There, as she turned away from her partner in the movement of the dance, had not the mask slipped a little? And now — was that a faint tremble in her lip?
Watching her still, he saw her eyes close wearily in a long blink. He could swear it was a wisp of a sigh she snatched then. It was as if the cracked veneer was breaking up, as if he could see beyond it, into the vulnerability that kept her so resolutely aloof. Chaste stars, but he could no longer endure this. She would not keep him at bay. What, was he a monster to frighten her? He wanted only to help her, if he could; to brush away the trouble that haunted her. Oh, he had seen it — on that now far-off day when they met on the common one early winter morning.
By the veriest good fortune, the next person to attach Verena for a dance was Osmond himself. Naturally she had no quarrel with Osmond. He had been admitted to the ranks of her friends. Not that she had been very much in evidence at the Ruishton house since Denzell’s arrival. Oh no. All of a sudden, these “everyday” visits to Unice had ceased. He did not have far to seek for the reason. But she would not fob him off this time.
Moving with purpose, he contrived to intercept his friend as the couple were threading through the pockets of the talkative assembly towards the dancing arena.
“My dance, I think, Ossie.” Without waiting for a reply, he seized Verena’s hand, mittened in gold net to match her over-gown.
“Hey!” cried Osmond.
“Hey to you!” retorted Denzell, and was on the move, regardless of the effect on Verena.
She was too taken aback for a moment to resist, let alone find anything to say. Besides, the warmth of his hand about hers was rendering her breathless. He had caught her so much off guard, for in Osmond’s presence she was now apt to be a trifle more relaxed, that she had been unready for such a determined assault.
Before she had time to recover, she found herself taking up a position in one of the sets then forming. Denzell released her hand as he took his place, and turned to face her, smiling disarmingly.
“Will you forgive me for this piracy? I doubt Ossie will not.”
“I do not think — I mean —”
Verena willed herself to continue, but the effort to control the quivering in her lips was too great. Where was her strength? Thank the lord Mama had elected not to come tonight. For all the work of these few days would be gone in a moment. She had hoped — in vain? — her conduct had convinced him that she did not wish to pursue their acquaintance. She did not indeed. She did not wish even to speak to him, let alone dance with him,
“You don’t wish to dance, do you?” he said, as if he had read her mind.
The next instant, just as the music started, he whisked her out of the set, and out of the dancing arena altogether. But not back towards the colourful throng moving below the arena. Insteadshe found herself passing out of the flare from the burning torches, and into the shadows beyond, where the darkness of the Grove beckoned.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Where we may be a little private.”
“But —”
“Miss Chaceley, trust me!”
A few steps more and he stopped, right on the edge of the Grove, where sight and sound of the gaiety on the green was muted, and yet within a few feet of the laughing enjoyment of the crowds therein.
Denzell did not release his hold on her elbow, which he had used to steer her through, so silently, so rapidly that he doubted whether anyone had observed them depart. Besides, he was ready to wager theirs was not the first such secret departure. This type of entertainment lent itself to stolen meetings such as this. But for himself, there was no amorous intent.
“This is better,” he said, as he turned to look down into her face, visible quite in the still fading daylight, but sufficiently hidden for the mask to have been dropped. And it was gone! There was a world of confusion in her face. Confusion, and — by George, he had been right — fear.
“Verena,” he uttered urgently, “don’t look at me so. Why are you afraid of me? God knows I intend you no harm.”
Verena’s heart sank. Yes, she did fear him — his effect on her. How had he divined so much? She must not allow him to believe it, for that would weaken her position. Desperately, she fought to regain her control. But that was very difficult when his very touch was causing waves of trembling heat to invade her breast. She shifted away, pulling her elbow out of his grasp.
“Don’t run away,” he uttered at once. “I must talk to you. If you will not allow me to do so in public, then grant me this one opportunity, I beg of you.”
“I h-have no intention of r-running away,” she said on a snap, annoyed with herself for the tremor in her voice. “And I am not afraid of you!”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” he accused. “Don’t try to pretend that you have not been doing so.”
The mask snapped back into place. “Really, Mr Hawkeridge, I don’t know what you mean.”
The coolness of her tone stung him. “Ah, so you are armed again, are you? Well done, Miss Chaceley.”
His sarcasm distressed her, but it toughened her, too. With even more blandness, she said, “I am quite at a loss, sir.”
“I am referring,” he said bitingly, “to this alien creature, who is not you, Miss Verena Chaceley, yet who persists in coming between us.”
