“I would not dream of imposing so on your good nature, sir,” she’d protested. “It is merely a prosaic errand to buy some ribbons for my mother.”
He had brushed aside her objection and offered his arm, declaring himself a dab hand at matching colours. Diverted by his nonsense, she’d meekly allowed herself to be steered into a shop where he proceeded to demonstrate the truth of his boastful claims to her increasing amusement and wonder.
Confronted by merchandise in a vast rainbow of hues, Lord Hastings had pointed to one sample. “What colour would you call this?”
“Brown, of course.”
“Ah, but not just any brown — this is Skeffington brown, made famous by Sir Lumley Skeffington, while this one with the reddish tinge is known as Devonshire brown. And this colour?”
“Sort of pinky-purple,” she’d replied.
“Amaranthus, to be precise. And this?”
“Orange, dark orange.”
“It is called capucine.”
She’d eyed his too-innocent countenance with dawning respect. “I am humbled — nay, confounded — by this display of esoteric knowledge. To what do you owe your proficiency?’
“I have a mother,” he’d announced with a grand air, “and a peculiar memory for trivia.”
By the time Lord Hastings had escorted Laura and the faithful Sukie to the Albright door the simple errand had consumed more than an hour. They had dawdled in the shop and strolled an eccentric route back to Mount Street. Their conversation hadbeen wide-ranging and inconsequential for the most part, but it had created an aura of mental attunement on some wordless level that was uniquely pleasurable to Laura.
Lord Hastings really was a most companionable person, she decided as she gave him her hand for her maiden dance at Almack’s. His breezy manner when leading her on to the floor helped subdue the qualms any young lady might be excused for harbouring on the occasion of demonstrating her terpsichorean prowess for the first time in public. Still, her fingers, as the pair joined a set that was forming, clutched rather than rested on his sleeve, and as they launched into the first movements of the country dance, he was obliged to repeat his opening remarks before her eyes looked on him with comprehension, and the fixed smile on her lips softened.
“I beg your pardon, sir; I was concentrating so fiercely on the steps that I did not even hear what you said.”
“I merely remarked that this place is so crowded already that the temperature will be tropical within the hour,” he replied, regarding her curiously. “Is this your first ball, then? Did you not attend the local assemblies in Hertfordshire?”
“No, never. My father was of a reclusive disposition. We neither entertained nor participated in local society.”
Lord Hastings looked as if he meant to pursue the subject, but sustained conversation was well nigh impossible during a country dance, so he contented himself with short phrases of encouragement and praise when the movements brought them together for a few seconds, supplemented by discreet miming motions indicating which way she was to turn on a couple of instances when she hesitated. Almost as if she were a child coerced into performing before guests, Laura thought, amused but touched also by the generosity of nature that was his most endearing quality.
“No one would have guessed this was your first time on the dance floor,” he said, beaming a proud smile at her as they headed back to where Mrs. Marsh sat with Mrs. Chandler.
Buoyed by her success and spurred by a rush of elation, Laura giggled. “Thank you, Papa,” she said, casting him a look of demure mischief.
“You are mistaken, my dear Laura,” he pointed out, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. “I never feel fatherly in the company of a beautiful woman.”
“Do not talk nonsense. I have already acquainted you with my disdain for flirting,” she said severely, electing not to acknowledge his greater presumption in appropriating the use of her given name.
“I was not flirting.”
Sensing the hurt behind his grumble, Laura sent a sideways look at his unsmiling profile, relieved on the whole to be too close to the spot where her mother sat to be able to speak as he bowed, thanked her and took himself off to meet Sophia, who was returning with her father.
Laura danced next with her uncle, who did his duty by her with an economy of movement while he expressed curiosity about Lord Hastings, whom he’d met for the first time when they arrived — a curiosity she took pleasure in deflecting with vague replies. She was thankful to have acquitted herself creditably when the dance was over at last.
Next on her card was the irrepressible Mr. Castle, who kept her in a ripple of slightly scandalised merriment with his disrespectful comments on the quality of the entertainment to be expected under Almack’s hallowed roof. Nothing escaped his scathing review, from the strict rules governing dress and manners to the dullness of the company and the niggardly nature of the refreshments served.
“Why are you here tonight, if you find Almack’s so tame?” she asked with real curiosity as the dance ended.
“Jack dragged me here to make sure you and Miss Albright had friends to support you, though anyone but a gudgeon would have seen from the start that the pair of you were going to have hopeful partners queuing up outside the doors.”
She smiled at the exasperation in his voice and tilted her head to the side as she asked, “Do you always do whatever Lord Hastings asks of you?”
“Certainly not,” he replied, revolted at the suggestion — then, catching her eye, grinned sheepishly. “Jack and I have been friends since Eton. He’s pulled my mutton out of the fire more times than I can count — and got me into trouble almost as often,” he added, pulling in the corners of his mouth. “He’s not called ‘Hasty Jack’ for nothing — always ripe for a lark or up for a challenge, no matter how stupid. That was in our school days, of course,” he explained quickly, bringing his indiscreet reminiscences to an abrupt end.
“I see. So you are both sober, responsible citizens now?” Laura’s dulcet question went unanswered except by a lifted brow before she was claimed by her next partner, a gentleman who had been at Lady Bentley’s card party.
