On the evening of the Cavershams’ party, Aristide made a last-ditch attempt to persuade his sister to accompany him by saying flatly, ‘If this childish behaviour of yours really is nothing to do with Nicholas Wynstanton, you’d better prove it. My impression – and probably his, too – is that you haven’t got the nerve to spend more than two minutes in the same room as him. Well?’
Madeleine stared at him in mute exasperation. Then she snapped, ‘All right. All right! If it will stop everyone jumping to stupid conclusions, I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to make a habit of it.’
‘I gave up expecting you to be reasonable some time ago,’ he replied. ‘But you will move into the damned house. I want to employ an assistant and your current rooms will be the most convenient place for him to work.’
Her response was the one he had learned to expect. Impaling him on a fulminating stare, she swept from the room. She still hadn’t spoken a word when their carriage drew up in Mount Street.
At the same time that Aristide was berating his sister, Cassie Delahaye was doing the same thing to herself but without much success. The instant Mr Audley had given way on the previous afternoon, some perverse part of her had immediately wished he hadn’t. Equally annoying was her inability, despite having Susan lay out all of her other evening gowns for inspection, to resist the lure of the lilac and green shot-silk that had inspired him to send her violets. Luckily, the violets themselves were now past their best. If they hadn’t been, Cassie had the awful suspicion that she’d probably be pinning a couple of them to her bodice. And worst of all was the single, common thread running through all these things … which ought to frighten her silly but somehow didn’t.
In Mount Street, whilst waiting for their guests to arrive, Harry Caversham shook a reproving head at his wife and said, ‘You’re a conniving minx, Nell. I hope you’ve thought what you’re going to do if it turns into a disaster.’
‘It won’t be a disaster. It will be a perfectly pleasant evening with friends.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I didn’t think Aristide would persuade Madeleine to come so I let you talk me into keeping quiet about it. But now she is coming … and Nick has no idea. I realise he may be pleased and that, even if he’s not, he’ll behave. But I wouldn’t like to speak for Madeleine. She’s got more prickles than a hedgehog.’
‘Oh – stuff!’ said Nell airily. ‘You worry too much.’
An hour later, all but two of their guests were assembled and chatting happily over glasses of wine in the drawing room. Jack and Althea Ingram had arrived with the Marquis and Marchioness of Amberley; Philip and Isabel Vernon had brought Mr Audley; Lady Delahaye set Cassie and Harry’s cousin, Henrietta down in Mount Street en route for her own dinner engagement at Cavendish House; and Lord Nicholas, handsome in pearl grey silk, sauntered in around the time Nell was considering sending Harry off to fetch him – possibly at gunpoint.
Cassie, who had been avoiding any possibility of a tête à tête with Mr Audley, sidled over to Nell and said, ‘Well, Nicholas is here – but where are the gentleman from the gaming club and his sister?’
‘She wasn’t going to come – then she changed her mind around the time when any sane female would have been half-way through dressing. So they’ll be late.’
‘Does Nicholas know?’
‘Of course not. I want to see his face when she --’ Nell broke off, her eyes brightening as she heard sounds betokening further arrivals. ‘That must be them now. Where’s Harry?’ And she rustled off in search of her husband.
In the space of ten seconds, Cassie suddenly foresaw what was about to happen. Nell would produce her surprise guests with a dramatic flourish, bringing the whole room to a standstill … and the unknown Frenchwoman, who hadn’t wanted to come, was going to be embarrassed.
Grabbing Henrietta Leighton’s hand, she said rapidly, ‘In about two minutes’ time, everyone’s going to stop talking and stare. They mustn’t. Get help. Isabel - Mr Audley – oh, anyone quick-thinking! I need to warn Nicholas.’
Although she blinked in astonishment, Mistress Leighton didn’t waste time asking questions. And Cassie, gaining Lord Nicholas’s side, said urgently, ‘Nell’s planned a surprise. She means well but it may not turn out that way.’
‘What?’ He looked back, half laughing and half baffled. ‘Explain, please.’
