Читать книгу A Worthy Gentleman - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 12

‘I am sorry you are not coming with us,’ Sarah said as she kissed Arabella’s cheek that morning. ‘I shall miss you, but I understand why you would rather remain here.’ She glanced at her mother, who was ordering the servants about unnecessarily and hovering in a flustered manner as their baggage was stowed on the coach. ‘I dare say you will be glad to have your home to yourself again, Belle.’

‘No, not at all,’ Arabella assured her with a smile. ‘Mama does fuss a little, I admit, but she means well, Sarah. I know she is anxious for you to marry, but it is because she wants you to be happy—truly happy. And I think you are not.’

‘I am happy enough,’ Sarah told her, avoiding her sympathetic gaze. ‘But I shall not be happy if Mama pushes me into marriage with a man I do not love.’

‘Charles will not allow that, I promise you,’ Arabella said and kissed her cheek. ‘If your mama is difficult, tell us, Sarah. Charles will stand by you, though it is his dearest wish to see you happily settled—but only with the gentleman of your choice.’

‘Thank you, you have been so kind,’ Sarah said. ‘If it were not for you and Nana, I might have died when I was so ill. You took me in when I did not know my own name and made me want to live again.’

‘We are as sisters,’ Arabella said and smiled at her. ‘I know your heart as well as you do, Sarah. I shall not embarrass you, but you must not give up hope, dearest. John is in some kind of trouble at the moment but I am sure that he still cares for you.’

‘Oh, Belle…’ Sarah’s throat was tight with tears. She embraced her sister-in-law once more and then turned as her mother called to her impatiently. ‘I am coming, Mama.’

Their farewells over, Sarah climbed into the carriage after her mother and waved to Arabella from the window. Charles was standing by her side, his arm about her waist. He lifted his hand in salute, then looked down at his wife, bending his head to kiss her briefly on her forehead. They were smiling at each other, lost in their own private world. Sarah sat back against the squabs, a little sigh issuing from her lips.

‘Charles might have come up with us,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘I am sure Arabella would not have minded.’

‘He will come in a few days,’ Sarah said. ‘We do not need him, Mama. We managed well enough in Italy, if you recall.’

‘In Italy we had the Conte to look after us,’ Mrs Hunter said with a touch of asperity. ‘Such a perfect gentleman, such exquisite manners—’

Sarah played with the strings of her velvet reticule. Her mother had not stopped talking about the Conte di Ceasares, and the chance Sarah had wasted, since his letter had arrived.

‘He was very kind,’ Sarah admitted. ‘But I did not love him, Mama. Surely you wish me to be happy?’

‘It is because I wish you to be happy that I am reminding you of what you have lost. You are such a stubborn girl,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘Well, I am giving you your chance. If you do not take it, you will have only yourself to blame if you sink into a lonely old age, reduced to caring for your nephews and nieces. I shall not always be here for you.’

‘Oh, Mama,’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘You will live for many years yet, I hope.’

‘That is as may be,’ her mother said. ‘Think about your situation if you do not marry, Sarah. Do you always wish to be a guest in other people’s homes? Surely you wish for a home and children?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah said. ‘But please allow me time to make up my mind, Mama. I do not wish to make a mistake about something as important as marriage.’

Mrs Hunter gave her a meaningful look. ‘Time is shorter than you think, Sarah. You will be one and twenty in a few months; if you are not careful, you may find yourself left on the shelf.’

Sarah did not answer. She turned to glance out of the window. They had left the estate now and were travelling through open countryside. The moors at this point were wide and slightly undulating with only a few scrubby bushes and stunted trees on the horizon. She glanced back at her mother, who had closed her eyes and, being an indifferent traveller, was possibly already wishing that they were at the end of their journey.

In her heart Sarah knew that her mama was right. Her life would be as empty as the bleak moors if she did not marry. It was perhaps her duty to keep an open mind on the subject of marriage.

