'If you would accompany me, sir, the admiral is receiving now.' There was a guilty thrill in being aware of the respect he was accorded by this flag-lieutenant and Kydd followed with his head held high. As a lesser mortal, Standish would have to wait.
His boat-cloak and hat were taken deftly in the small ante-room and after a nervous twitch at his cravat he stepped from the small foyer into noise, light and colour.
'Thank you, Flags. Ah, Kydd. Glad to see you, sir.' The admiral was in jovial mood, standing in the splendour of full-dress uniform, an intimidating figure. He turned to the two ladies who flanked him. 'My dear, Persephone, might I present Commander Kydd, now captain in one of my ships here? He's much talked about in the Mediterranean, you must believe.'
Kydd turned to the admiral's lady and bowed as elegantly as he could and was duly rewarded with a civil inclination of the head. 'I do hope you will enjoy this evening, Commander. I did have my fears of the weather,' she said loftily.
'An' I'm sure it will back westerly before sun-up, ma'am,' Kydd replied graciously. He was uncomfortably aware of straight-backed dignity and hard, appraising eyes. He tried to smile convincingly when he turned to the daughter.
There was a quick impression of a willowy figure in a filmy white high-waisted gown that bobbed decorously in response to his bow; when she rose, Kydd's eyes were met by amused hazel ones in a fashionably pale, patrician face. A neat gloved hand was extended elegantly.
'Miss L-Lockwood,' Kydd said, taking the hand. Renzi's polite words, learnt so laboriously, fled from his mind at the girl's cool beauty. 'M-my honour, er, is mine,' he stuttered.
'I do trust that you don't find England too dull after the Mediterranean, Mr Kydd—they do say that Naples is quite the most wicked city in the world.' The well-bred voice had an underlying gaiety that Kydd could not help responding to with a grin.
'Aye, there's sights in Naples would set ye—' Something warned him of Lady Lockwood's frosty stare and the admiral's frown and he concluded hastily '—that is t' say, we have Pompeii an' Herculano both rattlin' good places t' be.'
'Why, I shall certainly remember, should I ever have the good fortune to visit,' the daughter said demurely, but the laughter was still in her eyes. After a brief hesitation she withdrew her hand gently from Kydd's fingers.
The orchestra's subdued airs went almost unnoticed among the hubbub. While he waited for Standish to be received Kydd looked about him. The room was filled with laughter and noise, the occasional splash of military scarlet, and to Kydd the much more satisfying splendour of the blue, white and gold of the Royal Navy. Tiered chandeliers hung low from the lofty ceiling, shining brightly to set eyes and jewellery a-sparkle and lightly touching every lady with soft gold. He looked back: there were still some to be received but Standish was not among them —he had disappeared into the throng.
Kydd was alone. Glances were thrown in his direction but no one ventured to approach: he knew why—he had not been introduced to any other than the admiral's party and he was unknown. Purposefully, he strode into the room, neatly avoiding knots of people in just the same way as he would on the mess-deck in a seaway, clutching to his heart Renzi's strictures about politeness and genteel behaviour.
Then he found what he was searching for: a jolly-looking commander who was holding forth to a fellow officer and his shy-looking lady while controlling a champagne glass with practised ease. Kydd hovered until the reminiscence was concluded but before he could step forward the man turned to him. 'What cheer, m' lad? Are you here for the dancing or . . . ?'
'Oh, er, dancing would be capital fun,' Kydd said stiffly, then added, with a courtly bow, 'Commander Thomas Kydd o'
'Well, Commander Thomas Kydd, first we must see ye squared away wi' a glass.' He signalled to a footman discreetly. 'Bazely, sir, Edmund Bazely out o'
Kydd loosened; the champagne was cool and heady and his trepidation was changing by degrees into an irresistible surge of excitement. 'Aye, so it seems, f'r my sins.'
'An' new to our charming Devonshire?'
'Too new, Mr Bazely. All m' service has been foreign since— since I was a younker, an' I'm amazed at how I'm t' take aboard enough t' keep
'All foreign? Ye're t' be reckoned lucky, Kydd. As a midshipman I can recollect mooning about in a seventy-four at Spithead and with no more sea service than a convoy to the Downs for all o' two years.' He mused for a moment, then recollected himself. 'But we have a whole evening looming ahead. If ye'll excuse us, Mrs Parlby, I want to introduce m' foreign friend here to some others.' As they moved slowly towards the side of the room he chuckled. 'No lady in tow—I take it from this ye have no ties, Kydd?'
'None.'
'Then where better to make your acquaintance wi' the female sex than tonight?' They reached a group of young ladies with fans fluttering, deep in excited gossip. They turned as one and fell silent as the two officers approached, fans stilled.
'Miss Robbins, Miss Amelia Wishart, Miss Emily Wishart, Miss Townley, might I present Commander Kydd?' Bazely said breezily. 'And be ye advised that he is captain o' the good ship
'Miss Townley is visiting from Falmouth,' he added amiably.
Kydd bowed to each, feeling their eyes on him as they bobbed in return; one bold, another shy, the others appraising. His mind scrambled to find something witty to say but he fell back on a feeble 'Y'r servant, ladies.'
'Mr Kydd, are you from these parts?' the bold-eyed Miss Robbins asked sweetly.
'Why, no, Miss Robbins, but I do hope t' make y'r closer acquaintance,' Kydd replied, but was taken aback when the young ladies fell into a sudden fit of smothered giggles.
Bazely laughed. 'If ye'd excuse me, m' dears, I have to return.