‘I can’t. There’s no time. Just turn away from the door and keep talking to me.’ Then, fiercely, as he opened his mouth to speak, ‘This isn’t about you, Nick – so just do as I say!’
He frowned slightly but did as she asked. Beyond his shoulder, Cassie saw Nell and Harry enter the room with a fair-haired gentleman and a stunning, willowy redhead. Exactly as she’d feared, about half the guests fell silent; the rest, fortunately, continued talking with unabated determination.
‘Can I look now?’ whispered Nicholas; while at exactly the same moment, Lady Elinor said triumphantly, ‘Lord Amberley … I believe you’re acquainted with Monsieur and Mademoiselle Delacroix?’
Cassie relaxed. One could always rely on Amberley to banish awkwardness and both Philip Vernon and Mr Ingram were already moving towards them. From further cross the room, Mr Audley tossed a cheerful grin in Aristide’s direction and accorded Madeleine a bow of acknowledgement, then went on with what he had been saying to Isabel.
Nicely played, thought Cassie.
Nicholas, meanwhile, simply froze, before very slowly turning around. He ignored his sister, allowed his eyes to connect briefly first with those of Lord Harry and then Aristide … and finally they settled on Madeleine.
A faint and not very convincing smile on her lips, Madeleine kept her chin at a defiant angle and her gaze on the marquis. Smiling easily, Amberley bowed over her hand, murmured some conventional pleasantry and then, drawing his wife forward in the curve of his arm, said, ‘Rosalind – I’d like you to meet Mademoiselle Delacroix and her brother. Either Nell or Harry must have worked some kind of miracle in order to persuade them to join us this evening.’
‘Oh?’ Rosalind held out her hand, encountered cold, stiff fingers and closed her own around them before they could be withdrawn. ‘It’s a pleasure, Mademoiselle – though I don’t believe my husband’s talk of miracles. Nell’s usual technique is one of simply bludgeoning us all into submission.’
The cold hand grew a little less rigid and Madeleine said, ‘In that case, she has a great deal in common with my brother.’
Rosalind laughed. ‘Is that true, Monsieur?’
‘No. It is defamation of the worst kind.’ Knowing of Lady Amberley’s disability, Aristide captured her fingers and bowed over them. ‘And for myself … I am delighted to have the privilege of meeting so lovely a lady.’
‘Steady, Aristide,’ warned Amberley, deliberately dissolving any lingering tension, ‘I’m a fair shot, you know.’
Through the ripple of male laughter, Nicholas strolled towards the newcomers. He shook hands with Aristide and then, bowing to Madeleine, said, ‘This is an unexpected pleasure, Mademoiselle. Allow me to say how lovely you look this evening.’
She curtsied and, with a complete absence of expression, said, ‘Thank you, my lord. You are most kind.’
Silence loomed on the horizon again and, sensing it, Isabel took measures of her own. She rapped Sebastian’s wrist with her fan and said clearly, ‘That’s quite enough of that, Mr Audley. Philip may not shoot quite as well as Lord Amberley but I am assured that he has a very punishing Left – whatever that may be.’
Philip grinned. Sebastian, who had in fact been reciting chess terminology, gravely remarked that, in that case, he would behave … which left Isabel free to ask for an introduction to the newcomers.
Nell, meanwhile, bore down on Cassie.
‘You told him, didn’t you?’
‘No. I merely made sure that not quite everybody stopped talking and turned to stare.’
‘They wouldn’t have.’
‘Yes, Nell. They would. Not for very long, I admit – but long enough to make Mademoiselle uncomfortable. I assumed you wouldn’t want that.’
‘No, of course not. But I did hope Nicholas might have had some reaction.’
‘He did. He just had the wit not to show it.’ And will almost certainly have something to say to Harry later, unless I miss my guess, she thought, as Nell stalked away – apparently once more in relentless hostess-mode.