‘It is so good to see you again,’ Lady Tate said, giving Sarah a kiss on her cheek. ‘Both Tilda and I have been looking forward to your visit.’

‘Is Tilda here?’ Sarah asked as the housekeeper helped her off with her travelling cloak. ‘It seems ages since you left Italy to come home, Aunt Hester. Arabella sends her love, as does Charles. He is coming up for a few days soon, but Arabella does not wish to travel at the moment.’

‘I had a letter from her,’ Lady Tate said and smiled. Although Sarah was not actually her niece, she had always loved her and they were very close. ‘I shall go down to the country in two months’ time and stay for her confinement.’

‘Sarah, my dearest…’ Tilda came out into the hall then, and Sarah went to greet her as Lady Tate turned to Mrs Hunter. ‘You are here at last. It seems an age since we were together in Italy.’

They embraced and then Tilda accompanied Sarah up to her room, chattering about various invitations that had already come in. Lady Tate had let it be known that her great friend Selina Hunter and her daughter Sarah were to visit her, and, as the Season was just beginning, the cards had begun to pile up.

‘It is good to see you,’ Sarah said. ‘I am glad to see that the scars have healed considerably, Tilda.’

Tilda put a hand to her face and smiled wryly. ‘I was never a great beauty, my dear. The smallpox has not ruined my chances of a great marriage, for I never had any. I am just so grateful to be alive—and I owe that to you, Sarah. Had you not cared for me so devotedly, I am sure I should have died.’

‘I dare say one of the maids would have done all I did,’ Sarah replied modestly. ‘But I did not wish to leave you to a stranger’s care, Tilda.’

‘It was fortunate for me,’ Tilda said. ‘A servant might have cared for me, but not as lovingly, my dear. I shall never forget your kindness and, if ever I may be of service to you…’

‘Thank you,’ Sarah said and shook her head. She did not wish Tilda to feel obliged to her. ‘But I do not think there is anything I need—except a suitable husband. Mama is still cross with me because I refused the Conte in Italy—but though I liked him very well, I did not love him.’

‘There was someone else,’ Tilda said and frowned. ‘Mr Elworthy married, did he not? I think he is a widower of some months now.’

‘Yes, I have seen John,’ Sarah said and her eyes clouded with disappointment. ‘I believe he is still grieving for his wife.’

‘I do not think it was a love match between them,’ Tilda said and looked thoughtful. She had heard some disturbing rumours concerning Mr Elworthy quite recently, but did not know whether to believe them. She would certainly say nothing to Sarah for the moment. ‘It may be that he thinks you still prefer not to marry, my dear.’

‘Perhaps…’ Sarah wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘Yet I do not believe he can have thought that…Perhaps it is just too soon.’ Perhaps she had misunderstood him and he had never cared for her as more than a friend.

‘Too soon for propriety? Yes, he may think that, because he has always been a perfect gentleman and behaves just as he ought,’ Tilda said. She could not think that the man who had done so much to help Arabella and Sarah could possibly have done anything to harm his wife, and decided to dismiss the rumour from her mind. ‘Perhaps you will meet him again soon.’

‘He did say he would come up for Lady Cavendish’s ball,’ Sarah said. ‘I have promised to save two dances for him.’

‘There you are, then,’ Tilda said and smiled at her affectionately. ‘When he sees you looking ravishing and dancing with other gentlemen, he will realise that he cares, and then I am sure he will ask you to marry him. Besides, you will meet a lot of gentlemen in the next few weeks and you may meet someone who sweeps you off your feet and makes you fall madly in love with him.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Sarah said, though she did not think it likely. ‘Now, tell me, Tilda, what have you been reading? I have a book of poetry in my trunk that I believe you will like…’

‘Have you read Northanger Abbey?’ Tilda asked. ‘I have been rereading it again, and I like it very well. Some people do not like it as well as her earlier books, of course. I think it is sad that Miss Austen has only been truly acknowledged since her death. Why do you imagine she was forced to publish under an assumed name while she lived?’

