Читать книгу Silk - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 15
ОглавлениеSpring 1930
Amber was so happy. She felt as though her happiness was bursting out of her in the same unstoppable tide that had all the signs of spring appearing in Hyde Park. She was enjoying herself so much. Her happiness fizzed and bubbled inside her, and all the more so on days like today when she was with Lord Robert.
So far, as ‘the professor’, Lord Robert had taken her to the Vogue offices, where she had glimpsed Mrs Alison Settle, Vogue’s Editor, and been introduced to Madge Garland, the Fashion Editor, who had asked them rather pointedly to ‘remind Cecil, when you see him, that I am still awaiting the sketches he promised me’.
They had gone to the British Museum, where Cecil had given instructions that they were to look at all things Egyptian. But best of all, so far as Amber was concerned, had been their visit to the Royal Society of Arts behind the Strand, where she had gazed in wonder at the architecture and listened to a lecture on its provenance. Lord Robert had promised her that he would take her to West Wycombe, the village recently bought by the society in order that it could be preserved for future generations.
He had set her ‘homework’, which consisted of instructions such as ‘design a south-facing room setting for a blonde socialite who wears only Wedgwood blue’, or ‘Lord R. wishes to have new curtains for his drawing room – the theme is Egyptian Napoleonic – show three different styles.’
Sometimes his instructions were accompanied by little sketches similar to the ones he sketched for Vogue; other times they were just rough notes, but Amber adored receiving them almost as much as she adored being with Lord Robert – especially when they were on their own, without Saville, as they were today.
Amber looked adoringly at Lord Robert, dressed as usual in his academic ‘disguise’.
The days were flying by now, what with the pleasure of her outings with Lord Robert to look forward to, the Comtesse du Brissac’s French conversation, the Constance Spry flower-arranging classes she and Louise were now attending, and of course the deportment classes, which no longer held any fears for Amber now she had mastered the curtsy.
Add to that the social events she was also now attending and there were hardly enough hours in the day, as she had just complained to Lord Robert.
‘Lady Rutland is treating you better now, is she?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Amber confirmed. There was no point in spoiling the day by confessing to him how uncomfortable and out of place she felt at these social events and how conscious she was of the chilly looks she received from the mothers of other débutantes, the stiff silences and awkward pauses, when those débutantes refused to talk to her. Louise didn’t help, of course. She had made it plain that she despised Amber, and of course her close friends had followed suit.
In some ways Amber didn’t blame them. She was, after all, an outsider amongst them. She suspected she would have felt alien even without Louise’s unpleasantness.
‘I had a letter from my cousin Greg this morning. He’s going to Hong Kong. My grandmother thinks it will be good for him, he says,’ she told Lord Robert, deliberately changing the subject. ‘It was a shock because he had been going to be a Member of Parliament. He writes that he thinks that Hong Kong will be much more fun than becoming an MP.’
Since Greg himself had written so enthusiastically about the change of plan, Amber could only be pleased for him. But she’d miss him so much, knowing he was halfway across the world, and somewhere unknown to her, where, unlike at Macclesfield, she would be unable to picture him mentally.
‘I dare say he is quite right,’ Robert agreed. She was so innocent. Frighteningly so at times, he acknowledged. Being with Amber was like drinking a glass of clear pure water: a shock at first to the system when one was accustomed to far more intoxicating substances, but somehow it left a yearning within one to return to its simplicity and goodness.
‘I’m pleased for Greg, but disappointed for myself as I was hoping he would be at the dance Lady Rutland is to give after the presentation,’ Amber admitted. ‘At least then I would have known that I’d have someone to dance with.’
‘You will most definitely have someone to dance with.’
Amber looked at him. ‘You mean you will be there?’ Her eyes sparkled.
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Robert told her, realising as he said the words that they were true.
They were in Selfridges, and soon it would be time to leave since Amber had a fitting for her presentation dress. As always, though, she wanted to draw out the precious minutes she spent with Lord Robert and so she begged him, ‘Tell me again about the party when they had a treasure hunt and the clues had everyone running into Selfridges and jumping over the counters.’
Robert shook his head and laughed. ‘Those were foolish times – I should never have told you about them.’
‘I’m glad you did. They must have been such fun.’
‘Come now, it’s time you were back in Cadogan Place,’ Lord Robert told her firmly.
‘Are you ready yet?’ Louise asked Amber aggressively, ‘only I’m not waiting for you if you aren’t, and Mummy said to tell you that you’re to come with us to a tea party later.’