Cassie took the opportunity to look at her fellow guests. With the exception of Mr Audley who was conversing with Harry’s cousin Henrietta, the other gentlemen were gathered loosely about Monsieur Delacroix, allowing the ladies to draw his sister into their own circle. Lightly-built and only a little above medium height, Aristide Delacroix was blond, blue-eyed and impeccably dressed; he was also quite good-looking, thought Cassie – and might have appeared more so had he not been in the same room as Nicholas Wynstanton and Sebastian Audley. As for Madeleine Delacroix … it was no mystery why Nicholas might want to capture her attention. She was stunning. Pale red hair, alabaster skin, eyes the colour of water running over moss and the slender, lissom body of a dancer. Some girls, reflected Cassie ruefully, were born with a whole battery of unfair advantages.
Mr Audley and Henrietta walked over to join her.
Henrietta said, ‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’
‘Very,’ agreed Cassie. And with a sideways glance at Sebastian, ‘I suppose you’ve met the lady before?’
‘Just once.’
‘And?’
‘And as you have both said, she’s uncommonly lovely.’
Cassie sensed something he wasn’t saying but couldn’t think of a way to ask what it was. So instead, she said cautiously, ‘Nell thinks that Nicholas has formed a tendre for her.’
‘Yes. A common theory … but one I’ve never heard Nicholas say anything to support.’
‘You’re suggesting we all mind our own business.’ Henrietta smiled up at him, prior to moving away to join the cluster of ladies gathered around Madeleine, admiring the elegance of her bronze-green taffeta. ‘And you’re right. We should.’
Left temporarily alone with Sebastian and addressing the silver embroidered vest beneath the beautifully cut dark blue coat, Cassie said abruptly, ‘If I was rude yesterday, I apologise. I know you only meant to be helpful.’
‘That was certainly one of my motives – though not necessarily the only one.’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes flew to meet his but before she could say anything further, Nell was claiming everyone’s attention.
‘I thought,’ she announced, ‘that we might have a little dancing before supper – if Althea wouldn’t mind playing, that is.’
Mistress Ingram blushed. ‘No, really Nell – I’m sure one of the other ladies --’
‘Well, I can’t speak for Mademoiselle Delacroix - but none of the rest of us play nearly as well as you do, Thea. So will you? Just a gavotte and perhaps a quadrille? And it doesn’t matter that one of the gentlemen must be left without a partner because Nicholas won’t dance anyway.’
Minutes later Althea was seated at the harpsichord with Nicholas lounging at her side, ostensibly to turn the pages while everyone else found partners. Much to Cassie’s surprise, Monsieur Delacroix bowed to her and said gravely, ‘It’s a breach of etiquette, since we have not yet been introduced – but I believe your father is Sir Charles Delahaye?’
‘He is indeed.’ Cassie smiled, curtsied and extended her hand. ‘Since Nell has decided we shall not be formal this evening, I think we might dispense with introductions – though I hope to meet your sister later. Meanwhile, I’m very happy to meet you, sir.’
Aristide’s serious expression melted into a startlingly warm smile.
‘Ah. Yes. From the little Lord Sarre has told me, I thought that I would like you.’
This was neither socially correct nor even predictable. Cassie blushed.
The opening gavotte was followed by a quadrille which Cassie danced with Harry – and after which Nell begged for a minuet before supper.
‘Only if someone else plays,’ said Mr Ingram pleasantly. ‘I’d like to dance with my wife.’
‘Oh – of course. That’s only fair.’ Nell glanced hopefully at the other ladies. ‘Cassie?’
‘Absolutely not! When someone is listening, all my fingers turn into thumbs.’
‘Oh. Isabel, then? Henrietta? Anyone?’
‘Why,’ asked Sebastian, ‘does it have to be one of the ladies?’
And handing Althea from the bench, he sat down himself and launched upon a brief and lively jig. Several jaws dropped, then toes began to tap; and taking Henrietta Leighton completely by surprise, Philip Vernon twirled her expertly the entire length of the room, laughing all the way.
The tune ended as quickly as it had begun and in a scattering of appreciative applause.
‘Where on earth did you learn to do that?’ asked Lord Harry.
