“Everyone has been asking for you,” Nelda declared. “Where ever have you been?”
“It was my dress. Do you think it is too revealing? Everyday my chest seems to grow bigger,” Gillian groaned.
“At least you have one,” Nelda complained, looking down at her own neckline. Wide ruffles of soft lace billowed over the flattened bodice of her yellow satin dress.
“Do not despair. Your body may change yet. Besides it is most inconvenient. In another year I will be bubbling out of all my clothes like the opera dancers I have heard about.”
“Who has been talking to you about such creatures?”
“Philip Favel-Chapenham. I think he wanted to impress me with how sophisticated he was. He was in London at the theatre and saw a woman with a dress of dampened muslin.” Gillian put her mouth close to her friend’s ear and whispered. “Philip said you could see her titties right through the material.”
A rush of color flooded Nelda’s face and she clapped her hands over her mouth to hold back a shriek of horror. Her eyes were enormous, pools of dark blue above the white of her mittens. When she could speak with some composure she gave Gillian a speaking look.
“You should not speak so,” she said, shaking her head in despair. “Just imagine if someone were to overhear.”
“Penny is always prosing on about such a dreadful possibility.” Gillian tried to look contrite but suspected such an expression was beyond her acting abilities. Diplomatically, she changed the subject. “Your party is surely a success. Everyone has turned out in fine state.”
“Mama is in high alt,” Nelda confided. “Her only disappointment was that the Earl of Elmore was unable to attend due to a previous commitment in London.”
“She invited Chad?”
“Mama was hoping he might bring his future countess to Maynard Hall for Christmas.”
Gillian snorted, then looked around to be sure Penny was not within hearing distance. Her governess had warned her about making such a vulgar sound. “Chad has been engaged for six months and we have not seen as much as the back of his carriage. I cannot think that he would invite Lady Chesterley here when he has not been home for Christmas in the last four years.”
“I know that, but Mama always wants to insure the social coup of the year. It would raise her consequence to extremes if she could be the first to introduce Edwina Chesterley to the county.”
Knowing how important the battles for ascendancy in society were to Nelda’s mother, the girls smiled at each other. They might have been less tolerant, if the squire’s wife had not been so reasonable in other things.
“I wonder what she is like,” Gillian mused. “When I was growing up, Chad was my very best friend. I think of him so often. It came as such a surprise when I heard he was to marry. I guess I held out the hope that when he finally came home we would still be friends.”
“You will always be friends,” Nelda said, her voice crisply bracing.
“That’s true but it will not be the same if he is married.” Gillian cleared her throat, blinking back a sudden rise of tears. Determinedly she smiled at her friend then let her eyes scan the ballroom. “With such a squeeze I just noticed that Robbie is not here. Where on earth can he be?”
There was no immediate answer to her question for the music was starting and her first partner came to claim her. She smiled with pleasure as they took the floor, for she loved the graceful movements and pattern of steps to each dance. Giving herself up to the expertise of her partner and the rhythm of the music, she thought about Robert Worthington.
Robbie had been one of her father’s pupils. He lived only two miles away, so that Gillian had known him all her life. She had always treated him with the most casual good humor, never thinking of him as anything but a friend. It was about a year ago, that she first realized he was singling her out, making a point to speak to her at every social event. She knew he was waiting for some sign that she returned his affection but for the longest time she had been unable to give it.
It was true when she told Nelda that Chad’s engagement had come as a shock. She had been depressed from the moment she had heard the news. She supposed it was the sudden realization that her childhood was coming to an end. It was time to consider how she wanted to spend the remainder of her life. Much as she loved life with her father, she wanted a home of her own and children. For that she would have to marry.
The week after she had made such a momentous decision, Robbie called to pay a visit. The day was warm and they walked in the woods, cooled beneath the shading canopy of trees. They talked easily, as old friends. She noted Robbie’s good-natured face and gentleness of manner. He had the ruddy complexion of a farmer and mischievous blue eyes. Best of all he was at least a quarter of an inch taller than she. By the end of the walk, Gillian had given him to understand that she would not be against getting to know him better.
“I understand, young lady, that this is my dance.”
