Regency Surrender: Rebellious Debutantes: Lord Havelock's List / Portrait of a Scandal. ANNIE BURROWS
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She wasn’t the type of girl men did want to sweep off her feet.
Men didn’t tend to notice her. Well, she’d made sure they wouldn’t by developing the habit of shrinking into the background. And by dint of following just a few steps behind her more exuberant cousins, she very soon managed to fade into the background tonight, as well. It was never very hard. Most girls of her age actually wanted people to look at them. Especially men. So there was always someone to hide behind.
Mary found a chair slightly to the rear of her aunt and cousins when they all sat down. By shifting it, only a very little, she managed to make use of a particularly leafy potted plant, as well.
Though she was now shielded from a large percentage of the ballroom, she had a good view of the main door through which other guests were still pouring in, greeting one another with loud voices as they flaunted their evening finery. If she hadn’t already decided to keep out of sight, the wealth on display in this room would have totally overawed her. Dotty and Lotty scanned the crowd with equal avidity, whispering to each other behind their fans about the gowns and jewels of the females, the figures and incomes of the males.
‘Oh, look, it’s Mr Morgan,’ eventually exclaimed Lotty, as a pair of young men entered the ballroom. ‘I really didn’t think he’d be here tonight.’
From that comment, and the fact that she and Dotty immediately sat up straighter, their fans fluttering at a greatly increased tempo, she guessed the man in question was what they termed ‘a catch.’ She could, for once, actually see why. The shorter of the two men was extremely good-looking, in a rugged sort of way, besides being turned out in a kind of casual elegance that made him look far more approachable than others of his age, with their starched shirt points and nipped-in waists.
‘Who is that with him?’
Following slightly behind the handsome newcomer was a taller, rather rangy man with ferocious eyebrows.
‘He must be a friend of his from school, or somewhere,’ whispered Lotty. ‘See the way Mrs Crimmer is smiling at him, giving him her hand and sort of...fluttering?’
Mary joined her cousins in watching the progress round the room of what must be decidedly eligible bachelors, given the way the ladies in every group they approached preened and fluttered for all they were worth.
By the time they reached their corner of the ballroom, Dotty and Lotty were almost beside themselves.
‘Good evening, Mrs Pargetter, Miss Pargetter, Miss Dorothy,’ said the tall, slender man, somewhat to Mary’s confusion. This was the man who’d set her cousins all aflutter?
He must be very wealthy then, because he certainly didn’t have looks on his side. Not like his companion.
‘Allow me to present my friend,’ Mr Morgan added. ‘The Viscount Havelock.’
Dotty’s and Lotty’s heads both swivelled in unison as they tore their eyes from the man they considered the prize catch of the night, to the man they’d just discovered to be a genuine peer of the realm. They both pushed their bosoms out a little further, fluttering their fans and eyelashes at top speed.
The viscount, apparently unimpressed by their ability to do all three things at once, accorded them no more than a curt nod.
Then his gaze slid past them, caught her in the act of biting back a smile and stilled.
‘And who is this?’
‘Oh, well, this is my...well, almost a niece, by marriage,’ said her aunt. ‘Miss Carpenter.’
Mary’s cheeks heated. She really shouldn’t have been mocking the ridiculous way her cousins had been preening just because a titled man was standing within three feet of them. But he didn’t look as though he minded. On the contrary, that bored, slightly irritated look he’d bestowed on them had vanished without trace. If anything, she would swear he looked as though he shared her view that they were being a little silly.
And then he smiled at her with what looked like... Well, if she didn’t know better, as if he’d just found something he’d been looking for.
‘Do you care to dance, Miss Carpenter?’
‘Me?’ Her jaw dropped. She closed her mouth hastily, then shook her head and lowered it.
‘N-no. I couldn’t...’ Lotty and Dotty would be furious with her. And insulted. And rightly so. It was almost a snub, to ask her, in preference to them, after they’d made their interest so blatant.
Could that be the reason he’d asked?
You never could tell, with men. What looked like an act of charity could be performed deliberately to spite someone else, or in order to put someone in their place. She stared doggedly at her shoes, her spirits sinking to just about their level. You couldn’t judge a man by the handsome cast of his features. And she’d been foolish to have been even momentarily deceived by them and that rather...heartening smile.
It was a man’s actions that revealed his true nature.
‘My niece is in mourning, as you can see,’ her aunt was explaining, waving her hand towards Mary’s plain, sober gown.
‘Really?’
She couldn’t help looking up at the tone of the viscount’s voice. It was almost as if he... But, no, he couldn’t be pleased to hear she was in mourning, could he? That was absurd.
And there was nothing in his face, now she was looking at it, to indicate anything but sympathy.
‘Perhaps,’ he said, in a rather kinder tone of voice, ‘you would be my partner for supper, later?’
‘Oh, well, I...’ The look in his eyes made her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth. It was so...intent. As though he wanted to discover every last one of her secrets. As though he would turn her inside out and upside down, until he’d shaken them all from her. As though nothing would stop him.
It made her most uncomfortable. But at the exact same moment Mary decided she would have to somehow refuse his invitation, her aunt accepted it on her behalf. ‘Mary would be honoured. Wouldn’t you, dear?’ She poked her with the end of her furled fan, as if determined to prod the approved response from her.
When she still couldn’t give it, the viscount smiled again, then turned his attention to her cousins.
‘And in the meantime,’ he said, with surprising enthusiasm, ‘would either of you two lovely young ladies show pity on a stranger, by dancing with me?’
Fortunately, before they could elbow one another out of the way in their eagerness to get their hands on him, the tall thin one held out his hand to Charlotte.
Mary sighed with relief as the foursome made their way out on to the dance floor. But her relief was short-lived.
‘I believe you have made a conquest,’ breathed her aunt in rapturous tones as she sidled closer, pushing a palm frond out of the way. ‘Lord Havelock seemed most interested in you.’
‘I cannot think why,’ said Mary. She’d practically hidden herself behind a potted palm, she was wearing a plain gown that did nothing for her pale complexion and she’d turned down his offer of a dance. ‘Perhaps he needs spectacles,’ she wondered aloud. ‘That might account for it.’
‘Nonsense! He can clearly see that you have good breeding. My girls may be prettier than you,’ she said with blunt honesty, ‘but neither of them would know how to go on in his world.’ She nodded towards the viscount, who was leading a glowing Dotty into the bottom set.
‘Well, I don’t suppose I would, either,’ retorted Mary. ‘It’s not as if I’ve ever been a part of it.’
‘No, but your mother was far more genteel than I’ve ever been. And your father, too—I dare say he taught you how a real lady should behave.’
Mary did her best not to react to that statement, though something inside her shrivelled up into a defensive