‘You look exceptionally pretty this evening,’ Samantha said, looking at the young girl she had taken under her wing. Her gown of pale-peach silk was overlaid with a coat of silver gauze that allowed the soft glow of peach to show through. Her slippers of silver satin were sewn with tiny sparkling beads and her long gloves of white came up to her elbows. She carried a little silver purse and a delicate fan of ivory and silk, and around her throat she wore her mama’s pearls, which had been sewn into a bag inside her gown and thus avoided being stolen from her. ‘Yes, I think you will be much admired and I shall be envied for having such a lovely guest.’
‘Oh, Samantha,’ Rosemarie said. ‘I’m pretty, but you look beautiful—that dark green suits you so well with your lovely hair. I think half the young men in London are already in love with you. When you took me driving in your phaeton in the park they all waved to you and came up to us and we spent half our time stopping to talk to gentlemen.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Samantha said, her eyes dancing with amusement. ‘But did you not notice that they soon turned their attention to you? How many offers of a drive in the park were made you, I wonder?’
Rosemarie smiled and her cheeks coloured. ‘Well, yes, I know several of them asked me to ride in Rotten Row with them or to take me for a turn in the park, but they were only the young, silly ones—all the others saved their compliments for you.’
Samantha made no reply, for she knew that it was perfectly true. She did have rather a large court of admirers and several of them were in earnest. Had she wished to marry again, she might have done so at any time these past six months since she came out of mourning for her dearest Percy. She was not yet sure whether she would ever wish to marry again, though she might consider it if the right person were to ask her.
Samantha had a full and interesting life in London, for she had many, many friends who invited her to their dinners and card parties. She entertained in a modest way herself, for although she was comfortably off she could not afford to give a large ball, but it was enough for her modest way of life to entertain a few friends when she chose.
As she led the way downstairs to the carriage waiting to take them to Lady Sefton’s ball, Samantha considered whom she might marry if she gave various suitors some encouragement to make her an offer. There was Lord Gerald Seaton, a gentleman of perhaps forty summers, who was most attentive. He had never married, having been a military man and only recently come into his estate and given up his commission in the army. Samantha knew he was looking to set up his nursery and hoped for a brood of children as soon as possible. He had a large country house and estate, a London house, where he spent at least three months of the year, and a hunting box in the shires.
Her other most persistent suitors were Lieutenant George Carter—a man of perhaps thirty, dashing and charming, whose prospects of becoming Lord Halliday were somewhat distant, being a second son—and the Marquis of Barchester. The Marquis was said to be extremely wealthy, a widower, charming, good looking, no more than two and forty—and apparently very much in love with her. He had already asked her twice if she would marry him, and though she had excused herself, saying that she was not yet ready to marry, he seemed determined to continue his pursuit.
Samantha knew that some of her friends thought her a fool not to encourage the Marquis’s attentions, but there was something about him at times...something that made her shiver inside. She could not quite trust him, not quite like him, even though he was always charming towards her. Yet in her heart she knew that she could never seriously think of marrying him.
Besides these gentlemen there were more than a dozen others who regularly declared themselves in love with her. Samantha smiled and paid their claims little attention, bestowing a dance now and then or permission to fetch for her a glass of wine, but treating them all exactly the same. She was happy to give friendship, but nothing more—and she could not be certain that she would ever be ready to give her heart again.
‘Do you really think people will like me?’ Rosemarie asked in a nervous little voice as the carriage slowed down. They saw the carpet laid out for the ladies to walk on, the link boys lighting the pavements so that no one tripped or soiled their gown, and the doors of the great house open to admit a stream of guests. ‘Not just the gentlemen—the ladies, too?’
‘Of course they will,’ Samantha reassured her and pressed her hand. ‘You have perfect manners, my dear, and nothing to blush for—no one shall know from me the circumstances that brought you to town. You are just a welcome guest, the daughter of an old friend. No one needs to know the truth of your birth or your mother’s circumstances. When you choose to marry your husband will have to be told, of course, but if you choose wisely it will not matter.’