Amber didn’t mind so much about going for her gown fitting, but she would much rather not have been going to the tea party.
The gowns were being made by Reville in Hanover Square, the same court dressmaker who had not only made Lady Rutland’s own gown a generation before, but who had also been one of Queen Mary’s favourite dressmakers. Although Amber’s grandmother had been content to let Lady Rutland choose the dressmaker, she had insisted on selecting the fabric for Amber’s gown herself. It was de rigueur that débutantes wore only white or the palest of pastel-coloured gowns. For Amber’s gown her grandmother had chosen a silk for the underdress that was neither white nor cream but somewhere in between, over which was to go lace sewn with tiny pearls so that it looked as though the entire skirt of the overdress was made from mother-of-pearl. To complement the fabric Blanche had specified that the dress itself was to be made in the simplest of styles, little more than a narrow full-length shift at the front, but at the back from the base of Amber’s spine the overskirt was split to reveal a fan of plain satin pleats that formed a small train.
Louise had laughed mockingly when they had gone for their first fittings, twirling around in her own far more full-skirted and fussy gown, with its daringly peach underskirts showing through the heavy lace overdress, but now as they both watched the undeniable elegance of Amber’s gown emerging from the seamstress’s clever fingers, Louise’s mockery had given way to scowls.
Not that their presentation gowns were the only new clothes the girls had. Amber’s grandmother’s letters were full of detailed instructions about which shops Amber was to visit in order to be fitted for the outfits Blanche had already discussed by telephone with the shop manageresses. Invariably Louise too had a new outfit paid for by Blanche, but Louise’s choice was her own, and Amber was beginning to recognise that whilst her grandmother had ‘good taste’, Louise clearly did not.
Now as she brushed her hair, and thanked her maid for helping her, Amber acknowledged that she didn’t much care whether Louise waited for her or not.
She had had such a wonderful time this morning with Lord Robert. She hugged her pleasure to herself, wrapping it around her. What did Louise’s unkindness matter when she had such a wonderful friend in Lord Robert?
The fitting didn’t take very long, although Louise complained that her dress had been trimmed with the wrong lace. On their way back Amber insisted on calling in at Hatchards to order a copy of Evelyn Waugh’s new book.
It was only after she had completed giving her order that she realised that Louise was now in conversation with a man who must have come into the shop after them. Although she didn’t know why, something about the way Louise was behaving made Amber feel uneasy and uncomfortable. When Louise didn’t make any attempt to introduce Amber to her companion she felt relieved.
Louise was plainly enjoying the encounter, though, and in the end Amber left the shop without her and was several yards down the street when Louise finally caught up with her, out of breath but looking like the cat who’d got the cream.
The tea party was being given by Lady Wyesnaith at her Carlton Terrace home. Louise had chosen to wear a very close-fitting satin sleeveless dress in bright blue – almost the same shade as her eyes – with a deep V neckline, whilst Lady Rutland was wearing her customary rusty black beneath her furs.
Amber, without anyone to guide her, had asked her maid uncertainly, ‘What should I wear, do you think?’ and she had guessed from the pleased look Louise had given the softly draped, very simple pale amber frock, with its toning silk velvet jacket embroidered with amber bugle beads Amber had chosen, that Louise considered her own outfit to be far superior.
Since Lady Wyesnaith was presenting her own daughter at one of the court presentations, the tea party was one of those events, given by the sponsors of débutantes, ostensibly for the girls to get to know one another and the mothers to check diaries to ensure that no important débutante balls clashed, but in reality for the mothers to check out the competition their daughters might face amongst the other girls and to tailor their guest lists accordingly.
Amber, who had listened diligently whilst the Comtesse du Brissac instructed them on the importance of small talk and how one should engage in it, did her best when Lady Rutland abandoned her at a tea table with one spare seat without introducing her, but Amber knew from the silence that her intrusion was exactly that, which made the hand she felt on her arm and the familiar voice of her best friend from school, exclaiming happily, ‘Amber, I can’t believe it’s you. How wonderful!’ all the more welcome.
They had agreed, at Amber’s suggestion, during their final term together at school that they would not write to one another. Amber had believed then that their paths lay in very different directions and, knowing how conservative Beth was, she hadn’t wanted to embarrass her schoolfriend by clinging to their friendship when there was such a wide social divide between them. Now, of course, things were different – at least for the present, and whilst Amber was mixing in the same social circles as her schoolfriend.
Within seconds Amber was being spirited away to be introduced to Beth’s mother, who greeted her with such genuine kindness that Amber felt close to tears.
