“Would you care to sit beside me, Miss Martin?” Joseph asked.
But she was looking suddenly prim and severe again, he could see.
“Thank you,” she said, “but there is something I must go and attend to.”
He took a seat beside Lauren and prepared to be entertained. The Countess of Edgecombe was not the only performer, he had learned, though she was certainly the main attraction. He was about to make some remark to Lauren when he became aware that Miss Martin had taken only a few steps away into the center aisle and was now standing rooted to the spot, looking as if she might have seen a ghost. He got hastily to his feet again.
“Miss Martin?” he said. “Do you feel unwell? May I—”
“No,” she said. “Thank you. Iwillsit beside you after all, though, if I may. Thank you.”
And she sat hastily on the empty chair beside his and bowed her head. She clasped her hands in her lap, and he noticed that they were shaking slightly. Now this was strange, he thought, coming from a woman who did not seem to be the vaporish sort. But it was impossible to know what had happened to discompose her, and she offered no explanation.
“Have Miss Wood and Miss Bains been safely delivered to their new employers?” he asked her, hoping to distract her mind from whatever it was that had upset her.
She looked blankly at him for a moment.
“Oh. No,” she said. “Not yet. Mr. Hatchard, my man of business, has been out of town. He returned today, though, and sent word to inform me that I may call upon him tomorrow.”
Some color was returning to her cheeks. She straightened her shoulders.
“And have you been well entertained in the meantime?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” she said without elaborating.
But the concert was about to begin. Whitleaf had moved to the front of the room and was standing on the low dais that had been set up for the performers so that they would be visible to everyone in the ballroom. There were some shushing sounds from the audience and then silence.
The concert began.
Joseph was impressed by the high caliber of the performances. There was a recital by a string quartet, a series of offerings by a young baritone who was engaged to sing in the opera house in Vienna during the autumn, and a pianoforte recital by the lame, dark-haired Countess of Raymore, who was a celebrity in her own right and whom Joseph had heard with enjoyment on other occasions. She also sang a melancholy folk song to her own accompaniment in her lovely contralto voice. And then, of course, there was the Countess of Edgecombe, whose soprano voice was rich and full, though she soon proved that she could hit some incredibly high notes.
He could easily understand what all the fuss was about.
Getting to his feet with the rest of the audience to coax an encore out of her with the volume of their applause after she had finished, Joseph realized that he would have been deprived of one of life’s great aesthetic experiences if he had gone to the soiree instead of coming here. Also, of course, he was interested to see in action the woman who had supplanted Portia Hunt in Edgecombe’s affections. He had set eyes on her before, it was true, but he had not appreciated her exquisite beauty until tonight, when her narrow, expressive face was lit from within and her very dark hair gleamed in the candlelight.
By the time the countess had finished her encore, Miss Martin had her hands clasped very tightly together and was holding them beneath her chin. Her eyes glowed with pride and affection. The teachers at her school really had done rather well for themselves in the matrimonial market, he thought. It must be a very good school indeed to attract such charm and talent onto its staff.
Miss Martin’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears when she turned to look behind her, perhaps to share her joy with Susanna. Joseph turned toward her, intending to invite her to join his family group for the refreshments that were to be served in the supper room.
But she grasped his arm suddenly before he could make the offer and spoke urgently to him.
“There is someone coming this way with whom I donotwish to speak,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. Most of the audience was dispersing in the direction of the supper room. But there was indeed one man making his way against the flow, obviously heading in their direction. Joseph knew him vaguely. He had met him at White’s. The man had arrived recently from Scotland. McLeith—that was the name. He held a Scottish dukedom.
And Miss Martin knew him—but did not wish to speak with him?
This was interesting. Did this have anything to do with her earlier perturbation? he wondered.
He set a hand reassuringly over hers on his arm. It was too late to whisk her out of the man’s way.
5
Claudia had met Viscount Ravensberg and his wife before—attwo weddings, in fact. Anne Jewell had married the viscount’s brother, and Susanna had married the viscountess’s cousin.
It had been something of a relief to see familiar faces, especially as they had recognized her and come to speak with her in the ballroom. Frances and Lucius had gone to the music room to be quiet for a while and prepare for the performance, and Susanna and Peter were busy greeting guests at the ballroom doors. It wasnota comfortable thing to be alone in a crowd, knowing no one and trying to pretend that one was actually enjoying one’s lone state.
She took an instant liking to Viscountess Ravensberg’s aunt and uncle, who were with them, despite their elevated rank. They were courteous, amiable people and made an effort to include her in the conversation. The same could be said of the Earl and Countess of Kilbourne after they had arrived and joined the group. It was not even entirely disagreeable to see the Marquess of Attingsborough again. His was, after all, another familiar face when she had convinced herself that she would know no one at all. Of course, he was looking more gorgeous than ever in evening clothes of dark blue and silver with white linen.