‘Don’t be too impressed. I play by ear and that’s one of the few tunes I mastered. As for where – Cambridge. It passed the time when there was nobody to take me on at chess.’
Music and chess? thought Cassie. That’s not how young men usually spend their time at university. And then, It sounds rather lonely.
‘Well – vexing as it is – you can’t play now,’ Nell was saying firmly. ‘That would leave a lady without a partner.’
‘I’ll do it,’ volunteered the Marchioness of Amberley. And seeming not to notice the mild shock her words had produced, added, ‘I don’t play as well as either Althea or Mr Audley, of course … but I can manage a minuet.’
Along with the rest, Madeleine watched the Marquis guide his wife to the harpsichord; she watched her ladyship sit down and run silent, searching hands over the keys without looking down at them; and the truth suddenly dawned.
Oh my God, thought Madeleine. She’s blind. That lovely, kind woman is blind – and not once in the last hour did I guess it. Then, bitterly, And I thought coming here to face Nicholas Wynstanton made me brave. What a fool I am.
‘There are conditions, by the way,’ remarked Rosalind, picking out a series of chords.
‘Name them,’ invited Harry. ‘No one’s in any position to argue.’
‘The married couples dance together; the remaining gentlemen choose a lady they haven’t partnered before; and, since I clearly don’t need a page-turner, Nicholas – go and join in. Dominic won’t mind sitting this one out.’
For the first time that Nicholas could remember, he half-wanted to join in the dancing and had even briefly considered it. The last time he’d danced had been at the Pantheon with Caroline Maitland, as she’d been then. But Caroline had laughed the whole time and it had been fun. The only lady he wanted to dance with tonight wouldn’t laugh. She’d think his mistakes were a deliberate ploy to make her look foolish. So he groaned and said, ‘You don’t know what you’re asking, Rosalind – though nearly every lady here could tell you – and I don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’re among friends, are you not?’
‘That’s just the trouble. There’s not an ounce of Christian charity among ’em.’
‘True enough,’ grinned Philip Vernon. ‘Come on, Nick. We won’t laugh … much.’
While this had been going on, Sebastian decided he’d been good long enough and had earned the right to have what he wanted. Since the moment Cassandra had walked in wearing that ethereal green and amethyst gown, one thought had been hammering through his brain. If I’d sent more violets, would she have worn them?
Offering her a mischievous grin, along with his hand, he murmured, ‘If Nick’s as bad as you said, he won’t do it. Mademoiselle Delacroix doesn’t strike me as someone who has truck with anything less than perfection.’
Cassie drew a long breath and made the ultimate sacrifice.
‘So if they won’t let Nicholas say no, I’d better dance with him.’
The twilight eyes rested on her thoughtfully.
‘That would clearly be the kind thing to do. Unfortunately, I’m not feeling quite that charitable.’ And he tucked her hand through his arm and held it there, causing something inside Cassie to dissolve into mindless joy.
Madeleine watched Lord Nicholas trying to elude his friends’ teasing but suspected that, male pride being what it was, he’d end up doing what they wanted. It was also clear that she was going to be the one partnering him – a prospect that put her nerves in a tangle. But recalling Aristide’s words about proving her indifference, she caught then held Nicholas’s glance … and waited.
Nicholas didn’t know whether to trust that look or not. What he did know was that he wasn’t going to escape ridicule, no matter what he did. So he summoned a smile and said, ‘All right. I give in. Since you’re all determined to see me make an ass of myself, on your own heads be it. Mademoiselle Madeleine … will you help me indulge them?’
She smiled back, albeit coolly. ‘Certainly, my lord. But perhaps we may surprise them?’
‘No chance of that, I’m afraid.’ Taking her hand, he led her to join the others and while Rosalind played some bars of introduction, said quietly, ‘I apologise in advance for the fact that the best I can promise is not to tread on your toes. If you felt inclined to be helpful, the odd indication of Right, Left, Forward or Back wouldn’t go amiss.’
The green eyes widened but she gave a single, tiny nod. And then the dance began.
