People were queuing up the stairs inside, chattering and laughing and jostling those who were trying to descend. People who’d clearly had enough and were attempting to leave. For a moment Edmund considered turning around and joining them.
But then he remembered the way he’d found Georgiana cowering in a corner at Lady Havelock’s gathering, gave a deep sigh, surrendered his hat and coat to yet another footman, and joined the end of the queue.
When he was about two-thirds of the way up the staircase, a mature lady attempting to go down gave an exaggerated start and came to a halt.
‘Good heavens! Lord Ashenden?’ Lady Tarbrook clapped her hand to her heavily jewelled bosom. ‘I never expected to see you here, of all people!’
Several responses sprang to mind. All of them rude. On any other occasion he would have selected one and tossed it carelessly at her feet, hoping she would stumble over it. Because she was one of those gossipy, hen-witted matrons with whom conversing was a colossal waste of time. He wouldn’t have cared if he offended her. He didn’t care what females of her type thought of him, or said about him.
But tonight he didn’t have only himself to consider. Georgiana’s position in society was far from assured. She couldn’t afford to offend any one of these tabbies. Therefore, tonight, for her sake, nor could he.
So he confined himself to merely raising one eyebrow, and saying, in what he hoped was a manner sufficiently off-putting to discourage further conversation, yet not cold enough to leave any lingering hostility, ‘Indeed?’
Lady Tarbrook appeared to regard his bland response as an invitation to linger, even though she was preventing the people on the stairs behind her from getting past.
‘Yes, I should have thought you would consider this ball far too frivolous a way to spend an evening,’ she said archly, ignoring the portly gentleman on the step above her who was noisily clearing his throat.
‘You are correct,’ he bit out, realising his error too late. There would now be no escape until he’d furnished her with some sort of explanation. ‘I would not normally waste my time at such an event. However,’ he continued, ‘some people who hail from the environs of Fontenay Court, who have recently come up to Town, are attending. And I thought it would be a neighbourly gesture,’ he said, feeling a muscle at the corner of his eye give a twitch, ‘to take a look in and see how they are faring in the Polite World.’
There, that should send out the message that he approved of the Wickfords. As their life-long neighbour, who was better placed to know what kind of people they were? And what better person to whom to divulge that information than one of the busiest gossips in England?
He gave her a nod of dismissal, and, as the queue surged upwards, climbed the next two stairs.
‘Neighbours, you say?’
To his acute annoyance, tossing her that bone had not satisfied Lady Tarbrook. On the contrary, as she fell into step beside him, her eyes alight with curiosity, he saw that all he’d done was whet her appetite.
‘Anyone I know?’
‘I should not think so.’
‘Oh? I would have thought—that is, since your mother is also here tonight I had assumed they must be here under her aegis, since they are such close neighbours of yours.’
‘She is here?’ Damn.
‘You did not know?’
‘No.’ He’d managed to avoid her since coming up to Town, even though they were both currently residing in Ashenden House. It wasn’t all that difficult. Ashenden House was enormous and their vastly different habits meant that they scarcely even passed each other in any of the corridors.
‘I do not share her tastes,’ he said. He spent most of his time in London amidst the intellectual set, whereas she cared for nothing but ton parties. Moreover, his secretary always warned him if Lady Ashenden intended to dine at home, when the fellow knew Edmund didn’t have a previous engagement, so that he could seek refuge at his club.
‘Well, I am sure she will be vastly pleased to see you here tonight,’ said Lady Tarbrook, with a knowing smile.
Yes, dammit, she would. His mother made no secret of the fact she believed it was past time he was married. As soon as he’d come down from Oxford she’d started introducing him to nobly born females of whom she approved. At previous ton balls, she’d done it in such a way that he never felt he had any choice but to lead the poor chit on to the dance floor. Which was another reason for avoiding events such as this.
Still, forewarned was forearmed.
Though he didn’t think his mother would waste much time before attempting to introduce him to somebody, he suspected. As they reached the landing Lady Tarbrook went scuttling off down the corridor which probably, knowing his mother’s penchant for games of chance, led to the card rooms.
He permitted Lady Twining to gush over him for a moment or two when he reached the head of the receiving line, however. It gave him an opportunity to scan the ballroom beyond.
He soon spotted Mrs Wickford, amidst the other chaperons, sitting out the dance in progress. She was fanning herself briskly, leaning in close to Lady Havelock as though sharing some confidence, and looking mighty pleased with herself.
Sukey was on the dance floor with a well-heeled baronet, whom he knew by reputation.
But he scarcely gave the couple more than a passing glance. Because he’d also seen Georgiana, dancing with Major Gowan. And she was wearing another scandalously low-cut gown. Major Gowan was making no attempt to disguise his hope that the next energetic move might have her bouncing right out of the confines of her stays. His tongue was practically hanging out, his eyes glued so fixedly to Georgiana’s frontage that he was paying no attention to where he was going. And since he was such a large man, it meant that other dancers were obliged to take evasive action.
He stifled the urge to stride across the room and trip the damned rogue up. Though it would give him the greatest pleasure to see the Major stretching his length on the floor, he had no wish to embarrass Georgiana by making her the centre of such a spectacle. There were enough lecherous bucks watching from the sidelines with avid expressions as it was.
Instead, set-faced, he strolled around the perimeter of the room—not looking at the dancers even out of the corner of his eye—and made his bow to Lady Havelock.
‘Oh, Ashe,’ she said, her face lighting up with pleasure. Or relief? She couldn’t possibly be enjoying sitting tête-à-tête with a woman like Mrs Wickford and might well be hoping he’d come to rescue her. ‘Thank you so much for putting me in the way of finding a friend for Julia,’ she said, nodding her head in the direction of Georgiana. ‘She is so much happier now she has someone to talk horses with and to go riding with.’
‘Why, Lord Ashenden,’ put in Mrs Wickford, her eyes widening as Lady Havelock revealed his part in bringing the two girls together, ‘I never dreamed we had you to thank for our good fortune.’
‘No?’ Why on earth did she think Lady Havelock had introduced her husband’s wealthy half-sister to a family with no connections in Town, unless she’d done so as a favour to a friend? Why else did she think Lady Havelock had arranged for invitations to be sent to an event such as this, come to that?
He took out his pocket watch and gave it a cursory glance. Which was a singularly stupid thing to do. There was no way he could estimate how much time he would have before his mother came to the ballroom to find out what he was doing there. It would depend entirely upon the state of play.
He snapped the case shut and replaced the