Nicola Cornick - Lady Allerton's Wager

‘Kit, will you dance with me, please?’

Kit looked pained. ‘Must I? If this is some elaborate charade to avoid Trevithick—’

‘Kit!’ Beth frowned at her cousin’s lack of tact. ‘How can you be so unchivalrous? Even if it is, I still need your help!’

Kit grinned at her. ‘I only meant to warn you that Trevithick would not be fobbed off! By all means let us dance if we must!’

He took her arm and led her away from Marcus Trevithick, joining the set that was at the furthest end of the ballroom.

‘I saw you talking to Eleanor Trevithick when her mother’s back was turned,’ Beth said slyly, as they took their places. ‘If you seek to warn me, perhaps you will take some advice in turn? I hope you do not have a tendre there, Kit, for you must be doomed to disappointment!’

She had the satisfaction of seeing a hint of colour come into Kit’s lean cheek. He avoided her gaze. ‘Don’t know what you mean, Beth! Miss Trevithick is a charming girl, but I have no interest there!’

Beth smiled beatifically. ‘Of course not! How foolish of me even to imagine that you did!’

‘It’s bad enough having Charlotte dispensing advice,’ Kit said gloomily, ‘without my honorary sister joining in as well!’

They danced in perfect accord, though Beth found that she had to concentrate on her steps rather more than usual. Her gaze was drawn with tiresome repetitiveness to the tall figure of Marcus Trevithick as he threaded his way through the crowd and joined his mother and sister over by one of the long terrace windows. It seemed that some strange compulsion made it well nigh impossible for Beth to ignore him, for even when she was not looking at Marcus she sensed exactly where he was. It was only when Justin Trevithick came up to the family group and he and Marcus headed towards the card room that Beth started to relax, but by then the dance was ending. Kit bowed to her, then hastened away to claim another lady for the boulanger.

Beth was about to rejoin Lady Fanshawe, when she saw Marcus emerge unexpectedly from the card room again and start walking towards her through the crowd. She immediately dived towards the door and took refuge in the ladies’ withdrawing room, where she fretted and fidgeted for twenty minutes, uncertain whether Marcus would simply be waiting in the corridor outside. He was not. Wrestling with a mixture of relief and disappointment, Beth tiptoed back into the ballroom and saw that Marcus was now dancing with Eleanor. She made her way back to Lady Fanshawe’s corner of the room, only to find that her chaperon had disappeared.

Beth sat down, feeling a little self-conscious. She could see Kit, who was dancing with a plump debutante in a pink gown, but was looking over her shoulder all the time at Eleanor Trevithick. So much for his denials of an interest there! Beth smiled to herself. It seemed that she and her cousin were both caught in the same trap.

The crush in the ballroom was lessening now as some of the guests moved on to other engagements, and without the camouflage of the huge crowd Beth felt strangely vulnerable. She watched as the dance ended and saw Marcus look around and fix on her with an almost uncanny accuracy. In a candlelit room of a hundred and fifty people it seemed unreasonable that he was able to pick her out so quickly, but she did not feel she had time to stop and think about the implications. She started to edge towards the doors that led out on to the terrace, then paused, thinking that it would probably not be a good idea to wander out into the dark, especially on a cold autumn night. If Marcus decided to follow her they would end up playing hide-and-seek in the gardens and who could say where that would end. Glancing over her shoulder, Beth saw that he was getting closer to her, moving with a purposeful intent that was most disconcerting. She skittered along the edge of the dance floor, almost tripping over in her attempts to put some more distance between them. What she really needed now was someone to ask her to dance. Someone, anyone…

‘Would you care to dance, Lady Allerton?’

Beth turned sharply, her grateful acceptance withering on her lips as she looked up into the smiling face of Justin Trevithick. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. She was certain that Justin had seen her trying to avoid Marcus, but she was also aware that she could not refuse to dance with him without seeming dreadfully rude.

‘Oh, Mr Trevithick! I…yes…thank you, sir…’

Beth had met Justin several times in the previous ten days and had taken to him immediately, liking his sense of humour and easygoing manner. Just now, however, she was wishing him at the bottom of the sea. Dancing with Marcus’s cousin was getting too close to Marcus for comfort. She looked round and saw that Marcus was now speaking to a fashionable matron in striped red and white silk. He looked engrossed and suddenly Beth began to feel rather silly. Perhaps Marcus had never intended to approach her at all and all her diversions had served no purpose other than to make her look foolish. Probably she was flattering herself by imagining that he had ever shown any real interest in her.

Justin was waiting, a look of speculative amusement in his eyes. Beth hastily wiped all expression from her face and gave him her hand. She was pleased that she managed to keep up a tolerably bright conversation throughout the polonaise, only faltering slightly when she observed Marcus and the stripily clad matron disappearing through the door together. That was that, then. Evidently Marcus had found company more to his taste and had retired to enjoy it in privacy. Beth felt even more out of countenance at the unedifying jealousy that swept through her.

At the end of the dance, Justin guided her off the floor and into the refreshment room.

‘May I fetch you a glass of lemonade, ma’am?’ he suggested. ‘It may be a tame sort of beverage but is just the thing in a hot climate like this! If you take a seat in this alcove I will undertake to be back directly.’

Beth sank gratefully onto the window seat. It was fresher here with a pleasant draught of air that cooled her heated face. She rested her head against the stone window casing and closed her eyes. The noise of the ball swirled around her but she took no notice.

‘Your lemonade, Lady Allerton.’

Beth jumped so much that she almost banged her head against the stone. The voice was not Justin Trevithick’s, but the deeper tones of his cousin the Earl. Sure enough, Marcus was standing before her, a glass of lemonade in one hand, watching her with the same quizzically amused expression that he had been wearing all evening. Beth felt at a disadvantage and tried to get to her feet, but she found that Marcus was standing too close to her and that any movement would bring her into physical contact with him. This did not seem a very good idea, so she leant back instead and took the lemonade from him with an assumption of ease.

‘Thank you very much. How do you do, Lord Trevithick?’

Marcus gave her his devastating smile. ‘I am all the better now that I have finally caught up with you, Lady Allerton! I thought that I would never achieve it!’

‘I was expecting your cousin’s company—’ Beth began.

‘And did not want to have to tolerate mine instead? I fear I persuaded him to exchange places with me.’ Marcus shrugged lightly. ‘Now that I finally have you to myself, Lady Allerton, I would be obliged if you would keep still for at least a minute! I would like to speak with you!’

Beth shifted guiltily on the window seat. There was little chance of her escaping anywhere since Marcus was now leaning against the alcove embrasure and comprehensively blocking her retreat.

‘In that case you had better sit down,’ she said coolly, ‘and cease looming over me in that threatening manner!’