her opportunity arose when Mr Chance went to claim his cousin, Miss Jackson, for the polonaise, and Sir John Norton came to ask Lady Sally to dance. Deb was about to slip into Lady Sally’s vacated seat when she saw Richard Kestrel come across and have a word in Ross’s ear. Richard threw a smiling glance in Olivia’s direction, and Deb saw Ross smile ruefully in return, run his hand through his tousled dark hair and get to his feet. To Deb’s surprise, Ross then went across to the Langs’ table and gave his wife a very creditable bow. The two of them headed towards the ballroom and Lord Richard Kestrel, smiling slightly, came across to Deb’s table.
‘Good evening, Mrs Stratton,’ he said, with a bow.
‘Good evening, Lord Richard,’ Deb said coldly. She had forgotten her earlier vow to rebuff him, but she did remember how elegant Lady Benedict had looked hanging on his arm-and how pleased Richard had appeared to have her attention. Just the thought of it made her determined to freeze him.
Richard gestured to the empty seat beside her. ‘May I?’
‘If you wish.’
Richard sat. ‘Your tone implied that that might be in doubt, Mrs Stratton,’ he said, smiling sardonically. ‘I assured you earlier that I was looking forward to our meeting.’
‘So you did,’ Deb said, feigning nonchalance and hoping that she could carry it off. ‘I had forgot.’
Richard’s smiled broadened and challenged the truth of her statement.
‘Indeed?’ he said. ‘And I am disappointed that you have not yet delivered the cut direct, but perhaps you are saving yourself for a particularly acerbic set down?’
Deb smiled, despite herself. ‘I am sure that I can come up with a suitable snub,’ she said, ‘if you will just give me a moment. You took me by surprise, my lord. I thought that Lady Benedict was your companion of choice for the evening.’
Lord Richard’s sardonic smile deepened. ‘I see. I hope that you felt suitably jealous, ma’am?’
‘Jealous? Not I!’ Deb said, with an airy wave of the hand. ‘It would be too much to expect you to confine your attentions to one lady.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ Richard looked vaguely offended.
‘Of course,’ Deb said. ‘You are as fickle as the day is long, my lord. Everyone says so.’
‘You should trust your own judgement rather than the observations of others, ma’am,’ Richard said.
‘Oh, I do.’ Deb toyed with her glass, then looked up and met his eyes. ‘When we met this afternoon I told you that I considered you faithless and unreliable and downright dangerous-’ She broke off, realising that her tone demonstrated her feelings for him more clearly than any words. She looked down, vexed, and concentrated rather intensely on the leftover strawberries in the bowl.
A second later, Richard’s hand covered hers and stilled her fidgeting fingers. ‘You should give me the chance to show myself faithful,’ he said. ‘You might be surprised.’
Deb summoned up all her resistance. ‘I should be surprised,’ she said tartly. ‘Very surprised.’
Richard’s grip tightened for a second. ‘Take a risk,’ he said softly. ‘After all, you also told me this afternoon that you were drawn to me.’
Deb set her jaw. ‘I caught the measles when I was a child, my lord,’ she said, ‘but I recovered. It is in no way a fatal affliction.’
The warmth in Richard’s gaze threatened to overset her.
‘It is not a flattering comparison, ma’am,’ he said, ruefully, ‘but I take your point.’
His wry appreciation of her words made Deb feel ungracious. She almost apologised, but managed to stop herself in time. She cleared her throat and struggled to find a less personal topic of conversation.
‘I was about to ring a peal over my brother-in-law when you intervened in my place just now,’ she said. She frowned as she thought about it. ‘Whatever did you say to Ross, my lord, to send him hurrying to solicit Olivia for a dance?’
Richard laughed and sat back in his chair. ‘Why, I merely told him that if he did not snap up his beautiful wife, some other man would be there before him. It works every time.’
Deb looked enquiring. ‘What does?’
