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A Worthy Gentleman. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.

A Worthy Gentleman - Anne  Herries


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walked obediently in her mother’s wake. Lady Tate and Tilda were already in the hall being helped on with their evening cloaks by the housekeeper. Tilda smiled as she watched Sarah come down the stairs to join them.

      ‘You look quite beautiful,’ she said. ‘That gown is a triumph, Sarah dear.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Sarah replied. ‘It is rather lovely, isn’t it?’

      ‘I am sure any gown would look lovely on you, Sarah,’ Lady Tate told her with a look of approval. ‘Are we all ready? I know that Coachman is ready for us…’

      She led the way outside to where her town carriage was waiting to convey them to the house of Lady Moore, which was a few streets away. Sarah knew that they could have walked there in the time it took to make the carriage and horses ready, but it was impossible—their dainty evening shoes would gather the filth of the pavements and it would not be wise for four ladies to be abroad in London at night without an escort. In their own carriage, with their grooms and coachman, they were perfectly safe. They were unlikely to be accosted by the bands of wild young men who sometimes roamed the streets looking for victims to persecute, and highwaymen usually haunted only the lonely country roads.

      Sarah listened to the chatter of her companions. She had little to say, for she was feeling apprehensive. Would she be left standing at the side of the room for more than one dance? She had few acquaintance in London, though she had met some ladies, friends of her mother’s and Lady Tate’s, but only a sprinkling of gentlemen as yet—and most of them were either married or quite elderly.

      The house was lit up outside and link boys waited with their lanterns to show the way for the ladies as they stepped down from the carriage. A red carpet had been laid down for them so that they did not soil their slippers. Inside the house, maids took their wraps from them and they were directed to the main stairs, leading up to the first floor. Sarah could hear music playing as they reached the top and followed other guests to what was a large drawing room, which had been turned into a ballroom for the evening. Double doors had been folded back to give access from a second parlour, where the guests were mingling and drinking champagne.

      That evening was only a small affair, with no more than fifty guests invited, not one of the huge crushes that would take place later in the season. Lady Moore had, as she made clear in her invitation, asked her close friends to a little dance for her niece Julia. She smiled as Sarah was brought forward to be introduced.

      ‘Ah, Miss Hunter—Sarah, my dear. I want you to meet Julia. She is a little younger than you, perhaps, but I hope you may become friends.’ She looked approvingly at her niece. ‘This is Miss Sarah Hunter, Julia. Why do you not go with her now, my love? Most of our guests are here and I shall greet the latecomers alone. There is no need for you to miss the dancing, for it has already begun.’

      ‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Julia said and nodded to Sarah. ‘If you would like to come with me, Miss Hunter. I must confess that I am glad to have your company. Aunt Mary tells me that it is your first dance in London and it is mine too. We may give each other courage perhaps?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah replied and smiled at her. She was a pretty girl with dark hair and not as tall as Sarah, but she seemed friendly and willing to be entertained. ‘I should like that, Julia. I do not know many people in town yet.’

      ‘Nor I,’ Julia said. ‘My aunt is very pleased with herself for she has captured one or two notable persons. The duke has not yet arrived, but he has said that he will come.’

      ‘Oh…’ Sarah was at a loss. ‘I am sorry—I do not know who you mean.’

      ‘My aunt’s cousin—the Duke of Pentyre,’ Julia said. ‘He is a rather distant cousin really, several times removed, but she does not mention that in company. She sent him an invitation, but did not think he would attend—he often refuses more prestigious affairs than this, you know.’

      ‘He sounds rather proud.’

      ‘Yes, perhaps. I have only met him once and he just stared through me. I was, of course, only a child then, but I did not truly like him. Aunt Mary is always talking of him, but I do not think I should like to marry him.’

      ‘Why is that?’ Sarah asked, a little surprised at the confidence.

      ‘Oh…no reason, just that he frightens me,’ Julia said and gave a nervous giggle. ‘But I am talking too much. It is because I am anxious, I suppose.’

      ‘Not at all.’

      Sarah shook her head and gave her new friend an encouraging smile. They had entered the ballroom now and, glancing round, she saw that ten couples were dancing, while a sprinkling of gentlemen stood talking.

      They had been noticed! Sarah took a deep breath as three gentlemen came towards them, inclining their heads respectfully to Julia.

      ‘Miss Moore, may I beg a dance with you?’ one of them said and then looked at Sarah, his eyebrows raised. ‘I do not believe I have had the honour?’

      ‘Lord Henry Arnold,’ Julia said. ‘May I present Miss Sarah Hunter…Sir Matthew, Lord Bingham…’

      The first introductions over, Sarah was asked to dance by all three gentlemen, beginning with Lord Bingham. She danced next with Lord Arnold and continued with Sir Matthew. Returning to her mama after the third dance, she was besieged by eager gentlemen. Her mama introduced those she was acquainted with and Lady Tate made her known to some others. It was not long before her card was filled and her fears of being a wallflower long forgotten.

      

      She and Julia had stood together between dances, getting to know each other. It was therefore almost two hours later that Sarah returned from dancing with Lord Bingham for the second time to discover a tall and distinguished gentleman standing with her mama and Lady Tate.

      ‘Ah, Sarah my dear,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘The duke was delayed earlier and has but now arrived. He asked if he might dance with you and I was obliged to tell him that your card was filled. However, I said that I was sure you would allow him to take you into supper, my dear.’

      Sarah dipped a curtsy. The gentleman was perhaps in his early forties, still attractive, if not wildly handsome, and, as he smiled at her, she thought that he had a pleasant manner.

      ‘I shall be obliged, your Grace,’ she replied. ‘I have been asked to take supper by several gentlemen and found it difficult to choose without offence—but I believe you may claim to have precedence.’

      ‘By virtue of my rank?’ he asked, one mobile eyebrow lifting in wry amusement. ‘I would prefer that I was your personal choice, Miss Hunter—but shall accept that I must earn your good opinion.’

      ‘Oh, no, sir,’ Sarah said and laughed softly. ‘I am sure that it ought not to be a case of earning my good opinion, for we do not know one another and I can have formed no opinion as yet.’

      ‘Beautiful and sensible,’ the duke said approvingly. ‘I believe you are to attend my own small affair, Miss Hunter. I must ask that you will save at least one dance for me.’

      ‘Oh, I think I may spare two—one to make up for the disappointment of this evening, if you wish it, sir?’

      ‘Thank you.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘It will do very well, Miss Hunter. I shall claim you for supper.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said. There was no time to say more, for her next partner had arrived and she could only smile vaguely at the duke before she was led away.

      ‘You have a charming daughter,’ the duke said, glancing at Mrs Hunter. ‘I shall hope that we may meet often in the future.’

      ‘There, Selina,’ Lady Tate whispered as he walked away. ‘I think Sarah has made a conquest. What a fine thing it would be for her if he were to make her an offer.’

      ‘I had thought…the Conte di Ceasares, you know,’ Mrs Hunter said, her eyes on the retreating back of the duke. ‘But


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