Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel. Mary Brendan
squire’s youngest son, grabbed his sister by the hand and dragged her on to the floor, to the accompanying cheers of his friends, who quickly found their own partners and joined them.
As the floor became more crowded, Sandford skilfully guided Harriet around the less-practised pairs. So smooth were his steps and the pressure of his hands was so confidently in command of her body that she began to feel quite heady, as though she were skimming across a frozen lake. She had waltzed several times before, at the winter headquarters in Lisbon, but never with such an expert. She glanced up at his face, which was curiously expressionless, his eyes carefully anticipating unexpected manoeuvres from all sides. Like a general going into battle, she thought suddenly and choked back her laughter in a hiccough.
He looked down at her in concern and almost missed his step. The laughter brimmed into her eyes as her lips curved in a wide smile.
‘You don’t seem to be enjoying this much, my lord,’ she challenged him. ‘In fact, onlookers might suppose that you were undergoing some sort of penance.’
The viscount studied her animated face and sighed. ‘My apologies,’ he said wryly. ‘I suppose I was trying to impress you.’
He swept her round another untutored pair as he spoke and she marvelled once more at his ability. ‘Oh, but I am,’ she said. ‘Impressed, I mean. You’ve obviously done this before.’
Sandford laughed and his spirits began to rise. ‘A fair bit. It was all the rage in Vienna last year.’
He sidestepped nimbly to avoid a young couple in danger of imminent disaster and, in doing so, drew Harriet more closely to him. This is more like it, he thought with a surge of satisfaction.
‘More pleasant than our continual jousting, wouldn’t you say?’ He tightened his hold around her waist. ‘A much better way of ‘'getting to grips” with one’s enemy.’
Harriet looked up at him in consternation as he swung her around once more. ‘I do not consider you to be an enemy, my lord,’ she protested, ‘and I trust you do not think of me in that way.’
Sandford smiled down into her eyes. ‘Better if I don’t tell you how I do think of you, perhaps?’
Harriet, flustered, drew her eyes away from his and missed her step. Swiftly, he corrected his to hers and they were once more in time with the music.
Struggling to keep her eyes away from his outrageous gleam, Harriet attempted to devote her attention to her footwork. She refused to look up, but had the strangest sensation that the viscount was laughing at her. She caught sight of Charles Ridgeway quite competently shepherding Judith around the room and both were looking extremely pleased with themselves. All at once her reticence evaporated and, tossing her head back, she relaxed into the haven of Sandford’s embrace and abandoned herself to the compulsive rhythm of the dance.
Sandford’s cup was full. Holding her in his arms at last made him feel as though he had won a great victory. He wished that the music could go on forever, taking them both into a land where there would be no more bickering, no stand-offs, no contention, just pure unadulterated bliss. Oblivious to all else around them, together they swayed and moved as one, whirling and twirling in perfect harmony. Inevitably, the spell was broken as Lady Eugenie played her last triumphant chord and the roomful of laughing, breathless couples swung finally to a halt.
There was a burst of spontaneous applause from both dancers and audience alike and the younger ones crowded around Judith, begging for just one encore but, shaking her head, she smilingly pointed at the clock, for it was almost midnight and, as she reminded them, the following day was Sunday.
In the darkened carriage Sandford leaned back against the velvet squabs with his eyes closed, only half-listening to his mother’s approving comments regarding the success of the evening. He had to strain to catch Harriet’s soft replies to the countess’s questions, but found himself quite content just to hear the rippling sound of her voice. He was acutely conscious of the sensation of being at the threshold of some lofty precipice where a single false step would send him hurtling into an uncharted ravine. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow I shall tread lightly and with great care.
Chapter Seven
‘There’s a letter for you, Miss Cordell,’ said Rose, as she helped her mistress remove her pelisse on her return from the morning service.
‘A letter?’ exclaimed Harriet, examining the sealed missive curiously. ‘Who can have written to me—I saw everyone I know at church this morning!’
‘Ned sent it up from the gate lodge, miss,’ ‘said Rose, hanging up the outdoor garments. Said it had been pushed under the door.’
Harriet unfolded the paper and read the contents with a frown. Dearest—meet me tomorrow in our own special place—C.
Puzzled, she turned the note over to check the direction and saw her name clearly written there.
‘Well, it can’t be meant for me—who do I know with that initial? Charles Ridgeway, to be sure, but I am certain it is not he—and young Lambert, last evening—oh! I see!’
Smiling broadly, she sat down and removed her bonnet. ‘It’s some sort of boyish prank, I suspect—a wager with one of his friends, I suppose—although I don’t quite see—still, it’s of no importance.’ And she tossed the note aside and allowed Rose to tidy her hair before going to the earl’s chamber to keep her promise of giving him a full account of the previous evening’s entertainment.
She found his lordship sitting in a large armchair by the window and clapped her hands in delight. ‘You are out of bed!’ she exclaimed, as she bent to kiss the top of his head.
He held out his hand and motioned her to a footstool at his feet.
‘So you’ve come to tell me of your great success.’ He smiled. ‘I fear you have been forestalled. Sandford has already been here singing your praises. I hear he had to fight his way through the mêlée to dance with you!’
Harriet blushed guiltily as she recalled the embarrassment she had caused the viscount over her mix-up with the dances, although it would appear from the earl’s words that she had been forgiven for her lapse.
‘Not quite, my lord,’ she said. ‘But it was all very great fun and Judith looked delightful. She came out of mourning especially—you do not mind?’ She looked at him anxiously, conscious of the knowledge that Philip had been his son.
The earl shook his head and sighed. ‘No, poor child. It is time. She has a life of her own to live.’ He patted her hand. ‘Now, what about this daring exhibition you gave with Sandford?’
Harriet beamed. ‘Oh, he must take all the credit for that, my lord. I was completely innocent and taken totally off guard, I assure you! But he does dance divinely, you know!’ At her vivid recollection of that episode her heart seemed to skip several beats.
‘Takes after his sire, of course,’ chortled the earl.
Quickly marshalling her thoughts, Harriet took hold of his hand and replied with an impish grin, ‘Then I insist on being privy to these remarkable skills! So you must make haste to get back on to both feet.
Beldale studied her animated face. ‘I doubt I shall be on my feet before you leave, child,’ he said, his voice gentle.
Harriet flinched and her vivid eyes clouded over.
‘I keep forgetting,’ she said tremulously. ‘When I am here with you I keep forgetting!’
She bent her head to brush away a tear and the earl laid his hand on her burnished locks and smiled a strange, quiet smile to himself.
‘Now, now, no tears today, if you please,’ he commanded briskly. ‘I demand to be amused. Tell me more of Judith’s party.’
Harriet dismissed