The Countess of Levington was an older and worldlier version of her daughter. They shared the same features, and good clear English skin, although Beth’s hair was fairer than her mother’s. Looking at Beth’s mother, Amber could see quite plainly what Beth herself would be in years to come. It was plain that the countess was a loving parent.
A brisk nod of her head confirmed that yes, the countess did indeed remember Beth talking about Amber, her friend from school.
‘Your father was, I believe, Russian?’ she questioned Beth, with practised ease.
‘What are you doing here?’ was Beth’s first question once they were on their own. ‘I thought you wanted to go to art school!’
‘I did. But my grandmother wouldn’t let me. She’s paid Louise’s mother to bring me out.’
There, she had said it, and she was holding her head high, even if inside she was dreading what Beth might think.
To her relief Beth’s only comment was a sympathetic, ‘It must be horrid for you, having to live with Louise.’
Amber gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘It is.’
Beth gave her arm a small squeeze. ‘Never mind. I’ll ask Mummy to make sure that we get invited to the same things. Finishing school in Paris was awful, worse than school, and now I still have to go to the Vacani School to learn to curtsy, and you know how clumsy I am.’
‘We’ve done that,’ said Amber. ‘I was hopeless at first.’
‘Oh, were you? That’s much better than getting it right first go.’
When Amber looked unconvinced, Beth told her, ‘Mummy says that it’s always the girls who get the curtsy right from their first class who go and do something silly when they’re presented. Oh, watch out, here comes Louise,’ she warned.
‘What are you two talking about?’ Louise demanded suspiciously.
‘I was just telling Amber how lovely it is to see her here.’
‘She’s only here because my mother has taken pity on her,’ Louise told Beth sharply.
Amber and Beth exchanged knowing looks.
The three of them, although they themselves did not know it, made an attractive picture standing together, Beth with her soft light brown hair and her sweet expression; Louise, the tallest of the three of them, the most ‘knowing’, her short bobbed hair as sleek and dark as a raven’s wing, and her blue eyes fringed with long dark lashes. But it was Amber, with her strawberry-blonde hair, her dark gold eyes and her perfect bone structure, who lifted the visual appeal of the trio above mere prettiness to true beauty.
‘You’ll be having a coming-out ball, I expect?’ Louise asked Beth.
‘Yes,’ Beth told her, ‘Mummy’s already worrying about finding enough young men to invite, especially if there are other balls on the same night. It would be awful if there aren’t enough men for us to dance with.’
‘Debs’ delights, you mean?’ Louise looked scornful. ‘Who wants to dance with them? Not me. I want to dance with a real man, someone exciting and … dangerous.’
‘From the warnings the comtesse has been giving us about not getting into cabs on our own with debs’ delights it sounds as though they are dangerous.’ Amber pointed out.
‘What? Because they might try to steal a kiss?’ Louise tossed her head. ‘Well, personally I think I’d rather like to know what it’s like to be kissed, wouldn’t you?’
Whilst Beth looked shocked Amber replied honestly, ‘It would depend on who was doing the kissing.’
‘Well, yes, of course. He’d have to be handsome, and rich, although I suppose in your case, Amber, all that would matter was him having a title.’
‘She’s such a cat,’ Beth said angrily after Louise had gone. ‘She hasn’t changed at all.’
Amber said nothing. After all, what could she say when Louise’s comment had been the truth, at least as far as her grandmother was concerned?
‘I’m so pleased we shall be coming out together,’ Beth told Amber warmly. ‘I’ve been dreading it, but now it’s going to be fun. Oh, look, Mummy wants us.’
Amber hung back.
‘What is it?’ Beth demanded.
Uncomfortably Amber explained how she’d been excluded and ignored, adding that she didn’t want to put Beth in an embarrassing position by clinging on to her.
‘I shouldn’t be surprised if it’s Lady Rutland people want to avoid and not you,’ Beth told her firmly. ‘She isn’t very well liked, you know.’
And not as well connected or socially powerful as Beth’s mother, as Amber soon discovered, after Beth had insisted on dragging her over to her mother.
People who had ignored her when Lady Rutland had introduced her were now being astonishingly pleasant. Girls who had previously turned their backs on her were now smiling at her and making room for both Beth and Amber to join them round tables set up for tea.
Engrossed in conversation, Amber only noticed the dark look Louise was giving her when she happened to glance up and see her, standing by the door with one of her own coterie of friends.
