And she could usually manage a maximum of two minutes’ bright social chatter, before her brain went numb and her pinned-on smile began to hurt.
At this moment she could only think how much she’d rather be at home, curled up with a book and a glass of good wine.
But now she really ought to move, before people thought she’d been actually glued to the spot, and make an attempt to find her unfortunate escort.
Maybe she could plead a sudden migraine and let him off the hook altogether, she thought.
She wasn’t sure when she first became aware that someone was watching her.
Probably wondering if it was just the dress, or whether she’d genuinely been turned into a pillar of salt, she thought, glancing indifferently upwards.
And paused, conscious that her heart had given a sudden, unexpected lurch.
Because this was not the sort of man to give her even a passing look under normal circumstances.
And as their eyes met, some warning antenna began to send out frantic messages, screaming Danger.
He was immaculately dressed in conventional evening clothes, but a bandanna around his unruly mane of curling dark hair and a black patch over one eye would have suited him better.
Although that was utter nonsense, she castigated herself. He was probably a perfectly respectable lawyer or accountant. Certainly no buccaneer could afford the arm and leg tonight’s tickets had cost.
And it was time she stopped goggling like an idiot and beat a dignified retreat.
But, before she could move, he smiled and lifted the glass he was holding in a silent toast.
Cory could feel one of the agonising blushes that were the bane of her life travelling up from her toes.
All she had to do was turn her head and she would find the real recipient of all this attention standing behind her, she thought. Someone blonde and gorgeous, who knew how to wear clothes and probably how to take them off as well. Someone who could make a remark about the weather sound like an explicit sexual invitation.
I’m just in the way, she told herself.
But there was no one standing behind her. There was herself. And he was looking at her, and only her, smiling, as if he was watching. Waiting for her to do something.
Cory felt a sudden drop of sweat slide between her breasts like ice on her heated skin. Was aware of a swift flurry in her breathing.
Because she wanted to go to him. She wanted almost desperately to walk across the ballroom and up those wide marble stairs to where he was standing.
But, even more potently, she wanted him to come to her instead, and the swift, unexpected violence of that need jolted her out of her unwelcome trance and back to reality.
She thought, My God—this is crazy. And, more determinedly, I’ve got to get out of here—now…
She wheeled, and walked swiftly towards the cocktail bar and the errant Philip.
She risked a quick look over her shoulder and realised with mingled alarm and excitement that he was still there, still watching her, and still smiling.
My God, she thought again shakily. Philip might not be very exciting, or even marginally attentive, but at least he doesn’t look like a pirate on his night off.
She looked round the crowded bar and eventually spotted him, sitting at a corner table with a bunch of his cronies, and roaring with laughter.
It was paranoid to think she might be the subject of the joke. Indeed, all the evidence suggested that he’d completely forgotten about her.
So—I’m paranoid, she thought with a small mental shrug. But once bitten…
At the bar, she asked for a white wine spritzer, and was just about to take her first sip when someone touched her shoulder.
She started violently, sending half the contents of her glass sloshing over the hated silver dress, and turned, half in hope, half in dread.
‘Cory?’ It was Shelley Bennet, an old schoolfriend, who now worked full time for the charity. ‘I’ve been looking all over the place for you. I’d begun to think you’d chickened out.’
Cory sighed, mopping at herself with a minute lace hanky. ‘No such luck. Gramps was adamant.’
‘But surely you haven’t come on your own?’ Shelley’s frown was concerned.
‘My partner’s over there, taking a well-deserved break,’ Cory said drily. ‘I may have broken his toe.’ She hesitated. ‘Shelley, when you were in the ballroom just now, did you notice a man?’
‘Dozens,’ Shelley said promptly. ‘They tended to be dancing with women in long frocks. Strange behaviour at a ball, don’t you think?’
‘Well, this one seemed to be on his own. And he didn’t look as if dancing was a major priority.’
Ravishment, maybe, she thought, and looting, with a spot of pillage thrown in.
Shelley’s eyes glinted. ‘You interest me strangely. Where did you see him?’
‘He was up on the balcony.’ Cory gave a slight frown. ‘Usually you know exactly who’s going to be at this kind of occasion, yet he was a total stranger. I’ve never seen him before.’
‘Well, he seems to have made quite an impression,’ Shelley said with affectionate amusement. ‘You look marginally human for a change, my lamb, rather than as if you’d been carved out of stone.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Cory said with dignity.
Shelley’s eyes danced. ‘How much to look down the guest list and supply you with a name, if not a phone number?’
‘It’s not like that,’ Cory protested. ‘It’s just such a novelty to see a new face at these things.’
‘I can’t argue with that.’ Shelley gave her a shrewd look. ‘Was it a nice new face?’
‘No, I can’t say that. Not nice, precisely.’ Cory shook her head. Not ‘nice’ at all. ‘But—interesting.’
‘In that case I shall definitely be reviewing the guest list.’ Shelley slipped an arm through her friend’s. ‘Come on, love. Point him out to me.’
But the tall stranger had vanished. And, but for the empty champagne glass on the balustrade in front of where he’d been standing, Cory would have decided he was simply a figment of her imagination.
‘Snapped up by some predatory woman, I expect,’ Shelley said with a sigh. ‘Unless he took a good look at the evening’s entertainment potential and decided that charity begins at home.’
Actually, he was taking a good look at me, Cory thought, rather forlornly. And probably writing me off as some sad, needy reject.
Aloud, she said briskly, ‘Not a bad idea, either.’
She hailed a lurking waiter, and wrote a brief note of excuse to Philip on his order pad. ‘Would you see that Mr Hamilton gets this, please? He’s at the corner table in the cocktail bar.’
Shelley regarded her darkly. ‘Are you running out on me, too—friend?’
‘’Fraid so,’ Cory told her cheerfully. ‘I’ve put in an appearance, so my duty’s done and Gramps will be mollified.’
‘Until the next time,’ Shelley added drily. She paused. ‘And what about your escort?’
‘He’s done his duty, too.’ Cory smiled reassuringly. ‘And I’d hate to have to fight off a token pass on the way home.’
‘Maybe it wouldn’t be token,’ said Shelley. She was silent for a moment. ‘Love, you aren’t still tied up over that prat Rob, are you?