Ethan’s voice brought Gillian out of her reverie and she smiled a welcome as she heard the first strains of the waltz.
“Is it only because Robbie is not here that I am so honored?” he asked as he led her out onto the floor.
“Not at all, Papa,” she cried. “It is a genuine pleasure to be so well partnered.”
It was true. She was comfortable dancing with her father, for he had taught her all the steps. She remembered Miss Pennington playing the harpsichord while her father swirled her around the drawing room until they both were breathless.
“I assume Robbie will be here later.” Gillian nodded and Ethan noted the blush on her cheeks. “No need to color up. He is a good lad. Perhaps not an intellectual giant but not a dunderhead either. You could do worse.”
“There is nothing for it, Papa. I would be at my last prayers if I waited for a man with your wisdom and learning.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest. “True, my dear. But do not attempt to turn the subject by appealing to my pride. Robbie is a likeable young man. He has an honest heart and I see no meanness in his temperament. He has the advantage of being an only son. He will inherit a prime estate, close on to the area where you’ve been raised. You would not have to give up family and friends if you married thus. It would seem that the young man is smitten. Do you return his affection?”
“He is a great friend of mine,” she temporized.
“That’s a good start, daughter. I would never consider giving my permission to a match if there was not liking between you. But is there more?”
“I-I’m not sure.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, giving herself up to the movement of the dance. “Before I came this evening I thought I knew the answer to that question. How can I know if I am making the right decision?”
Gillian stared up into her father’s face, hoping to find some clue in his expression. There was the gentlest of smiles on his lips and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.
“It would be very easy to advise you, dear child,” he said. “If I did not have the greatest confidence in your judgment, I would be tempted to guide you to what I think is the proper decision. However, it is you who will have to live with the consequences of your actions. When the time comes to give an answer, listen to your heart.”
Ethan returned her to Nelda’s side and after talking to both girls for several minutes, he excused himself.
“Have you ladies saved me a dance?”
Gillian jumped at Robbie’s voice so close to her ear. She turned to him with a cry of exasperation. “You will frighten us both to death, Mr. Worthington,” she snapped.
“Fustian!” Giving her a look of disdain, he reached up automatically to smooth the cowlick that threatened to break through the control of his pomade. Not only was his hair the color of wheat, it was almost as unmanageable. “You are no simpering maiden, Miss Foster, subject to the vapors. Perhaps Nelda here has sensibilities but you are made of sterner stuff.”
“Fiddlesticks!” She snapped her fan shut and slapped him on the wrist before he could say anything more.
“Now what are you going on about, Gillian.” His tone was aggrieved. “You are probably angry because I am late. I realize I have missed the opening sets but Nelda’s father assures me the musicians will continue late into the evening. Don’t be cross. My horse had a fall and injured his leg. I had to leave him at the inn in the village. Despite my lateness, I hope you’ve saved me a dance.” He turned to include Nelda who had remained silent throughout their wordplay. “Darling Nelda, intercede for me with Gillian and I shall sign any blank spots on your dance card. I am expert at the country dances but I must admit my waltzing is considered far superior to most.”
“There is nothing I can say to Gillian that you have not already announced,” Nelda said. “But do sign my card for I see Oliver Lancet coming to claim me.”
With much good humor, Robbie signed her dance card then turned to take Gillian’s. “What luck, my girl! You are free now. You must have saved this for me for I know you could fill your entire card without my assistance. Even though you love to dance I’d much prefer to sit this one out. Couldn’t we find a quiet corner? I would like to speak with you.”
Gillian’s heart lurched at his words. Could he be intending to make her an offer tonight? She was not prepared to give him an answer. She glanced sideways, catching the frown on his face as he scanned the room for a place to sit. In a flash, she realized he did not plan to swift her off to some empty room. If she hadn’t panicked like some ninnyhammer, she would have known that he was much too proper to ask for her hand without first speaking to her father.
“There’s a settee in that small bay. I suppose it’s unoccupied because it’s so close to the chaperones.” Taking his hand, she led him around the periphery of the room. The alcove turned out to be nicer than it had first appeared. A profusion of plants from the squire’s hothouses lent an air of seclusion that did much to appease Robbie.