Seeing her look at Louise, the girl sitting next to Amber told her conspiratorially, ‘That’s Louise Montford. She’s fearfully fast, you know. My brother met her at a house party over Christmas.’
‘What do you mean?’ Amber asked her curiously.
The other girl gave her a coy look and then told her breathlessly, ‘Well, when they were playing hide-and-seek one evening, no one could find Louise for ages, and then when they did find her in one of the boots cupboards she swore that she’d been on her own but someone else said that they’d seen one of the boys sneaking away from the cupboard just before they found Louise. And then another night she went and joined the boys in the billiard room after supper, and she was the only girl there. One of the boys, Edward Fearton, told my brother that she’d let him kiss her and that she’d sat on his lap and let him put his hand on her knee. If she isn’t careful she’s going to get herself in an awful lot of trouble.’
Amber digested these confidences in silence. It was true that the kind of behaviour the other girl had just described was very fast and not acceptable at all for a young unmarried girl. There was a certain wildness about Louise at times, she admitted, as though the other girl enjoyed taking risks and breaking the rules. But the reality was that Louise could not afford to flout convention, not if she was to make the kind of marriage her mother needed her to make to repair their family finances, to someone of equal social standing to her own, and with money: the kind of man that every mother wanted for her daughter and the kind of man too who could take his pick of socially acceptable well-brought-up young women when looking for a wife. The kind of man who was not likely to choose a young woman with the wrong kind of reputation.
‘I suppose you think you’re something special now just because Beth has taken up with you,’ Louise challenged Amber later when they had returned to Cadogan Place. ‘Well, you aren’t. You’re still just a Macclesfield mill girl. What was Julia Smethington-Blythe saying to you about me? And don’t say she wasn’t because I know she was. I could tell from the way she was whispering to you.’
‘She mentioned that her brother had met you at a house party, that’s all,’ Amber answered diplomatically.
‘Oh, him. He was a complete drip. He couldn’t even dance, and his teeth stick out.’
Louise scowled. She hated Amber almost as much as she hated the life that being poor imposed on her. Louise craved luxury and excitement; she wanted to sweep into the most fashionable places wearing the most expensive clothes and jewels, on the arm of a handsome man and looking so wonderful that people turned to stare at her.
Louise had never known a time when money hadn’t dominated her life. Her mother rarely spoke of anything other than their lack of it. Louise had only been able to attend the exclusive girls’ school she had because a relative had paid the fees.
Mummy was always irritatingly vague about the exact relationship between her and ‘cousin Hugh’. So much so, in fact, that Louise was beginning to wonder if they were lovers.
Louise was extremely interested in people’s sexual relationships, and all the more so if they were illicit. In fact, Louise found the whole idea of sex very exciting. It must be rather fun to be the mistress of a very rich man; a man who was prepared to indulge one’s every whim and shower one with clothes and jewels. First, of course, she would have to be married: a rich husband and then a rich lover. She hated being only seventeen and treated like a child. She couldn’t wait to be grown up and free to do whatever she wanted.
The invitations were mounting up on the mantelpiece in the drawing room of the house in Cadogan Place, and all the more so, Amber suspected, since Beth’s mother had kind-heartedly taken Amber under her wing.
Some mothers might be having to cut corners, but of course, thanks to Amber’s grandmother, there was no question of economising for the ball Lady Rutland was giving for Louise and Amber, after their formal presentation.
Lord Cadogan had given permission for the private gardens to be used, and a marquee was to be erected there, whilst decorators had been set to work refurbishing the reception rooms.
Some families were hosting private dinners before their balls but Lady Rutland had eschewed this idea, much to Amber’s relief.
Along with everything else she had managed to organise during her week’s stay in London, Amber’s grandmother had chosen both the flowers for the ball and the supper menu – a copy of one chosen by the Duke of Westminster for a ball at Eaton Hall he had given for Royalty – even though she herself was not going to be present.
Amongst the invitations arriving at Cadogan Place was one from the Hon. Mrs Guinness to attend a ball at 10 Buckingham Street, which had caused Amber a pang of anxious guilt, and worry that Lady Rutland might wonder how Diana Guinness had come to be sending them an invitation, or even worse, that somehow or other it might come out that she had met Amber at the Ritz, until Lady Rutland had remarked that there was a family connection between her own late mother and Diana’s family, the Mitfords.