‘I have no idea, for her secret was known to many besides her family and friends,’ Sarah said. ‘I have read all her books, but I think I might like to read Northanger Abbey again when you have finished it, Tilda.’

‘Then of course you shall,’ her friend promised, smiling at her. ‘I am so glad that you have come to visit with us, Sarah. We shall have plenty of time to talk…’

‘Oh, yes,’ Sarah agreed. ‘I am sure that we shall…’

They had been in town four days, most of which had been spent shopping or visiting the seamstress to have fittings for all the new clothes her mama seemed to think she needed before she was fit to be seen in town. This morning, Sarah had escaped before her mama was up. Accompanying Tilda to the library to change Lady Tate’s books, she lingered to look into the window of a fashionable milliner’s just as a gentleman came out carrying a bandbox.

‘Miss Redmond,’ he said, tipping his hat. ‘And can it be Miss Hunter?’

Sarah glanced at his face and smiled. ‘Captain Hernshaw, how nice to see you,’ she said. ‘Are you on a visit home or have you left your post in Rome?’

‘I have been called back,’ Captain Hernshaw said. ‘I believe I am to be offered a safe seat for the Whigs at a by-election. It is in my uncle’s gift apparently, and the voting will be a mere formality. He would like me home to oversee the family affairs from time to time, and I may further my political career, which is of course my wish.’

‘I see,’ Sarah replied. ‘I fear I have little knowledge of such things, sir, though I am sure it is an interesting career for a gentleman and I wish you well of it. I am truly glad to see you again. We are giving a small dance at the end of this month. I hope you will come?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I shall look forward to it. I dare say we shall meet quite often, Miss Hunter—though I go down to the country for a few days next week. I shall return the week after and shall hope to see you then.’

‘Yes, that will be pleasant,’ Sarah said. ‘Good day, sir. We must not delay you.’

‘No, indeed. As you see, I have been shopping.’ He indicated the bandbox he was carrying. ‘A small gift for my sister. Rosemary is just seventeen and this will be her come-out into society.’

‘And you have bought her a new bonnet,’ Sarah said. ‘You are a kind brother, Captain Hernshaw.’

‘It is a surprise. I must hope that she will like it,’ he said and tipped his hat to her before walking away.

‘What a pleasant gentleman he is,’ Tilda remarked as they moved on, crossing the road towards the lending library, where for a small subscription they were able to choose from an interesting selection of books. ‘I can never forget how swiftly he dispatched that awful man who tried to kill you and then attacked Arabella. I am sure we have Captain Hernshaw to thank for her not being badly hurt or even killed.’ She gave a shudder as a shiver of ice ran down her spine.

‘Yes, he showed great skill and presence of mind,’ Sarah agreed. ‘I have always thought him very pleasant.’ She had not told Tilda that she thought that Captain Hernshaw had been on the verge of proposing to her in Rome, for she was a modest girl and did not like to appear to brag of such things.

‘Well, I dare say there are quite a few pleasant gentlemen in town,’ Tilda said and smiled for she had noticed that someone was staring at them from a passing carriage. She touched Sarah’s arm after it had gone past them. ‘That was the Duke of Pentyre, my dear. I think he was looking at you just now. He seemed quite taken with what he saw.’

‘No, was he?’ Sarah laughed softly. ‘I am sure you are mistaken, Tilda dear. I have never met the duke and I am sure there are lots of pretty girls in London just now. I do not imagine that he finds me particularly special.’

‘Oh, I do not know,’ Tilda said. She thought that her companion was very much out of the ordinary. She had more of an air about her than most of the naïve young ladies brought to town by their hopeful mamas—and was perhaps just the type of woman to catch the eye of some of the more seasoned campaigners. Gentlemen who had been on the town for several years, but had escaped the matrimonial net, were perhaps now looking for a suitable wife with whom to set up their nursery. She did not know much of the duke—his was an Irish title—but she understood that he also had large estates in England, and that he was thought to be very wealthy. ‘I believe that a lot of gentlemen will find you rather special, my dear.’