Madeleine hadn’t expected to enjoy it. She stayed away from Nicholas Wynstanton because he destroyed her peace of mind when she didn’t. Moreover, though she rarely had the opportunity to dance, she did it well and therefore appreciated a partner of equal ability. For both reasons, treading a measure with Lord Nicholas could only be torture. And yet, it wasn’t. After bumping into him when he turned right instead of left and having to catch him when he stepped forward instead of back, she took him at his word and started issuing directions. Things went better after that; and though he somehow managed to trip Lord Harry and elbow Philip Vernon under the jaw, it was fairly clear that these mishaps weren’t accidental. Sitting beside his wife, Lord Amberley was responsible for a number of missed notes by whispering a running commentary which made her giggle.
When the dance ended and Madeleine made the mistake of looking up into his lordship’s face, she discovered that it was brimming with laughter. Just for a second, he was so irresistibly attractive that her brain stopped functioning.
Bowing over her hand, he said, ‘Well … that wasn’t so bad, was it? What do you think?’
Without warning, answering laughter welled up inside her and it required every ounce of control she had to repress it. She said, ‘I think I’d prefer not to comment.’
‘That,’ remarked Sebastian Audley, ‘is undoubtedly wise. Have you met Mistress Delahaye yet? No? Cassandra – Mademoiselle Delacroix.’
Cassie shot him a brief sideways glance, then offered her hand to Madeleine saying with a smile, ‘I’ve been waiting all evening for an introduction – mostly for the chance to compliment you on your gown. It’s beautiful.’
‘As is yours,’ came the polite reply. ‘Maison Phanie, of course.’
Nipping this conversation in the bud, Nicholas said, ‘Nell is herding everyone in to supper. If you want to talk fashion, you can do it over food. The one thing I’ll say for Nell is that she keeps a good table.’
The second they moved away, Cassie paused beside Sebastian and over the odd, melting sensation that had still not gone away, said, ‘I’ve never given you leave to use my name.’
‘Give it to me now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s a lovely name and it suits you. And you might appreciate there being at least one person who doesn’t shorten it.’ He waited and when she said nothing, asked curiously, ‘Why do you let them?’
‘It’s not a question of ‘letting’. Everyone just does it. It’s a habit.’
‘Break it. God knows, anyone who was ever crass enough to call me either Seb or Bastian learned their mistake in short order.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Now … who do you want to sit with? The Amberley-Ingram-Vernons or the group currently gathering about Harry, Aristide and Mistress Leighton?’ Or better yet, he added silently, just me?
Having managed to separate herself and Nicholas from the others on the pretext of going back for her fan, Madeleine paused just outside the supper room and looked him in the eye. Then, stiffening her spine, she said, ‘I hope that we have now laid to rest any misconceptions you may have had regarding my attitude towards you, my lord.’
Nicholas blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I am referring to my reasons for generally preferring to avoid your company.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell it out.’
‘Very well. You have given every indication of wishing to pursue me. I have attempted to make it plain that I would rather you didn’t. This is not due to personal dislike or, indeed, any personal feelings at all. I would say the same to any gentleman who appeared to entertain the hopes I suspect that you do.’
‘Ah.’ Much of his lordship’s pleasure in the last half hour evaporated. ‘Well, that’s certainly put me in my place, hasn’t it?’
‘That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to make the position clear.’
‘Then let’s finish the job, shall we?’ Nicholas told himself that the tight feeling inside him was annoyance. ‘Precisely what are these hopes you think I have?’
‘Given the great gulf between our stations in life, I can only think of one thing.’ The effort to keep both face and voice utterly dispassionate was beginning to strain her resources and she’d hoped to avoid saying what she’d have to say next. ‘If you are looking for a mistress, Lord Nicholas, you should look elsewhere.’
The feeling that actually hadn’t had anything at all to do with annoyance suddenly became a gust of blazing anger. Grasping her wrist, Nicholas yanked her out of sight of the other guests and immediately released her. Then, in a tone of dangerous softness reminiscent of his brother, he said, ‘What the hell do you think I am, Madam? Aristide is a friend of mine and you are his sister. Even if I was in the habit of seducing respectable females – which I’m not – those two facts render you untouchable.’