“Not bad by half, Gillian. And right under the noses of the gossiping old biddies.”
He handed her into a corner of the gold damask settee, then lowered himself, perching on the edge of the cushion as if ready for flight. Although Gillian was convinced he would not propose, she worried that he might declare his undying affection or something equally embarrassing. For once she could think of nothing to say. Her brain was numb. She cast about for a neutral subject, settling on horses as the least dangerous of topics.
“How is Pelligren’s leg?” In the aftermath of such a sparkling conversational gambit, a bubble of amusement threatened to send Gillian into whoops of laughter.
“Pelligren?” It was evident that Robbie’s mind was not focused.
“Yes, Pelligren. Your horse,” she added for clarification. “You said you had to leave him at the inn.”
“Oh, my horse. He’s better. Had a bad fall and hurt his leg.”
“Will there be any permanent damage?”
“To the horse?”
“Yes, to the horse.” She giggled at his total inability to concentrate. “Who did you think I meant?”
“Well I don’t know, to be sure. You’re the one asking the stupid questions. I don’t want to talk about horses.”
Gillian immediately felt guilty for finding amusement in his inattention. She knew why he was nervous and she hoped he would not think she was making fun of him. “I’m sorry, Robbie. I should have asked you what you wanted to talk about.”
“I want to talk about me. I mean us.” He stopped, took a deep breath then plunged ahead. “I’m going to London tomorrow on business. I’ll be gone several days. When I return, I’d like to come for a visit. I would like to speak to your father, unless you feel that it would be presumptuous of me.”
The words burst from Robbie’s lips as if they had been rehearsed until he could say them automatically. She took note of the tightly clenched hands and the pained expression on his face. She hesitated. She liked Robbie very well but did she want to marry him? Did she want him to speak to Papa? She remembered her father’s words: when the question was asked, she would know the answer.
“It would not be presumptuous of you to speak to Papa,” she said.
Her voice was so low that Robbie had to lean forward to hear her words. His face was so close that she could see the light of happiness that glowed in his eyes at her response. Perhaps in another setting he would have kissed her but in the crowded ballroom, he could only reach across and squeeze her hand.
Gillian had not realized how nervous she had been at the beginning of the evening. Once her talk with Robbie was concluded she was able to throw herself into a full enjoyment of the party. She had always loved dancing and she had a bevy of partners who were more than willing to exhaust themselves on the dance floor. It was after a particularly vigorous country dance that Gillian decided to treat herself to a solitary respite. She found a spot where she might see without being seen and, behind a screen of potted palms, she eased her much abused feet out of her slippers.
Keeping a wary eye out for the ever-observant Penny, Gillian spotted her father and the squire just returning from the buffet table. Deep in conversation, the two men stopped, oblivious to the fact they were totally blocking the doorway. Gillian watched the rainbow of figures twirling around the dance floor, wriggling her toes in time to the waltz.
In a soft blur of satin, Nelda glided by in Robbie’s arms. A golden ringlet lay against the girl’s flushed cheek and Gillian thought her friend had never looked so fetching. She wondered why Nelda had not accepted any offers. She was well dowered, although even without it, Gillian suspected, her friend’s sweet disposition and beauty would have drawn suitors from near and far. Nelda was popular but she treated everyone equally, never showing a preference for any of the young gentlemen who flocked to her side.
The music ended and Nelda dropped into a formal curtsy as Robbie bent over her hand. He raised her up and led her off the floor, seating her in one of the gilt chairs along the wall. Gillian smiled at Robbie’s courtly manner as he bowed once more before turning away.
If Gillian had not been observing them, she might have missed Nelda’s reaction to Robbie’s departure. The girl’s features contracted as if she were in the grip of intense pain. In an instant her countenance cleared and a lovely smile appeared to give Nelda an air of quiet serenity. Gillian blinked. It had been such a fleeting change of expression, that for a moment she thought it might have been a trick of the light. With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, Gillian recognized the flash of emotion she had seen in Nelda’s eyes. Her best friend was in love with Robbie Worthington.