Beth hadn’t mentioned him recently and Amber had not liked to ask, afraid her enquiries would give her away. Diana and Bryan Guinness were here at the ball in a group that included Diana’s brother, Tom Mitford, Jim Lees-Milne, Oswald Mosley and his wife, and the novelist Evelyn Waugh, all of whom Amber recognised, having either been introduced to them or had them pointed out to her on previous occasions.
Amber saw them whilst she was dancing with Henry, and trying not to feel uncomfortable about the way he was looking at her so intensely, without saying a word. They were all crowding around Oswald Mosley, a very good-looking man in the mode of Rudolph Valentino, who all the popular papers were lionising because of his decision to resign from Ramsay MacDonald’s government over the rejection of what was being termed the Mosley Memorandum: a document that set out plans for large-scale public work programmes to provide jobs and an income for the poor and out of work. Personally Amber thought that anything that relieved the dreadful situation whereby men were unable to find work to support their families should be praised and put in force as soon as possible. Not that she knew very much about politics, of course.
They were almost level with the group when Diana, who was standing next to Mosley, suddenly screamed, and then laughed, shaking her head as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, you beast, Mosley,’ before turning to her husband and telling him, ‘He has just dropped something icy cold down my back, Bryan.’
‘Oh, no, poor you,’ the pretty brunette clinging to Tom Mitford’s arm protested, whilst Oswald Mosley opened his fist to reveal some of the small pink puffballs that had decorated the supper tables.
‘It was only one of these, iced with champagne,’ he was drawling, obviously enjoying the tease. ‘You were so deliciously hotly defensive of my Memorandum, Diana, that I felt it my duty to cool you down before you burned poor Ramsay’s reputation to cinders.’
The dance had come to an end, and Amber was rather relieved to be able to wriggle free of Henry’s tight grip.
‘You must go and find your next partner,’ she reminded him gently when he showed no sign of moving from her side.
His blurted, ‘I’d much rather dance with you,’ made Amber feel freshly uncomfortable.
And when a familiar voice drawled, ‘Ah, but Miss Vrontsky is engaged to dance this dance with me, I’m afraid, Henry old chap,’ she was too relieved to feel self-conscious when she turned to look up at Lord Robert.
‘I take it that you were not wanting to dance with him again?’ he asked once Henry was out of earshot.
‘Not really,’ Amber admitted, ‘but you need not stay and dance with me if there is …’ She stopped, floundering uncomfortably.
‘I want to dance with you very much.’
Now she was blushing, Amber realised in vexation.
‘But I think we should stroll instead,’ Lord Robert suggested, offering her his arm. ‘We can talk more easily that way.’
Lord Robert obviously knew the house well, Amber realised, because he soon found a small anteroom to the ballroom, its doors open to a balcony just wide enough for two people to stand and enjoy the evening air.
‘I’m sorry I was so silly about … about things,’ Amber told him.
‘You weren’t silly. In fact, I doubt you could ever be silly, Amber.’ When she looked at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty, he told her, ‘I should not have behaved in the way that I did. Some things should remain private. Not seen and not heard.’
‘I dare say that it isn’t always easy not to betray one’s feelings, when they are very strong.’ Now Amber was looking out into the darkness, unable to bring herself to look directly at Lord Robert.
‘You are as compassionate as you are kind. I loved foolishly and I paid the price for it.’
His words made Amber feel intensely sad for him.
‘I used to think that loving someone meant that person would be happy like my parents were happy, but love isn’t always like that, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t. Love can be many things, some of them damnably painful. I hope that when you find love it will be the kind of love your parents shared.’ He paused and then said abruptly, ‘I have missed you and our outings together.’
‘Have you?’ Now Amber turned to look at him. ‘I have missed you too. I thought you must be cross with me because—’
‘No. If I was cross with anyone it was myself.’
He reached for her hand and held it gently. ‘Shall we be friends again?’
‘Oh, yes.’
They looked at one another, and smiled.
‘Cecil will be pleased. He considers that you have great promise, you know, and would, I think, like to see you as another Syrie Maugham.’
Amber’s eyes widened at the compliment. Syrie Maugham, the former wife of the famous playwright, was currently the most fashionable interior decorator.
‘My grandmother would never allow me to set up in business,’ she told Robert sadly.
‘No, I dare say not, but your husband might if you choose him carefully, and he is rich enough,’ he told her.
Amber laughed. ‘So now I must find a titled husband to please my grandmother and a rich one to please Cecil.’
Robert looked at her. ‘I hope you will find a way to follow your own heart, Amber, for if anyone deserves to it is you.’
His kindness brought Amber near to tears, and as though he sensed how close she was to being overwhelmed by her emotions, Lord Robert said teasingly, ‘We’d better get back to the ballroom before Henry sends out a search party and you are accused of attempting to sully my reputation by enticing me out onto this balcony.’
Amber laughed again. She was so pleased that they were friends once more, but even better, she had realised standing on the balcony with him that he was now just dear Robert, her friend, and nothing more. Her former feelings had disappeared and she recognised them for what they were: her first proper infatuation. Who could blame her when he was so handsome and so exciting? But she knew that when true love finally showed its face, she’d know it in a heartbeat.
In less than a week they would be leaving for the South of France, and the Belgrave Square mansion was busy with preparation.
‘Now, my dears,’ the countess informed Beth and Amber, ‘whilst the little ones will be going straight to Juan-les-Pins with Nanny and the servants, the three of us will be staying in Paris for a short time before joining them. You will both need clothes suitable for the South of France and these, of course, are best bought in Paris.’
Paris! Amber and Beth exchanged thrilled looks.
‘Oh, Amber, I am just so excited,’ Beth burst out after her mother had been called away to take an urgent telephone call. ‘It’s going to be such fun. We shall need new tennis dresses, and swimming togs. Oh, and I do hope that Mummy will let us have some of those new pyjama suits that Vogue says everyone is wearing.’
Amber was still thinking about the excitement of going to the South of France half an hour later as she went up the steps to the front door of Lady Rutland’s house in Cadogan Place. Louise and Lady Rutland were, she knew, out visiting an elderly cousin of Lady Rutland’s who lived in Richmond.
‘There’s a visitor to see you, miss,’ the butler told her as he let her in. ‘A Mr Fulshawe. He said to tell you that he’s here on your grandmother’s