Chapter
Eight
Could anyone tell by looking at her that she’d just been thoroughly kissed?
Did her face, her burning cheeks give her away? No, no, such a thing must be impossible. No gentleman’s kiss was so powerful that traces of it lingered on a lady’s face after the kiss had ended.
But as she and Cass made their way from the lilac walk back to Lady Farthingale’s terrace with the weight of dozens of gazes upon them it felt as if the kisses she and Cass had just shared were no longer a secret between the two of them.
Her lips felt swollen, sensitive, and with every step they took across the lawn her cheeks burned hotter, until it felt as if flames had engulfed her face.
“You’ve gone scarlet,” Cass murmured to her as they approach the terrace. “I’ve never seen a prettier blush in my life, but there’s no need for it. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Harriet.”
Ashamed? No, perhaps not that. She could never be ashamed of kissing Cass, but they were the last couple to emerge from the lilac walk, and if she could judge by the dismay on Margaret’s face, not by an insignificant amount of time.
Oh, dear God. What had she done?—
“Here you are, my dear.” Lady Fosberry held out her hand to Hattie as she and Cass mounted the stairs and joined their party on the terrace. Her ladyship’s smile was as calm as ever, but her knowing gaze lingered on Hattie’s face, and Lord Hayward seemed to be scrutinizing her with more attention than usual, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he glanced between her and Cass.
“I was just telling your sisters that Lady Dumfries has graciously invited us to attend her ball next week. It’s one of the most anticipated events of the season, and quite grand, indeed. I think we should?—”
“Windham! Yoo-hoo, Lord Windham!” A lady was bearing down on them, and she wore a rather frightening look on her face, as if she were attempting to smile, but her lips were refusing every expression but a grimace. “My goodness, my lord, we’ve been searching for you everywhere. Where did you wander off to for such an age?”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Tremblay.” Cass offered the ladies a polite bow, but no explanation of his whereabouts, and an awkward silence settled over the group.
Lady Tremblay wasn’t a large personage, but she was so puffed up with prickly self-importance she put Hattie in mind of a porcupine on the verge of releasing its quills.
“No matter, Windham.” A dark-haired young lady followed on Lady Tremblay’s heels. “Lord Egerton was kind enough to escort me through the lilac walk.”
She strolled up the steps onto the terrace on Lord Egerton’s arm as if she were a queen ascending her throne. She was the same lady Cass had been waiting on yesterday in Berkeley Square.
Lady Laetitia, presumably.
Her chilly blue gaze swept over the party before landing on Hattie. “Will you not introduce us to your friends, Windham?”
Cass looked as if he’d rather swallow his own tongue than make the introductions, but he offered Lady Laetitia the same courtly bow he’d given her mother. “Lady Tremblay and Lady Laetitia, may I present Lady Margaret, Lady Harriet and Lady Sarah Parrish.”
“Lord Melrose’s sisters, I believe? How lovely.” Lady Tremblay gave them a brief but poisonous smile that belied her words before turning her attention to Lady Fosberry. “Did I not just hear you say, Patience, that you plan to attend Lady Dumfries’s ball next week?”
Lady Fosberry had never been one to be intimidated by theton, and she wasn’t intimidated now. “No, indeed. I’m afraid you misheard, Josephine, but then that’s what comes of eavesdropping.” She offered Lady Tremblay a poisonous smile of her own. “I was merely telling my young friends Lady Dumfries invited us, nothing more.”
“How tremendously kind of Lady Dumfries. But haven’t you only just returned to Town? I daresay your friends haven’t yet acquired the proper clothing.” Lady Tremblay made a great show of looking Hattie up and down. “Such a pity, as it means you can’t attend.”
A flush rose in Cass’s cheeks. “That’s absurd. I don’t see why?—”
“It’s quite all right, Lord Windham. Dear Lady Tremblay is only looking out for us, isn’t that right, Josephine?” Lady Fosberry turned her iciest smile on Lady Tremblay, her teeth gleaming. “I do so appreciate your concern, my lady, but you needn’t worry yourself. My friends have everything they need.”
“Why, my dearest Patience, of course, they do, but as you said yourself, Lady Dumfries’s ball is quite grand, and it’s only a week away. Alas, there’s no time to have any gowns made up.”
“Gowns?” Lord Hayward stared at her, baffled. “I daresay these young ladies have brought plenty of gowns from Kent that will do for the ball.”
“Kent!” Lady Tremblay laughed. “My dear Lord Hayward, don’t be absurd! These young ladies are Lord Melrose’s sisters! I’m certain they’d never dream of appearing at atonball in their provincial fashions, as it won’t reflect well on their brother. Patience, I know you’re much too kind to wish to see your little friends humiliated.”
Lady Tremblay was obliged to make a great effort to hide her delight at that prospect. As for Lady Laetitia, she said nothing, but the slight sneer on her lips gave her away more quickly than any words could.
“Nonsense,” Lord Hayward said shortly. “You must come. In fact, will you do me the honor of dancing the first dance with me, Lady Sarah?”
“How kind you are, my lord.” Sarah bit her lip, her glance straying toward Margaret.