Pale with shock, she absorbed the muscle beating in his jaw and eyes filled with temper. Feeling as if she had strayed into quicksand, she said, ‘Then what do you want with me?’
‘Now? Nothing. Previously? I had the idea that I would enjoy getting to know you better.’ His smile was hard and the sudden fury had been replaced with frigid courtesy. ‘My mistake, it seems. And now, allow me to relieve you of my unwelcome company and escort you to join the others.’
The buffet supper was a feast for the eyes as well as the palate and contained numerous unfamiliar delicacies that Madeleine would have liked to sample in order to describe them to the Gallic genius who ruled Sinclairs’ kitchen. As it was, she could barely force anything past the inexplicable obstruction in her throat. While everyone ate, drank, talked and migrated from group to group, she became aware that Lord Nicholas neither came within ten feet of her nor even glanced in her direction. She tried to tell herself she’d done what was necessary and that he’d get over it; but somewhere deep down inside, she felt ashamed.
In due course, she was drawn into a circle composed solely of the married ladies. At first, the conversation was all about fashion or the latest gossip. But after a while, Lady Elinor said, ‘I probably shouldn’t ask and if you’d rather not talk about it you need only say … but I wondered if you’d tell us about Sinclairs, Mademoiselle. It’s very provoking when one’s husband spends his evenings in a place one can never go oneself.’
‘Yes. I can imagine.’ Madeleine summoned a smile and briefly described Sinclairs – being sure to include the fact that, aside from members of staff, no females ever entered the premises.
By the time she stopped speaking, Nell’s eyes had gathered an expression that both Isabel Vernon and Althea Ingram knew spelled trouble. She said, ‘The club is closed during the day, isn’t it?’
‘At present, yes. Why do you ask?’
‘I thought … I wondered if some of us might have a private tour one afternoon.’
‘Stop it, Nell,’ said Isabel.
‘Why?’
‘You’re asking Mademoiselle to break a house rule,’ contributed Rosalind. ‘And if I were her, I might suppose you’d invited me here this evening with that very thing in mind.’
‘But I didn’t!’ Nell looked at Madeleine, her gaze slightly stricken. ‘Truly, the idea only just occurred to me.’
‘Of course,’ murmured Madeleine.
‘Don’t let her off too lightly,’ advised Isabel. ‘The rest of us are quite accustomed to these wild starts.’
‘I only asked,’ grumbled Nell. ‘What’s so terrible about that? Don’t tell me the rest of you aren’t curious because I won’t believe it. And if Mademoiselle says no, then that’s the end of the matter.’ She smiled invitingly at Madeleine. ‘Well?’
Not unlike others before her, Madeleine felt as if she’d fallen into the path of a tidal wave. But these ladies had welcomed her in a way she’d never expected so she said slowly, ‘I would have to consult with my brother, of course … but I cannot see that it would pose much difficulty. And perhaps you would all care to call me Madeleine?’
Having no idea what his wife was plotting, Harry Caversham poured his brother-in-law a glass of port and said quietly, ‘What’s wrong, Nick? Annoyed I didn’t warn you?’
Nicholas tossed back the port in one swallow.
‘Should I not be?’
‘Perhaps. But I’ve a suspicion it’s more than that.’
‘Indigestion,’ said his lordship negligently. ‘Something seems to have disagreed with me. Is there any chance of a quiet hand of cards, do you think?’
‘Not tonight. Nell was adamant that the party shouldn’t split in two.’
Nicholas looked at him. ‘She has more torture planned?’
Harry grinned ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Hell.’
When she was sure everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, Nell re-assembled her troops in the drawing-room and said, ‘Who’d like to suggest a game?’
Nicholas wasn’t the only guest who groaned.
Jack Ingram said, ‘Parlour games, Nell? Aren’t we all a little old for that?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ retorted Philip.
