“Good question,” quipped someone audibly.
Over several barely subdued sniggers, Rossiter said, “Very fit, thank you, ma’am. And proud to accept your hospitality.”
They were through the line then. He started to extend his arm, but paused, noting the eager gallants who were already converging upon them. “You would doubtless prefer me to leave you to your—admirers, my lady.”
Naomi managed a laugh, and rapped him lightly with her fan. “Do you imply you are not among ’em?” she said coquettishly. “Fie upon you, sir! Have you no chivalry?”
“’Course he ain’t, delightful damsel,” simpered a tall young exquisite, shouldering Rossiter aside, then recoiling sharply. “The devil!” he exclaimed, indignant.
“Not in front of the lady,” admonished Rossiter, with a reproving shake of the head. “And you should take care where you put your feet, sir.”
“He is very right y’know, m’dear Farrington,” smirked Reginald Smythe, contriving to seize and kiss Naomi’s hand. “Did he step on your toe, poor fella? You shall have to wash your shoe. Or burn it,” he added,sotto voce,drawing a laugh from the gentlemen closing in around Naomi.
“No, but you are naughty, Reggie,” she trilled, giving his hand a playful pat.
He raised his quizzing glass and peered down at her feet. “And I suspect you also have been naughty, adored one,” he responded.
Naomi’s heart gave a jolt and she knew she had turned pale. She reached out to Mr. Harrier. “Alfred!” she said, her voice unwontedly shrill. “How well you look in that luscious plum.”
“And you are simply divine, light of my life,” lisped the dandy, saluting her fingertips.
From the corner of her eye she saw Rossiter being edged from her proximity. And they all managed so well to quite ignore him. He staggered slightly as Lord Sommers pushed past. She could only pray that if he did succumb to his potations ’twould be when she was on the other side of the ballroom.
Rossiter watched the crowd gathering about her. Gradually, deliberately, she was swept away from him. He smiled grimly, and glancing to the right encountered a battery of stony stares. Assured that the view to his left would be much the same, he sauntered towards the ballroom. The crowd broke away as he approached. He felt his face grow hot as backs were turned, and he was given a wide berth.
A dowager with a very elaborate wig put up her fan and from behind it asked audibly, “Am I acquaint with that most dashing young captain?”
The stocky gentleman beside her glanced at Rossiter and said something in a low-pitched, aghast tone.
“Oh, Lud!” exclaimed the lady. “I suppose young Horatio invited the creature! ’Pon my soul, but poor Bowers-Malden has his trials with that scatter-wit heir of his!”
There was some smothered laughter. A muscle rippled in Rossiter’s jaw, and he walked on, his head held high and proud. It was, he thought, going to be a long evening.
***
The quadrille ended at half past eleven, and Naomi’s cheeks were tired. She’d never dreamed how difficult it was to be obliged to smile constantly, and decided that the moment she left this wretched ball she would scowl for three days. Rudolph Bracksby was among the group of beaux who greeted her return from the dance floor. The quiet gentleman’s pleasant face was a welcome sight, and she was glad to grant his request to take her down to supper. There were cries of outrage at this infamy, and her admirers begged her to reconsider. At last, however, Mr. Bracksby was able to lead his lady down the stairs and conduct her to a little table against the wall. Leaning back in the chair with a stifled sigh of relief, Naomi saw Mrs. Golightly seated with a group of her cronies, among whom Sir Gilbert Fowles, all teeth and guffaw, was holding forth. With an inward moan, Naomi put up her fan and tried to be invisible. A moment later, she knew she had failed.
“Here you are, my love! I declare I feared I’d never have a word with you!” Samantha Golightly surged into the vacant chair. A tall young woman, whose large white teeth and neighing voice inspired the uncharitable to designate her “horsy,” she moved with a bouncy gait that did little to dispel the illusion. Her only claims to prettiness were manifested by a pair of snapping black eyes, and a splendid bosom. She wore an extremely décolleté pink satin gown, which concealed very little of her principal attribute, and several gentlemen watched hopefully as she leaned forward, regarding Naomi with a triumphant grin.
“Good evening,dearSamantha.” Naomi put on her smile once more. “Is it not a delightful party? Bowers-Malden has outdone himself. As usual.”
“Oh, indeed, indeed. Which is in despite Tio, of course. That rascal! How could he upset his papa’s guests by inviting Gideon Rossiter? To say nothing of putting you in so unenviable a situation. Everyone feels sosorryfor you, my poor sweet. ’Tis cruel,cruelthat you should be obliged to endure the escort of such a notorious creature. And especially after your own unfortunate—ah, relationship with him was—”
“Good evening, Mrs. Golightly.” Bracksby set a plate of delicacies and a glass of iced punch before Naomi. “How kind in you to entertain my lady whilst I was gathering these tidbits.” He retrieved his own plate and glass from a hovering waiter, then stood looking rather helplessly at the small table. “Oh—pray do not get up, ma’am,” he added in his gentle voice.
Mrs. Golightly, who had shown no sign of getting up, rose at once. “Dear Mr. Bracksby. You must keep this poor child entertained, for truly she has much to bear. Never fear, Naomi. We none of us believe the nonsense about your slippers. I fancy you are wearing them tonight, in fact. No?”
“Slippers…?” echoed Naomi, staring at her with a commendably blank expression.
“Why, yes. You surely have heard that a lady’s jewelled slipper fell from a bed—” She giggled, and fluttered her eyelashes with appalling coyness. “Well, from one of theupperrooms at the Dowling Soiree. And that everyone—buteveryone—is casting bets on the identity of the naughty girl. Never fear, I have assured several people, dear Naomi, that although you wore jewelled slippers that evening, yours is not the one was lost.”
“Good gracious,” said Naomi. “An I had dreamed such petty gossip was abroad, I should have worn those same shoes, if only to disappoint the gabblemongers.”
Mrs. Golightly blinked, but she was not one to shy from a shadow, and said in a confiding whisper, “A very wise notion, my love. Slip away and change them. That will teach everyone a lesson!”
“Such a friend you are, dearest,” purred Naomi. “And what a pleasant selection you have made, Mr. Bracksby. I feel sure Mrs. Golightly will wish you to sit down. ’Twas lovely chatting with you, Samantha.”
His lips twitching, Mr. Bracksby seated himself. Mrs. Golightly took herself off looking triumphant, and Naomi muttered, “Cat!”