‘That is because you are prejudiced in my favour, dearest Tilda,’ Sarah said and squeezed her arm. ‘Ah, here we are. I wonder if there are any new books today. I think I should like to read something of Lord Byron’s if they have it…’

Sarah glanced at herself in the full-length cheval mirror in her bedroom, turning this way and that to admire her gown. It was a simple muslin, but draped with spangled gauze so that it sparkled in the candlelight. Her hair had been swept up on top of her head, though spirals of fair hair curled down her neck and clustered about her face. It had been dressed with white silk flowers and pearls and she had a simple strand of pearls linked with gold around her wrist. Her long gloves were white with a touch of pink embroidery at the edges.

‘You look very well, my dear,’ Mrs Hunter said, entering behind her. ‘Yes, I like that ensemble. I was not sure when Madame Deloir suggested it. I thought it might look rather too sophisticated, but she was right. It does suit you, makes you look a little out of the ordinary.’

‘Thank you, Mama,’ Sarah said. ‘Did you come to fetch me? I am ready now.’ She picked up a spray of pink and white roses, which had been ordered for her by her brother, who had come up to town that very day. ‘It was thoughtful of Charles to send these for me.’

‘I dare say you will receive several floral tributes after this evening,’ her mother said with a look of satisfaction. ‘Hester was telling me that we have all been invited to a ball to be given by the Duke of Pentyre and hosted by Lady Jersey next week. She had not expected to be asked, but news of your arrival must have begun to circulate, dearest.’

It was their first important evening engagement. Until now they had dined with a few of Lady Tate’s friends and attended one small card party and a musical affair. This was Sarah’s first experience of an English ball in a private house, and she was both excited and nervous.

‘Everyone has been kind, Mama,’ Sarah said now. ‘It was good of Lady Moore to invite us this evening, was it not?’

‘Lady Moore and I knew one another years ago,’ Mrs Hunter replied. ‘However, the invitation from the Duke of Pentyre was unexpected at this early stage, Sarah. We must feel flattered for I would imagine that only the very best of society will be there.’

‘Oh…’ Sarah turned aside so that her mother should not see that her cheeks were warm. ‘Well, I am sure it is most kind of the duke and Lady Jersey.’

‘Yes, indeed it is,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘Well, let us go down, my dear. We do not wish to keep the others waiting.’

Sarah walked obediently in her mother’s wake. Lady Tate and Tilda were already in the hall being helped on with their evening cloaks by the housekeeper. Tilda smiled as she watched Sarah come down the stairs to join them.

‘You look quite beautiful,’ she said. ‘That gown is a triumph, Sarah dear.’

‘Thank you,’ Sarah replied. ‘It is rather lovely, isn’t it?’

‘I am sure any gown would look lovely on you, Sarah,’ Lady Tate told her with a look of approval. ‘Are we all ready? I know that Coachman is ready for us…’

She led the way outside to where her town carriage was waiting to convey them to the house of Lady Moore, which was a few streets away. Sarah knew that they could have walked there in the time it took to make the carriage and horses ready, but it was impossible—their dainty evening shoes would gather the filth of the pavements and it would not be wise for four ladies to be abroad in London at night without an escort. In their own carriage, with their grooms and coachman, they were perfectly safe. They were unlikely to be accosted by the bands of wild young men who sometimes roamed the streets looking for victims to persecute, and highwaymen usually haunted only the lonely country roads.

Sarah listened to the chatter of her companions. She had little to say, for she was feeling apprehensive. Would she be left standing at the side of the room for more than one dance? She had few acquaintance in London, though she had met some ladies, friends of her mother’s and Lady Tate’s, but only a sprinkling of gentlemen as yet—and most of them were either married or quite elderly.