‘In fact, he was speaking for me as well,’ remarked Lord Amberley. And when Philip opened his mouth to reply, ‘Don’t. Do not point out that I am the oldest person present. If games are to be the order of the day, I suspect I shall feel the weight of my years without being reminded of them.’
Since the Marquis of Amberley was thirty-seven years old and one of the handsomest men in London, his wife wasn’t the only one who laughed. Lady Elinor, however, sensing an undesirable distraction, said, ‘How about Charades?’
Cassie and Isabel nodded, Nicholas dropped his head in his hands and, pleasantly but with finality, Amberley said, ‘No.’
‘Dominic – it doesn’t matter,’ murmured Rosalind.
‘It does.’
‘Of course it does,’ echoed Nell. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘Blind Man’s Buff,’ said Sebastian, looking with raised brows at the marquis who grinned and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
‘Yes!’ Rosalind sat up, laughing. ‘None of you will stand a chance!’
‘That,’ remarked her husband, ‘is unfortunately true. Her instincts are frightening.’
‘Blind Man’s Buff it is, then,’ declared Harry. ‘The ladies can find a blindfold while we gentlemen move the chairs. Rules? Are there any?’
‘Stay in the circle,’ said Nell, twisting a silk scarf into a narrow strip. ‘Keep moving until the Blind Man counts to twenty, then stand still – though ducking is allowed.’
‘A slightly different round, to begin,’ suggested Amberley. ‘I’ll wager five guineas that Rosalind can identify everybody here. Any takers?’
‘Only if you put a time limit on it,’ said Philip. ‘Otherwise I’m not wagering a groat.’
‘Thirteen people to identify,’ mused Harry. ‘A minute each, do you think?’
‘Too generous. All of us inside … seven minutes?’
‘Done,’ said Rosalind happily, as her husband guided her to the centre of the circle and started gently turning her. ‘Place your bets, gentlemen – and get ready to pay up.’
When she stopped counting and everyone was still, Rosalind walked unerringly across the carpet to the first person she found and said, ‘Jack. The only gentleman wearing hair powder.’
Mr Ingram laughed and sat down.
After that, everyone else was named with remarkable speed and efficiency.
‘Bergamot scent … Cassie.’
‘Philip … too much braid on your cuffs as usual.’
‘Your gown rustles delightfully, Madeleine.’
‘Ah. Dominic. You may kiss me.’
‘Isabel … lemon soap.’
‘Mm. Tricky. But … yes. Mr Audley, I think.’
And so it went on, each sitting down in their turn, until Rosalind said, ‘That’s all thirteen. How long?’
‘Six minutes fifteen seconds.’ Mr Ingram put his pocket-watch away, tossed a coin to Lord Amberley and submitted to being blind-folded. ‘I should have known better.’
Jack made three incorrect guesses before eventually identifying Aristide; Aristide named Henrietta on his first attempt; Henrietta guessed Nicholas on her first attempt; and Rosalind astounded everyone further by dropping into a crouch a split second before she could be touched.
From his position on the far side of the circle, Sebastian watched Cassandra trying to emulate the marchioness’s tactics and lose several hairpins when she ducked too late and Philip’s hand collided with her upswept curls, several of which came down to bounce against her neck. Managing to grab her whilst provoking fits of laughter, Philip proceeded to identify her as Althea Ingram.
Sebastian found this mistake incomprehensible. He was fairly sure he could recognise Cassandra at ten paces. If that thought was mildly alarming, the one that followed it – though no more than a logical progression – set alarm bells ringing.
The storm-cloud eyes sparkled, the petal-smooth skin was flushed … and Sebastian wanted to kiss her. Indeed, had circumstances permitted it, he realised he probably would have kissed her. And then, because he wasn’t in the habit of deceiving himself, he acknowledged that there was no ‘probably’ about it. All of which added up to one simple fact. For a sensible man who was very definitely not looking for a bride, it was time to give this particular lady a very wide berth indeed.
The trouble was, as Sebastian knew only too well, he’d never been particularly sensible … and he had a fatally low resistance to temptation.