LITMIR.BIZ

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she had ever experienced before, excelling all her childhood dreams. She had wondered what it might be like to be held by him, but she could never have imagined the swirling emotions inside her, the heady sensation of dancing on air, or being swept away to a magical place. But this was not the magic of her childhood dreams. Lucy knew instinctively that what she felt for Lord Harcourt was love—the kind of love a woman feels for the man she wishes to be her husband.

      For the duration of their dance, she allowed herself to float over the floor in his arms, lost to reality. She had never known passion or lust, never been kissed other than on the cheek by her relatives or friends, but something deep within her was responding to an age-old need that she had never even guessed existed until this moment.

      She wished that she could go on dancing with him for ever, wished that this wonderful experience might never end, but all too soon the music was finishing and everyone began to make a move towards the supper room.

      ‘Perhaps you would like some supper, Miss Horne?’ Jack suggested, but at that moment Lucy’s mama came up to them.

      ‘Well, my dear, I am glad to see you looking so happy,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘Come along, Lucy. I want you to help me choose my supper from the wonderful buffet Marianne has ordered for us.’

      Lucy gave her partner an apologetic look. She would have preferred to take supper with him, but could not refuse her mama’s request. He inclined his head as if to say that he understood, and she turned away, following in her mother’s wake. In the supper room she was invited to sit with a party of young people, and to her surprise her mama indicated that she might do so.

      ‘Yes, run along, dearest. You do not need to look after me, for Jo will help me.’

      Lucy was a little bewildered. Why had her mama insisted that she accompany her, only to release her almost at once? Joining the other young people, Lucy hoped that Lord Harcourt would not be offended. However, a few minutes later, she saw that he was at the buffet with Miss Tremaine. He was laughing in response to something she was saying, and Lucy felt a pang of regret. She would have enjoyed eating her supper with Lord Harcourt.

      ‘Is something wrong, Miss Horne?’

      Lucy turned to the young man sitting beside her. He was fair-haired, about twenty years of age, and attractive.

      ‘Nothing, thank you, Mr Tristram,’ Lucy said. ‘I was thinking of something, but it is not important.’ She turned her bright eyes on him. ‘Have you enjoyed this evening?’

      ‘Yes,’ he agreed with a slight flush in his cheeks. ‘More than I expected. These country dances are often boring, you know—but you were here this evening and that made all the difference.’

      ‘Oh…’ Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘How kind of you to say so, sir—though I do not see how my presence could make so much difference.’

      ‘Do you not?’ He grinned at her. ‘No, I suppose not. I dare say you have no idea how beautiful you are.’

      ‘Beautiful…’ Lucy’s laugh tinkled like fairy bells. ‘Oh, no, you cannot mean that, sir. I have been told that I am pretty, but beautiful…’ Her gaze fell on Miss Tremaine. ‘Now she is beautiful.’

      John Tristram’s eyes followed in direction of her gaze and he frowned. ‘She is very striking,’ he agreed. ‘But that kind of beauty is skin deep, for I think she is a little shallow, whereas you—’ He broke off, looking awkward as Lucy’s brow furrowed. ‘I hope I have not offended you, Miss Lucy?’

      ‘No, of course not,’ Lucy said and wrinkled her nose endearingly. ‘Is she shallow? I think perhaps you are a little critical, Mr Tristram.’

      ‘Yes, perhaps—and I should not have said it,’ he replied. ‘But in my opinion she cannot hold a candle to you.’

      ‘Oh…that is kind,’ Lucy said, giving him a radiant smile. ‘I have felt a little awkward in her presence, for she seems so clever…so vibrant.’

      ‘Yes, she is clever,’ he acknowledged, ‘though sometimes at the expense of others—which I think cruel. You would never be unkind, Miss Lucy.’

      The expression in his eyes was little short of adoring, which made Lucy blush and look away. She liked him very well, and his compliments were a boost to her confidence, but she was an honest girl and she knew that she could never feel anything more than friendship for him.

      ‘Do you hunt, Mr Tristram?’ she asked, because it was a subject that usually turned the gentlemen’s conversation and it did not fail her now. For the next few minutes he regaled her with stories of his hunting experiences, and then the conversation became general.

      The company began to drift back to the ballroom. Some of the guests, who had farther to go, had started to take their leave, but others continued to dance, and Lucy was one of them. She was claimed by Drew and then by Hal Beverley, and was one of the last to leave the ballroom. As she went upstairs, she saw that Lord Harcourt and Miss Tremaine had gone out into the conservatory, and her mood of elation was dimmed by the realisation that there was very likely an understanding between them.

      Lucy refused to acknowledge the pain in her breast. She would be very silly to break her heart for a man who hardly knew she existed. He had been kind to her, but he thought her still a child. Miss Tremaine was some years older than Lucy, and an heiress. Why should he look at Lucy when Miss Tremaine was clearly so willing to be courted?

      Lucy slept very well that night, undisturbed by dreams. Jack Harcourt was not as fortunate. He had accompanied Miss Tremaine to the conservatory to help look for a diamond earring she claimed to have lost, but when it remained elusive he had become aware of the expectant expression in her eyes.

      ‘I fear I must have lost it elsewhere,’ she said apologetically and looked up at him, her soft lips slightly parted. ‘How foolish of me…’

      ‘Perhaps it is not lost at all,’ he replied. ‘You may find it in your room later or caught within your clothing.’

      ‘Oh, do you think so?’ She pulled at the lace about her décolletage. ‘Do you think it can have fallen down here?’

      ‘I have no idea,’ Jack told her, realising too late that his attentions during the evening had led her to expect a declaration. ‘I think you must ask your mama to look—or search for it yourself in your room. It is not for me to speculate on such matters, Miss Tremaine.’

      ‘I would not ask any gentleman,’ she said huskily and looked at him with a clear invitation in her eyes. ‘But you…It would not offend me—’

      ‘It would offend my sense of decency where a young lady of respectable birth is concerned,’ Jack replied harshly. ‘Even if we had an understanding, which we do not, I should not expect such liberties until after the wedding. As I have no plans to marry just yet, I think we should bring this conversation to an end, Miss Tremaine.’

      He had been too blunt, for she had turned bright red and rushed from the conservatory, leaving him wishing that he had chosen his words more carefully. Jack had not meant to offend her, and though she had pushed herself on him determinedly since his arrival, he had done nothing to discourage her. Indeed, she was very much the kind of lady he had been toying with the idea of marrying, because he believed she was unlikely to be easily hurt. She had come out four seasons ago, and had not yet married. He had no idea why, because she was beautiful and in possession of a small fortune, which should have been enough to secure her many offers. Either she had refused them all or for some reason her suitors had held back.

      Dismissing Miss Tremaine from his thoughts, Jack went out into the garden to smoke a last cigar. He was thoughtful as he stared at the moon, remembering his dance with Miss Horne, a faint smile on his lips. There was no doubt about it, she was an enchanting child—much too young for him, of course. Besides, her mama had clearly heard those damned rumours, for why else had she intervened when he had been about to invite Lucy to take supper with him? It annoyed him that the tales should be circulating, but there was nothing he could do to refute them.

      She

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