The house was lit up outside and link boys waited with their lanterns to show the way for the ladies as they stepped down from the carriage. A red carpet had been laid down for them so that they did not soil their slippers. Inside the house, maids took their wraps from them and they were directed to the main stairs, leading up to the first floor. Sarah could hear music playing as they reached the top and followed other guests to what was a large drawing room, which had been turned into a ballroom for the evening. Double doors had been folded back to give access from a second parlour, where the guests were mingling and drinking champagne.

That evening was only a small affair, with no more than fifty guests invited, not one of the huge crushes that would take place later in the season. Lady Moore had, as she made clear in her invitation, asked her close friends to a little dance for her niece Julia. She smiled as Sarah was brought forward to be introduced.

‘Ah, Miss Hunter—Sarah, my dear. I want you to meet Julia. She is a little younger than you, perhaps, but I hope you may become friends.’ She looked approvingly at her niece. ‘This is Miss Sarah Hunter, Julia. Why do you not go with her now, my love? Most of our guests are here and I shall greet the latecomers alone. There is no need for you to miss the dancing, for it has already begun.’

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Julia said and nodded to Sarah. ‘If you would like to come with me, Miss Hunter. I must confess that I am glad to have your company. Aunt Mary tells me that it is your first dance in London and it is mine too. We may give each other courage perhaps?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah replied and smiled at her. She was a pretty girl with dark hair and not as tall as Sarah, but she seemed friendly and willing to be entertained. ‘I should like that, Julia. I do not know many people in town yet.’

‘Nor I,’ Julia said. ‘My aunt is very pleased with herself for she has captured one or two notable persons. The duke has not yet arrived, but he has said that he will come.’

‘Oh…’ Sarah was at a loss. ‘I am sorry—I do not know who you mean.’

‘My aunt’s cousin—the Duke of Pentyre,’ Julia said. ‘He is a rather distant cousin really, several times removed, but she does not mention that in company. She sent him an invitation, but did not think he would attend—he often refuses more prestigious affairs than this, you know.’

‘He sounds rather proud.’

‘Yes, perhaps. I have only met him once and he just stared through me. I was, of course, only a child then, but I did not truly like him. Aunt Mary is always talking of him, but I do not think I should like to marry him.’

‘Why is that?’ Sarah asked, a little surprised at the confidence.

‘Oh…no reason, just that he frightens me,’ Julia said and gave a nervous giggle. ‘But I am talking too much. It is because I am anxious, I suppose.’

‘Not at all.’

Sarah shook her head and gave her new friend an encouraging smile. They had entered the ballroom now and, glancing round, she saw that ten couples were dancing, while a sprinkling of gentlemen stood talking.

They had been noticed! Sarah took a deep breath as three gentlemen came towards them, inclining their heads respectfully to Julia.

‘Miss Moore, may I beg a dance with you?’ one of them said and then looked at Sarah, his eyebrows raised. ‘I do not believe I have had the honour?’

‘Lord Henry Arnold,’ Julia said. ‘May I present Miss Sarah Hunter…Sir Matthew, Lord Bingham…’

The first introductions over, Sarah was asked to dance by all three gentlemen, beginning with Lord Bingham. She danced next with Lord Arnold and continued with Sir Matthew. Returning to her mama after the third dance, she was besieged by eager gentlemen. Her mama introduced those she was acquainted with and Lady Tate made her known to some others. It was not long before her card was filled and her fears of being a wallflower long forgotten.

She and Julia had stood together between dances, getting to know each other. It was therefore almost two hours later that Sarah returned from dancing with Lord Bingham for the second time to discover a tall and distinguished gentleman standing with her mama and Lady Tate.

‘Ah, Sarah my dear,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘The duke was delayed earlier and has but now arrived. He asked if he might dance with you and I was obliged to tell him that your card was filled. However, I said that I was sure you would allow him to take you into supper, my dear.’

Sarah dipped a curtsy. The gentleman was perhaps in his early forties, still attractive, if not wildly handsome, and, as he smiled at her, she thought that he had a pleasant manner.

