Page 11 of The Chaperone
‘Sir Esmond Fawley? Oh, well he looks terribly serious and boring, and not important at all. He should be the ideal partner for Sophy.’
The gentleman thus dismissed, was at the same moment discussing her with his partner.
‘I see that Lady Chelmarsh is not only bringing out your sister but another young lady.’
‘My cousin, Lord Tyneham’s sister.’
‘Tyneham? Who would have thought a fellow such as Tyneham would have a sister so full of … vivacity. She is clearly not much like him.’ His eyes strayed for a moment to where Susan was trying to look unconcerned, and fanning herself, idly.
‘Did you ask me to dance to find out about her, Sir Esmond?’ Sophy raised an eyebrow, but smiled.
‘Not in the least, Lady Sophronia,’ he responded, promptly. ‘I happen to recall that you were a very fine dancer, and would not be tongue-tied, as I fear so many of the young ladies will be tonight.’
‘Now you put me to the blush, sir, for I sound as if fishing for compliments, and I was not.’
‘Then I apologise, instantly. I take it that you would not wish me to say that I have been disappointed, and must have been thinking of a different lady?’
‘I would not believe that, for how well I know that I linger in the memory as “that very tall girl who could at least dance”.’
‘I prefer “that excellent dancer who was not abysmally short”.’
Sophy laughed.
Susan, watching them, frowned. The serious, and unimportant, Sir Esmond seemed to be entertaining her cousin quite amazingly. When he led her from the floor at the conclusion of the dance, Susan spared him a second glance. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and looked the sort of man Susan would have thought more at home upon the hunting field than the dance floor, although he had shown himself nimble enough. He was certainly not a callow youth, and, had he not been merely a baronet, Susan told herself he might have been worth putting herself out to ensnare.
Sir Esmond caught her evaluating him, and read her like a book. His lips twitched, very slightly. It was most unusual to find a ‘predator’ among the debutantes. It would be interesting to watch her machinations. As he had said to Sophy, so many girls in their first Season took time to find their feet, and were thus rather bland. Miss Tyneham would not be bland.
Lady Chelmarsh had withdrawn to an alcove with a friend she had not seen for some years. Sophy, rather buoyed by having had the fun of dancing, did not see the gentleman who had picked up Susan’s parcel in Bond Street until he was making his bow.
‘I trust that Fawley has not trodden upon your toes with his big feet, ma’am.’ The gentleman grinned at Sir Esmond. ‘You have the advantage, Fawley. Do introduce us.’
‘I had assumed you would know Lady Sophronia, but … May I present Lord Rothley to you, ma’am. He is a terrible fellow as you will no doubt find out but—’
‘And I am being traduced by a man I call a friend!’ Lord Rothley countered, looking theatrical. He swept a bow. ‘Your servant, Lady Sophronia …’ He paused, awaiting the full introduction.
‘The Lady Sophronia Hadlow, also her sister … My apologies, for I did not catch your name, ma’am,’ Sir Esmond looked at Harriet, who blushed, curtsied, and gave her name. ‘And Miss Tyneham.’
‘Lady Sophronia. Lady Harriet. Miss Tyneham, I trust you have not dropped your fan, or indeed your reticule, this evening?’ Lord Rothley’s eyes danced, and the tone was faintly mocking.
‘Oh no, my lord.’ Susan looked at him quite squarely. ‘My grip is quite tenacious when I wish it to be.’
Sophy shuddered.
‘Not too tenacious, I hope, or else it would be difficult to part in the moves of the dances. Might I ask for the next dance, ma’am?’
For a moment, just a moment, Susan considered refusing him because of his mockery, but the desire not to remain a mere onlooker was too strong.
‘You may ask, my lord. It so happens that I am not engaged for this particular dance and so I am able to accede to your request.’
She offered her hand, like a queen dispensing a favour. Sir Esmond, watching the pair as they took their places, murmured to Sophy, ‘Not the shy, retiring maiden, your cousin, ma’am.’
‘No, those are not the adjectives commonly used in association with her name, Sir Esmond.’ She looked at her cousin, and the man with whom she was dancing. ‘I wonder why I was not acquainted with Lord Rothley?’
‘He … er … spent some time abroad after his mother died a few years ago. Must be that.’ His eyes followed hers. Susan was attempting flirtation, one could see that without hearing a word. Lord Rothley looked amused, his dark head bending to hers as the steps of the dance brought them together. They made a fine couple. Sir Esmond also noted Lady Harriet looking a little wistful.
‘Having had the delight of dancing with the senior sister, might I complete the pleasure of the evening by requesting the next dance with you, Lady Harriet?’
‘With me, sir?’