‘We have been invited as well,’ Beth had informed Amber, when Amber had told her about the invitation. ‘My mother’s family are connected to the Guinnesses, although Mummy is a bit concerned about me going.’ Beth had pulled a small face. ‘I don’t think Mummy approves of the fact that Diana is so very modern, but I think she is such fun. My mother’s godson is part of that set and he says that she gives the most wonderful parties.’ Beth giggled. ‘To be honest I don’t think that Mummy always approves of Teddy either, but of course she can’t say so, and since he has insisted on accompanying us she can hardly refuse. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘So am I,’ Amber had agreed fervently.
It was nearly a week since she’d last seen Lord Robert, and she missed him dreadfully, although he had warned her that he was having to go away for a few days.
She may have told Beth that she was looking forward to the Guinness party, but right now, as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror whilst Renton finished fastening the buttons of her kid gloves, prior to Amber leaving for the ball, Amber acknowledged ruefully that what she was actually feeling came closer to nervousness.
Amber’s Norman Hartnell gown was a soft eau-de-Nil. The bodice was trimmed with rows of tiny crystal drops that shone in the light, and was modestly high-necked, but the skirt was rather dashingly cut on the bias.
Over it Amber would be wearing a matching draped satin bolero jacket several shades darker than her dress, but lined in exactly the same eau-de-Nil satin.
Her hair had been dressed in soft curls, the pins securing it decorated with small individual crystals to complement those on the bodice of her dress.
Her matching satin purse was just the right size to hold a dance card, a handkerchief and a small bottle of scent. Lady Rutland did not approve of makeup, although Amber knew that Louise ignored her mother’s disapproval and wore lipstick.
‘Are you sure I look all right, Renton?’ Amber asked her maid anxiously. She had found the maid a little stern and formidable at first, but she had quickly come to value her judgement and her good taste, and had soon found that she was turning to Renton for the answers to her questions on matters of etiquette in high society with which she was unfamiliar, rather than Lady Rutland. Renton, Amber had learned, had grown up on the estate of the Earl of Rads-bury in Norfolk and had gone into service with the countess at fourteen, determinedly working her way up through the household hierarchy until a vacancy as a lady’s maid to one of the countess’s friends had brought her to London, and then to Cadogan Place when her previous mistress had died.
Renton had told Amber that she had been on the point of returning to Norfolk to share a cottage with her sister, who was now retired, when she had been interviewed by Amber’s grandmother.
‘I could see straight away that Mrs Pickford knew what was what,’ Renton had told Amber, surprising her with the approval she could hear in her voice, ‘and that she knew how to treat a person properly.’
Amber acknowledged that she was glad that her grandmother had chosen Renton to be her maid.
‘You look just as you should,’ Renton told her now, giving Amber one of her very rare smiles. Amber felt that, in her own way, Renton was every bit as formidable as her grandmother.
The road outside the Guinnesses’ house was filled with chauffeur-driven cars conveying guests to the party, but whilst Louise was anxious to get out of the car and impatient at the delay, Amber was content to gaze wide-eyed at people whom she recognised from the newspapers and the society magazines; people like Emerald Cunard, who was wearing what Amber knew immediately must be a Schiaparelli gown, white satin with a black satin cape. Eventually their car was close enough to the entrance to the house for them to get out, Lady Rutland’s gown of puce satin rustling stiffly as they climbed the front steps.
Once inside, a smiling maid offered to relieve them of their wraps.
Amber’s eyes widened when she saw how low-cut Louise’s rose-pink gown was, surely much lower than when they had had their fittings.
The elegant reception room on the first floor was filled with so many people that the sheer volume of their conversation made it impossible to hear the music from the quartet playing in the antechamber.
A waiter carrying a tray of glasses came towards them.
‘Cocktail, madam?’
Amber looked uncertainly at the bright green liquid, but Louise was already reaching for a glass whilst her mother, who was engaged in conversation with another chaperone, had her back to her. She had finished her drink and picked up a second by the time Lady Rutland joined them.
Amber was relieved to see Beth, but her relief turned to amazement and delight when she saw who was standing at the countess’s side.
Lord Robert!
Confusingly, though, the countess was asking Lady Rutland if she might introduce ‘her godson’ and Amber had no idea what to say when the familiar hand, white-gloved tonight, of course, took her own.
‘Amber, my dear, please allow me to introduce to you my godson, Lord Robert Devenish, the Earl of Montclare. Teddy, Miss Amber Vrontsky.’
Amber held her breath, praying that Lady Rutland would not recognise in Lord Robert Devenish the professor who had been attending Cadogan Place, whilst her own head spun dizzily with the shock of discovering that ‘her’ Lord Robert was also Beth’s ‘Teddy’.