‘I shall be obliged, your Grace,’ she replied. ‘I have been asked to take supper by several gentlemen and found it difficult to choose without offence—but I believe you may claim to have precedence.’

‘By virtue of my rank?’ he asked, one mobile eyebrow lifting in wry amusement. ‘I would prefer that I was your personal choice, Miss Hunter—but shall accept that I must earn your good opinion.’

‘Oh, no, sir,’ Sarah said and laughed softly. ‘I am sure that it ought not to be a case of earning my good opinion, for we do not know one another and I can have formed no opinion as yet.’

‘Beautiful and sensible,’ the duke said approvingly. ‘I believe you are to attend my own small affair, Miss Hunter. I must ask that you will save at least one dance for me.’

‘Oh, I think I may spare two—one to make up for the disappointment of this evening, if you wish it, sir?’

‘Thank you.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘It will do very well, Miss Hunter. I shall claim you for supper.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. There was no time to say more, for her next partner had arrived and she could only smile vaguely at the duke before she was led away.

‘You have a charming daughter,’ the duke said, glancing at Mrs Hunter. ‘I shall hope that we may meet often in the future.’

‘There, Selina,’ Lady Tate whispered as he walked away. ‘I think Sarah has made a conquest. What a fine thing it would be for her if he were to make her an offer.’

‘I had thought…the Conte di Ceasares, you know,’ Mrs Hunter said, her eyes on the retreating back of the duke. ‘But I suppose he is not such a catch as the Duke of Pentyre.’

‘Surely it is for Sarah to marry a man she truly cares for and respects,’ Tilda said in hushed tones. ‘Are you certain that the duke would be a wise choice for her, Mrs Hunter?’

‘Whatever can you mean?’ Mrs Hunter said, a sharp note in her voice. ‘He is everything a girl like Sarah could wish for, I am sure.’

‘But what do you know of him—except that he is a duke and wealthy?’

‘He is received and respected universally,’ Lady Tate said. ‘There is no doubt of it, Tilda. He would be an excellent match for Sarah.’

‘Perhaps.’ Tilda was unconvinced, but did not continue her protest. She might have more to say at an appropriate time. The duke must be at least twenty years older than Sarah, and she was sure in her own mind that the girl was in love with John Elworthy. She for one would not like to see Sarah forced into marriage just because the man was rich and well born.

Sarah had not given the possibility a thought. She was enjoying herself far more than she had thought she would, meeting lots of new friends and receiving many compliments on her gown, her appearance and her manners. In fact, it could be said that the only other girl in the room to receive as much attention was Julia, whose dance it was.

They had by now become firm friends and had promised to meet to go walking or shopping together as often as it could be managed, though with the Season beginning to get truly under way both had invitations for all manner of affairs. Picnics, dinners, musical evenings, card parties and dancing were just a few of the ingenious ideas the influential hostesses had come up with—to say nothing of the outdoor events, carriage drives and outings to the race meetings that the gentlemen enjoyed so much.

At the end of that dance, it was time for supper and as she left the floor she was approached by several eager gentlemen. However, they parted as a deep voice claimed her, allowing the duke through to offer her his arm.

‘Miss Hunter. I believe we are promised for supper?’

‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

Sarah laid her hand on his arm, allowing him to lead her through to the supper room, where she discovered that a table awaited them. It was already laden with several platters of the choicest delicacies and two servants hovered, waiting to serve them. Sarah knew that most of the ladies and gentlemen had gone to the buffet to serve themselves, but she was being treated as though she were someone special. It was because she was partnered by the duke, of course.

‘Is everything to your liking?’ he asked. ‘Please say if there is something you would prefer. I am certain it can be brought.’

‘I think I should be hard to please if I could not be pleased with this, sir,’ Sarah said and looked at the servant hovering. ‘I should like a little salmon and some green peas, if you please.’

‘Will you have some wine? Or would you prefer champagne?’

