Desire For Revenge. PENNY JORDAN
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her fan, looking demurely at her sister over the top of it. ‘Merci, My Lady,’ she cooed dulcetly. ‘You are too kind.’
Jane raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Okay, you can cut that out,’ she instructed. ‘Heavens, I’d better fly and get ready myself. I just came in to tell you that Mrs Arbuckle has arrived. Ralph is ready and downstairs entertaining her.’
‘I’ll come and give you a hand with your dress then, shall I?’ Sarah offered.
Her sister’s dress was a rich cobalt blue with gold embroidery, but slightly plainer than her own, and since her own hair was short, Jane had elected to wear with her outfit a period wig which she had also hired from the stage company.
Ralph’s stare of amazement when they both went downstairs proved just how much their costumes transformed them. Mrs Arbuckle told them half enviously that they looked wonderful and although Ralph complained that the wig he was wearing was making him itch, Sarah suspected that her brother-in-law was enjoying the opportunity to dress up as much as they were themselves.
Because of the volume of the women’s dresses Ralph had decided that they might as well push the boat out in style and had organised a chauffeur-driven limousine to take them to the ball.
‘Much better than a coach and four,’ Jane exclaimed appreciatively as she sank down into the comfortable leather seat. ‘What do you think, Sarah?’
Sarah agreed that Ralph had shown good sense because between the two of them they took up the entire length of the huge back seat leaving Ralph to sit in front with the driver.
Their destination, the Georgian house where the ball was being held, was only on the other side of the village—a fifteen-minute drive at most.
For the occasion the driveway was illuminated with Japanese flares in soft pastel colours, the front of the house ablaze with lights. Several other cars were disgorging their passengers when they drew up, most of them garbed in Georgian costume.
A liveried flunkey standing by the main door requested their tickets and then ushered them inside, where another liveried attendant indicated the direction of the cloakrooms.
‘The ballroom’s on the second floor,’ Jane hissed to her sister as they followed several other women in the direction of the ladies’ cloakroom.
Having checked that her wig wasn’t in any danger of disgracing her, Jane suggested that they go upstairs.
Outside the doors to the ballroom Ralph was waiting for them, talking to another couple. His male companion was rather portly, and looked flushed beneath his heavy wig. He greeted Jane with a brief kiss on the cheek as did the woman with him.
‘And this is Sarah, my sister-in-law,’ Ralph introduced her. ‘Tom and Veronica Merryweather… Veronica was partially responsible for organising this affair tonight.’
Veronica Merryweather was small and plump, wearing a gown that displayed her pretty shoulders. Sarah guessed shrewdly that the collar of diamonds she was wearing round her throat was genuine, and she also suspected from the slight tension she could feel emanating from her sister that Jane was a little on edge in her presence.
‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to desert you,’ Veronica Merryweather apologised with a smile. ‘I’m on the committee organising the ball…and I’m supposed to be on duty downstairs greeting the new arrivals.’
‘See you in the bar later, eh, Ralph,’ her husband suggested, clapping Ralph genially on the back, as he turned to follow his wife.
The ballroom was easily large enough to hold the five hundred guests invited, and off it were three other reception rooms which had been converted into supper rooms for the purpose of the ball, Jane explained to her sister, breaking off her commentary to exclaim, ‘Good heavens…look over there…isn’t that Lady Fentham? Over there in the puce satin trimmed with some sort of fur. No, there, Sarah.’ She tugged her sister’s arm pointing her in the direction she wished her to look, and all of a sudden Sarah froze. She could see the woman Jane was talking about—but she wasn’t the one who held her interest. Just behind her, but clearly discernible to Sarah, was the man she had seen in the town square that afternoon. It was true that now he was wearing a powdered queue of hair, but there was no mistaking that distinctly masculine profile, nor the intense blue of those sapphire eyes. He turned his head and for a moment it seemed as though he were looking directly at her. For the first time in her life Sarah knew what it meant when someone said their heart missed a beat. Hers seemed to stop completely, the world tilting slowly and then equally slowly righting itself again. She could feel the colour crawling up under her skin, mirroring the intense heat building up inside her. She felt both light-headed enough to float and at the same time almost unable to make any movement that might disengage her attention from the man she was watching.
‘Sarah, come back…’
Reluctantly she looked away and met her sister’s exasperated eyes.
‘For goodness sake…stop worrying about work. You’re here tonight to enjoy yourself—remember?’
It seemed impossible to Sarah that Jane had not realised the real reason for her inattention. She heard herself make some absent remark about Lady Fentham’s outfit, and she listened while Jane pointed out other local dignitaries to her. Some of them she recognised from her teens… others were people Jane and Ralph had got to know since Ralph had been in business on his own.
Several people came up to talk to them; more than one commented on the attractiveness of her own and Jane’s costumes, and Sarah had to admit that they were vastly superior to those most of the guests were wearing.
When she made a comment to this effect Jane pulled a slight face. ‘I know it seems trivial and petty, but now that Ralph’s in business on his own, we do have to keep up appearances. Nothing inspires confidence in the business world quite as much as an outward show of success…but our dresses are lovely, aren’t they?’ She smoothed an appreciative hand over her own skirt. ‘Worth every extra penny it cost to hire them. It was Veronica who tipped me off about where to get them. She’s quite an old hand at these charity dos.
‘Where on earth is Ralph?’ she added frowning slightly. ‘He’s been gone ages. He’s probably talking business somewhere in the bar!’
‘He’s coming now,’ Sarah told her, having spotted her brother-in-law making his way towards them.
‘Come on with me, you two,’ he instructed, ‘we’ve got some celebrating to do.’ He was standing closer to Sarah than to Jane, and slipped his arm round Sarah’s waist, hugging her to him and kissed her on the cheek.
Without knowing why she did so Sarah looked across the room. Her heart started to thud with slow heavy beats as sapphire eyes engaged her own. It was as though a message passed between them; hers saying, ‘His kiss means nothing,’ and his replying, ‘No. I know…but mine will.’
She shuddered, only half listening as Ralph enquired anxiously. ‘Are you cold? You shivered…’
Sarah shook her head, her heart beating so fast, she felt as though it might choke her. Ralph had his other arm round Jane now and he was propelling them both towards the door to one of the supper rooms. Sarah felt as though she didn’t want to move; as though she would give anything not to break that contact so recently and so powerfully established.
The sensation she was experiencing was like nothing she had known before; a sexual magnetism so strong that it seemed almost other-worldly. It was as though a rapport had been established that was so strong and direct that no words were necessary. Unwillingly she let Ralph urge her away, amazed that neither he nor Jane seemed to be aware of what was happening to her. She had felt the power of that concentrated sapphire gaze so intensely that she couldn’t believe that no one else was aware of it.
‘This way,’ Ralph directed once they were in the supper room, guiding them in the direction of a table at which the Merryweathers sat.
Tom Merryweather stood up as they approached, pulling