Lord Robert was smiling at her. ‘Miss Vrontsky, I do hope I can look forward to the pleasure of dancing with you later?’
He had that mischievous look in his eyes that Amber now knew so well. Her heart was beating giddily fast.
Before she could answer him, though, the countess said firmly, ‘You may dance with Amber, Teddy, but you are not to introduce her to those rackety friends of yours.’
‘Cecil would be most hurt if he heard you describing him as merely rackety, Aunt Phoebe. He likes to think of himself as positively dissipated,’ replied Robert, laughing.
The countess gave him a reproving look. ‘Well, I dare say that your grandfather would agree with him.’
Immediately his expression changed, the amusement dying out of his eyes, to be replaced by a hard blankness that made his handsome features look as though they had been carved from stone. Amber was shocked. She had never seen him look so formidable and withdrawn.
‘Louise’s gown is fearfully low-cut, isn’t it?’ Beth whispered to Amber under cover of her mother’s conversation with ‘Teddy’. ‘I’m surprised her mother allowed it.’
‘It wasn’t like that when we went for our last fittings,’ Amber whispered back.
‘It makes her look very fast. No wonder George Ponsonby’s made a beeline for her.’
Amber looked over to where Louise was standing talking to a dark-haired man of medium height. As it had done before, something in Louise’s manner made Amber feel uncomfortable.
‘Just look at how close to him she’s standing.’ Beth looked scandalised. ‘Mummy was talking about George Ponsonby last week. She says that he’s a fortune-hunter and an adventurer, and not to be trusted. There was a terrible scandal a couple of years ago when this poor girl had told all her friends that they were going to be engaged, and then he just dropped her. Her family had to send her abroad. There was talk of … you know …’
‘What?’ Amber demanded, puzzled.
Beth leaned closer to her. ‘People were saying that she was going to have a baby and that was why she had to go abroad.’
They both looked at Louise, who was now dancing with George Ponsonby. He might be handsome, but he was one of those men who somehow looked too smooth and polished, his smile too ready, and his hair too brilliantined. He was holding Louise very tightly but, far from looking uncomfortable, she seemed to be revelling in his attention.
‘Mummy said earlier that Louise’s manner is far too forward and that it’s already causing comment,’ Beth added.
* * *
Louise was dancing with George Ponsonby again when Lord Robert guided Amber out onto the dance floor a little later.
‘Why does Beth’s mother call you Teddy?’ she asked him.
‘It was my mother’s nickname for me when I was a baby. She died when I was two, and since Aunt Phoebe was her best friend she still uses it.’
Amber gave him a sympathetic look. ‘It must have been horrid for you having to grow up without her.’
‘Yes, it was rather.’
His voice was clipped and Amber guessed he wanted her to change the subject.
‘I was so relieved that Lady Rutland didn’t recognise you.’
‘Lady Rutland is the kind of person who only sees what she wants to see.’
He was an excellent dancer. Amber felt quite light-headed with the ease with which he swung her round as they glided across the floor.
As he whirled her round, Lord Robert told her, ‘Cecil’s over there with Diana, and Ralph Seaforde. I shall be in fearful trouble with Aunt Phoebe, though, if I take you over to join them.’
Amber looked in the direction he was indicating. Ralph Seaforde was tall and willowy, with dark hair and slightly olive skin. He turned to look at them, and for some reason Amber felt herself recoil, which was silly because he wasn’t even looking at her. He was looking – staring, really – at Lord Robert …
The ball was over and they were on their way home. Amber was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open and her feet positively hurt from all the dancing she had done.
Although the ball had been very exciting, and she had danced with Lord Robert, somehow the evening had left her feeling confused and not as happy as she felt she ought to be, although she couldn’t explain to herself just why she felt the way she did, except that it had something to do with Lord Robert and the way he had seemed different somehow, distant almost at times, and not the kind teasing Lord Robert she knew and liked so much, she acknowledged. Not for the world did she want to admit that the evening – and Lord Robert – had left her feeling slightly forlorn and deflated.
Louise, on the other hand, wasn’t tired at all. She was positively fizzing with excitement and energy, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. George Ponsonby was exactly the kind of man she liked: wickedly handsome and dangerous, and with that look about him that said that he could introduce her to the most interesting and exciting things. Just thinking about him brought Louise a sharp thrill of excitement. She had had her fill of kissing inexperienced boys in broom cupboards, and watching the effect she had on them when she teased them with promises she had no intention of keeping. That was schoolgirl stuff, and she wasn’t a schoolgirl any more. She was a woman.