Sarah smiled at the duke. ‘I think champagne, if it is no trouble.’

‘Of course,’ he said and nodded to the other waiter, who went off at once to procure it for her. ‘I understand you have been travelling in Italy until recently, Miss Hunter?’

‘We returned home a few weeks ago,’ Sarah said. ‘We stayed there for more than two years.’

‘You like living abroad?’

‘I made many friends,’ Sarah said. ‘But I am quite happy to be home again.’

‘I understand that you went away for your health?’

Sarah felt her cheeks become slightly warm. ‘I was very ill at one time, sir. Mama thought it best to take me away.’ She touched the wing of white at her right temple self-consciously. It was a constant reminder of a time that she had tried hard to forget.

‘I trust you are better now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I am quite well.’

‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘I think you will be a success this season, Miss Hunter. I may even say that you will be the latest rage. You have something about you that is uncommon.’

‘You are very kind to say so, sir.’

‘I never say what I do not mean.’

Sarah looked into his eyes and felt a tingle at the base of her neck. He seemed a very pleasant, charming man, but there was something about him that made her uneasy.

‘Then I shall thank you for the compliment, sir.’

The duke continued to make small talk throughout supper. However, as the guests began to make their way back to the ballroom, he took his leave of Sarah and Mrs Hunter, who had come to join them.

‘I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, ma’am—and yours, Miss Hunter. I shall hope that we meet again soon.’

‘We have just been given vouchers for Almack’s next week,’ Mrs Hunter said, looking rather like the cat that has stolen the cream. ‘I believe you attend sometimes, sir?’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said and inclined his head. ‘But I dare say we shall meet everywhere, Mrs Hunter.’

She watched as he walked away from them, her eyes glowing as she looked back at Sarah. ‘That means we shall be invited everywhere. Mark my words, Sarah, the invitations will pour in now.’

Mrs Hunter was proved right; if they had received a nice flow of invitations before, they were inundated with them now. When there was more than one affair on a certain night, it was only possible to attend them all by leaving one event after an hour or so to move on to the next. It became a mad social whirl and Sarah’s feet seemed to hardly touch the floor as she went from one large, prestigious affair to another. If it was not a private ball or soirée, it was a card party, masked rout or a visit to Vauxhall with a party of friends. Sarah found it exciting but also tiring, and sometimes wished for more leisure to spend with her true friends.

Mrs Hunter, however, had not stopped wearing a smile since they had been invited to a dinner and cards at Lady Mountbank’s house, for she was one of the leading hostesses of the Season, and a lady known to ignore those who did not come out of the top drawer. While the Hunters were a good county family and well respected, they were not titled and had not expected to be invited into the homes of the most influential hostesses. Mrs Hunter had hoped that the invitations to the large balls might come their way, but now they were being asked to the more intimate affairs that she had not dreamed of. It was, of course, the Duke of Pentyre’s influence, something she never failed to impress on her daughter.

‘He is taken with you, Sarah,’ she told her daughter on the morning of his own ball. ‘I dare say he is not yet ready to speak, but if you are sensible he will do so by the end of the Season.’

‘You cannot be sure of that,’ Sarah said, avoiding her mother’s gaze. She was already aware that the duke had shown her considerable favour and that because of it several rather haughty hostesses had gone out of their way to be more than kind to her. She was, as he had predicted, becoming all the rage, and could not enter a drawing room without being immediately surrounded by both ladies and gentlemen. ‘We should not take his intentions for granted, Mama. After all, he might have married before this had he wished.’

‘Gentlemen often prefer to wait to take a wife,’ her mother told her. ‘I think he has it in mind to set up his family, Sarah. No doubt he feels it is time to make sure of his heir.’

Sarah did not argue further. She had hoped that this would not happen, that she would be given time to discover if there was a gentleman she particularly liked among her new acquaintances. However, it seemed that Mrs Hunter had recovered from her disappointment that Sarah had not taken the Conte and was now set on her becoming a duchess.