Chapter Six

      ‘What a reception,’ Nicholas murmured appreciatively as they surveyed the Assembly Room and the Assembly Room surveyed them. ‘Reminds me of the time we stumbled into a secret meeting of Thuggees, except that this is perhaps marginally more terrifying. Are you quite certain you didn’t do anything other than try to elope with one of their fair virgins ten years ago? No buried bodies? Alchemy? Necromancy?’

      Adam shot him a sardonic look. The ballroom was a slightly smaller copy of the room at the Ship in Brighton. It stood some seventy feet long and was lit by four massive glass chandeliers balancing hundreds of candles. Ten years ago Adam had thought it the epitome of splendour. After years of attending the most sophisticated ballrooms around the world he thought it still held a certain charm and certainly took itself very seriously. He knew Nicholas would milk this for all it was worth.

      ‘Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?’

      ‘Of course. Who is that alarming dowager holding court in the corner? She either has a squint or she is giving you the evil eye.’

      Adam turned in the direction of Nicholas’s nod.

      ‘Lady Nesbit. Alarming is right. She is Rowena’s grandmother and the undisputed leader of Mowbray society and the Pump Rooms. I used to think she was the driving force behind the snaring of Lord Moresby, but then I realised it was a joint effort with Rowena.’

      ‘Ah, I surmise that is the beauty next to her, then. My, she is a delectable piece, matron or not. And I see what you mean—she looks very used to leading the dance. Ah, she’s spotted you, man,’ Nicholas whispered. ‘She’s heading straight towards us!’

      Adam frowned. He didn’t really want to deal with Rowena now. He had other fish to fry.

      ‘Lord Delacort. How nice you could come.’

      There was such a wealth of innuendo in Rowena’s proper greeting that Adam smiled grudgingly. He bowed.

      ‘Lady Moresby. May I introduce Mr Nicholas Beauvoir? Nicholas, this is Lady Moresby.’

      ‘An old friend of Adam’s,’ she clarified, extending her hand. Nicholas bent over her hand formally, his mouth clearly held firmly against a threatening grin.

      ‘What a coincidence. So am I,’ he replied. ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

      Her whole being seemed to convey her conviction that it was indeed a pleasure to make her acquaintance.

      ‘Are you going to invite me to dance?’ she asked Adam archly as the first notes of a cotillion strained to be heard above the murmur of voices that had increased in intensity as Rowena had intercepted Adam and Nicholas.

      But Adam was watching a new couple entering the ballroom. Mr Figgs, the Master of the Pump Rooms, was short and round, with an amiable smile and an impressive head of springy white hair. He was walking proudly beside a woman whose entrance was causing quite as much of a sensation as Rowena’s audacious waylaying of Adam. The new arrival glanced around the room insouciantly, and when her eyes skimmed past Adam and Nicholas, the hint of a smile played about her generous mouth, but her eyes did not linger.

      ‘I don’t think that is a good idea, Rowena,’ Adam said casually. ‘It was nice to see you again, though.’ He smiled down at her, bowed and moved on. The buzzing around them increased.

      Adam found a good vantage point midway through the Assembly Room and he and Nicholas stopped to watch. Ginnie was easy to spot in her dramatic red gown and the diamonds he had provided shimmered as much as the extravagant chandeliers above them. Mr Figgs had introduced her to a serious-looking man Adam vaguely remembered as one of the landowners out by Cumnor. The man looked surprised but not displeased to find himself leading such a dazzling stranger on to the dance floor.

      Nicholas glanced over at Adam.

      ‘You’ve set the fox amongst the hens now, man,’ he said, shaking his head ruefully, and Adam smiled but didn’t answer.

      ‘Here, isn’t that your pretty tree-climber? What was her name again?’ Nicholas indicated another dancing couple that had come into view and Adam turned.

      ‘Miss Drake.’

      ‘She is a pretty thing. And the best dancer here. Introduce me later, will you? I wouldn’t mind seeing those eyes up close.’

      ‘Don’t be a fool, Nick. I told you she’s not flirtation material. She’s as proper as they come.’

      ‘Devil a bit. That just ups the stakes. Where’s Percy?’

      ‘What? Oh. Over to the right, talking with Mr Figgs.’

      ‘Well, he hasn’t changed much. Still the dandy. Now he’s giving you the evil eye.’

      ‘He’s furious with me for closing the Delacort purse. He seems to think that as my heir he is entitled to an allowance beyond his own income. I disabused him of that notion.’

      ‘A kind of advance on your demise? How touching of him. I suppose it must have been a disappointment that you survived. There is a certain irony to that—the last two Lord Delacorts succumb to the most mundane of illnesses and accidents and you endure environments which should by all rights have shaken you free of your mortal coils.’

      Adam grinned. ‘That’s the second time you’ve abused Shakespeare in the past few days. Have you been brushing up on your reading behind my back?’

      ‘Not much else to do while you’re out repairing your predecessors’ damage to the estate. Now that we are making a foray into society I might find something or someone else to occupy me. Wait, look, Percy is on the move and has Mr Figgs in tow. This is almost too easy.’

      They watched as the two men moved down the side of the hall, intercepting Ginnie and her dance partner as they stepped off the dance floor. Mr Figgs made the introductions, Percy bowed, smiled angelically and led Ginnie on to the floor to join the set forming