‘No, for Robert already knows the truth and does not care.’
‘Nor would any gentleman if he loved you—and I am certain more than one will fall in love with you, dearest.’
‘You are so kind,’ Rosemarie said, sounding a little brighter and less nervous.
Samantha was helped down from the carriage. She waited for Rosemarie and they advanced together towards the blaze of lights from the house, into the large hall and up a magnificent staircase to where their hostess for the evening awaited them.
‘Mrs Scatterby and Miss Ross,’ a footman announced and Lady Sefton held out her hand and smiled.
‘I am delighted that you could come this evening, Samantha—and to meet your friend, Miss Rosemarie Ross.’ Her bright eyes regarded Rosemarie thoughtfully and then she smiled, offering her hand. ‘How pretty you are, child. May I call you Rosemarie, my dear?’
‘Yes, ma’am, thank you,’ Rosemarie said with a delightful little blush. ‘It is so kind of you to have me here this evening.’
‘You are very welcome. Go along and enjoy yourself, my dear. We shall have a little talk later this evening, for I should like to know you better.’
‘Come along, Rosemarie. Let me introduce you to a few friends,’ Samantha said, and drew her forward into the crowded rooms. They had all been opened out for the evening, the furniture kept to a minimum in the reception rooms, apart from some chairs and small sofas set back against the wall. There were three reception rooms, each leading into the next and each thronged with laughing, chattering ladies and gentlemen. Footmen in a dark livery were circulating with trays of fine wines, including champagne, and most guests were drinking as they chattered and laughed.
Samantha was offered a glass immediately, but refused it and Rosemarie followed her lead. It was difficult enough to force a passage through the crowds as it was and a drink could only make it more difficult. Better to wait until they were settled. In the distance they could hear music playing, though it was not yet for dancing, merely as a background. The air was heavy with perfume and the rooms were all beginning to grow stuffy as the press of people made them over-warm.
Every few steps they took, Samantha paused to introduce her protégée to friends. She told them all the same story and Rosemarie was greeted warmly, though some ladies watched her progress and frowned, as if wondering where she had come from. However, her dress, bearing and manners were enough to proclaim her of gentle birth, if perhaps not one of the first families, and most were quite ready to accept her. Samantha Scatterby was well liked herself, though she came from a military family, her mother the daughter of a country gentleman. Therefore, it was accepted that her friend would probably be of the same level—quality, but not aristocracy. Quite acceptable if she had a fortune, and the doting mothers and aunts of presentable sons and nephews took note of everything she did and said. One did not know if the gel was an heiress, of course, but those pearls were excellent. A few enquiries as to the extent of her fortune would soon tell whether she was worth cultivating.
Because of the crush and the delays talking to friends, it took several minutes to reach the ballroom, by which time the orchestra had begun to play music for dancing and the first couples had taken the floor. The two ladies were immediately joined by eager young gentlemen asking for dances and Rosemarie produced her card. She blushed and smiled as dance after dance was claimed and then she was swept away into the midst of the current dances, leaving Samantha to stand alone and watch with a smile on her lips.
‘Surely you will dance with me, Samantha?’ Lord Gerald Seaton asked, coming up to her after seeing her smilingly refuse a press of young men, most of them officers in scarlet coats. ‘I had quite set my hopes on it.’
‘Forgive me, my dear sir,’ Samantha said. ‘I have come as a chaperon this evening, as you see. I do not think that it would be right for me to dance. I must be at hand if Miss Ross needs me.’
‘You are too young to sit all evening with the dowagers and matrons,’ Lord Seaton said, frowning a little. ‘Surely you do not think yourself one of them?’
‘Well, you know I am a widow and past my youth,’ Samantha said, but her eyes twinkled. ‘No, no, it is not for ever, my friend. Merely that this is Rosemarie’s first dance and I want to see her settled with friends of her own before I feel that I can leave her to her own devices. However, we may sit by that open window at that little table and watch the dancers together—and perhaps you will fetch me a cooling lemonade?’
‘Yes, certainly. I shall be delighted,’ he said, and smiled. ‘After all, it is easier to converse if one is sitting rather than dancing.’
Retiring to a little table in an alcove where a long window leading out to the terraces and the garden was slightly open, Samantha sat down and let her gaze travel round the long room. It was a magnificent sight, the heavy glass chandeliers glittering with the light from many candles and reflected in mirrors lining one wall. The effect was to make the room seem even larger and brighter and with the banks of white scented lilies under the dais where the orchestra played; it gave the evening a delightful sense of magic and enchantment.
She smiled a little as she recalled a night like this when she was a young bride, dancing with her husband at a ball given by his commanding officer...and then she’d seen a young officer enter the room with his friends. He had been laughing, his handsome face lit with some mischief. Samantha had seen the laughter drain from his eyes, seen them fix on her with some strange intensity...saw him ask his friend, and then the look of deep regret as he was told who she was...and knew she was beyond reach, married to his colonel.
‘Your lemonade,’ Lord Seaton said and took his seat beside her. He sipped his wine. ‘The champagne is very good—but then Lady Sefton never stints her guests and would not think of serving inferior wine.’
‘I know, but I was thirsty and lemonade is so refreshing,’ Samantha said. ‘Do you go down to Newmarket for the racing next week, Lord Seaton?’
‘No, I do not think so,’ he replied. ‘I shall attend Ascot as always, naturally, but I am not particularly a racing man, you know. I think I prefer the regattas at Henley and then I like country pursuits...hunting and fishing. I enjoy cards and entertaining my friends, but I’ve never been a huge lover of horse racing. I prefer to ride my horses over my land or see them grazing in my fields rather than lathered to a standstill at the end of a tortuous race.’
‘Oh, I do so agree,’ Samantha said and looked at him in approval. He was a kind, generous man, and she knew she could do much worse than to accept him, but she did not love him and she longed to know true love this time. ‘Percy loved horse racing and we had informal races when we were on campaign, but I often felt sorry for the poor horses—especially those that were lamed in the chase. Percy told me the beasts enjoyed it as much as the men, but I did not believe him. However, I think many gentlemen enjoy the pursuit.’
‘Yes, I am not a cruel man. Even in the hunting I prefer not to be in at the kill, but you will think me squeamish and it is not so. Merely that I rather enjoy seeing wild animals free to roam, though of course, my fellow landowners would say the fox is vermin and must be kept down. I dare say they are right.’
‘My father always complained if they took his chickens. He would certainly agree. But what a subject for a ball.’ Samantha laughed. ‘We should be talking of the latest fashions or discussing some wicked gossip...if we knew any?’ She looked at him enquiringly.
‘Well, I did hear something about the Prince Regent and what he said to Lady Mole down at Brighton.’
Samantha knew the story already, because it was common knowledge that the lady had committed a social blunder by butting in on the prince’s private conversations with another lady and that he had snubbed her for the rest of her visit—which she had been obliged to cut short. However, she allowed him to tell his tale as if it were new to her and laughed at all the right moments.
‘I do not think she will be invited to the Pavilion to stay again in a long time,’ Lord Seaton ended with a deep chuckle.
‘No, I believe you are right,’ Samantha said, wishing that he would go off and talk to another of his acquaintances, but knowing that he would stick with her until he was forced to move on. It looked as if she might be in for a boring evening.
‘You know, it always amazes me how much we have in common,’ her companion said. ‘I often think that we could be very happy together in the country, coming to town now and then to shop, visit the theatre and see friends.’
‘Do you? I confess that I am rather partial to living in town,’ Samantha said and saw his frown. ‘Oh, I see that Rosemarie is looking for me. I must go to her. Forgive me, sir. I shall send you an invitation to dinner very soon.’
Ignoring his disappointed look, she got up and went over to Rosemarie, who was looking a little warm.
‘I have danced three country dances and a quadrille,’ the girl said to her. ‘Lieutenant Poole has gone to secure me a cooling drink of lemonade before the next set starts.’ She looked at Samantha, her smooth brow wrinkling. ‘Is it all right if I waltz? Someone said that girls are not allowed to waltz before the hostess has approved them.’
‘That is at Almack’s,’ Samantha said. ‘Who wishes you to waltz?’
‘Lieutenant Poole,’ Rosemarie replied doubtfully.
‘Well, just to make sure no one raises their eyebrows I shall ask my friend Lady Sefton to introduce him to you at the start of the waltz. There, will that do?’
‘I wasn’t sure. I did not wish to do anything wrong or for people to think me fast.’
‘No, of course not, very proper of you,’ Samantha said, hiding her smile. For a girl who had run away from home intending to set up as a seamstress, this was quite a change. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, very much. I never realised that there were so many charming young men,’ Rosemarie said innocently. ‘I am having such fun.’
‘Good, that is what I intended, my love.’ Samantha wondered about the young man Rosemarie had declared she would marry one day—had someone she’d seen this evening eclipsed him?
Just then Lieutenant Poole arrived, carrying two glasses of lemonade, one of which he handed to Rosemarie and the other he offered to Samantha. She declined it pleasantly and he sipped it himself, waiting until the music started and he reminded Rosemarie that this was their second dance of the evening.
‘I must rely on you not to claim Rosemarie for more than three dances at the very most, Lieutenant,’ Samantha said with a little smile. ‘Perhaps you should save the waltz for Almack’s? I shall speak to Lady Sefton this evening and she has already promised us vouchers for next week—she will present you then.’
His smile dimmed a little, clearly disappointed at being denied his treat, but bowed his head in acceptance. Samantha moved away, stopping to speak to some more of her friends. Lieutenant Carter approached her with his charming smile in place, his blue eyes going over her with approval.
‘You are as beautiful as always, Samantha. I know you do not dance this evening. I have been told so I shall not plague you—but will you allow me to fetch you some champagne?’
‘Not just at the moment. You may take me into supper presently and secure me a glass then if you will.’
‘You do me honour, Samantha,’ he said, his eyes glowing with banked passion. He seized her hand, holding it with passion and reverence. ‘I wish you would give me the greatest honour of all...’
‘Please, do not,’ she replied with a soft laugh. ‘I do not wish to be cross with you tonight, my dear sir.’
‘Then I shall say no more—but you know I adore you and I am always at your service.’
‘You must not say such things to me.’
He looked annoyed, but spoke to her for a while longer, then left her to continue her parade of the room, promising to return to take her into supper.
Samantha was a little surprised to see that Barchester was not present that evening, since she’d believed he was coming. However, she had so many acquaintances that she was able to pass her evening quite pleasantly talking to one and then another.
* * *
During supper, the table Lieutenant Carter had secured was crowded with ladies and gentlemen who had decided to join them and they made a merry party. Rosemarie had come into supper with Lieutenant Poole and seemed to be quite at home in his company. She laughed and chattered with all the young people, but seemed to Samantha to have a preference for the young lieutenant.
It was not until they were on their way home in the carriage at the end of the evening that she discovered the reason.
‘Lieutenant Poole is a friend of Robert’s,’ she confided to Samantha. ‘He was surprised to see me in London, but of course, I could not tell him everything in case we were overheard. He is going to take me driving tomorrow so that we may talk.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Samantha was thoughtful. ‘I had wondered if you rather liked him?’
‘Yes, I do. Of course I like him, because he is Robert’s best friend and we met last year—but I am not romantically attached to him. How could I be? I enjoyed dancing with a lot of the young gentlemen and their compliments made me laugh—but I shall never love anyone but Robert Carstairs.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Samantha said, frowning in the darkness of the carriage interior. If the girl was determined to have her own way, she probably would—and that might cause problems for Brock in the future. He had taken up her cause, but if she were to run away with her favoured young officer it might reflect badly on him.
She wondered if he’d reached his destination and what he would find at Falmouth House.