Page 48 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

‘I—’ Giles began, but a look of alarm on the girl’s face reminded him that he could not acknowledge their previous conversation. Lady Bayfield, he felt instinctively, would not approve of Miss Sanderton’s talking to him before they had been introduced. ‘Miss Sanderton,’ he said instead, and bowed.

The music began again, and he straightened, somehow found Miss Bayfield’s hand on his arm, somehow gathered enough wit to lead her towards the floor. One glance back showed the fair-haired girl watching them with an expression of resignation. He felt desperately uncomfortable. He had asked her to dance, and was dancing instead with her friend; he hoped she did not think he had used her to get to Miss Bayfield. What were Miss Sanderton’s circumstances? Who was she? There was no polite and decent way he could quiz Miss Bayfield about her. He must finish this dance, and perhaps he could dance with Miss Sanderton later. Now he had been introduced, it would not look too particular.

But then he remembered that Miss Bayfield was one of the favoured top five on his aunt’s list, and that Miss Sanderton hadn’t been mentioned at all. He was not here to enjoy himself, he was here to find a rich bride. He felt like an ass, and a cad.

He must pay his partner proper attention. He smiled down at her. ‘There’s a tremendous crowd here tonight, isn’t there?’ It was the conventional opening: Il y a beaucoup du monde à Versailles aujourd’hui. King’s pawn forward two. Necessary start to the game.

Miss Bayfield flicked a glance up at him – a flash of blue that was startling in its intensity – then veiled her eyes behind dark lashes. It was not a look of coquetry, he realised, but one of nervousness – almost panic. Her hand trembled in his.

And she said – or, rather, whispered, ‘Yes.’ And that was all.

Richard laughed. ‘Lord, what a pickle! I really should never let you out of my sight!’

‘Difficult, when you didn’t even bother to go to the Wansborough ball.’

‘I never do. I knew how foul it would be. But, oh, Giles, how delicious! Chatting away and making famous progress with entirely the wrong girl! I wish I’d been there to see your face when the real Miss Bayfield appeared!’

‘I couldn’t get a word out of her during the dance,’ Giles said gloomily. ‘She was so nervous, I thought she might faint. The only time she even looked at me, it was the way a lamb looks at a butcher holding a very sharp knife.’

‘That’s rather the point,’ Richard said, making himself comfortable. He offered his cigarillo case. ‘Smoke?’ Giles shook his head. ‘Miss Bayfield is apparently terribly shy, so they’re bringing her out with a friend to bolster her confidence.’

‘How do you know about it?’

‘I got it out of Aunt. Miss Bayfield and Miss Sanderton were at school together and formed a close attachment – you know how girls are.’

‘No,’ said Giles drily, ‘evidently I don’t.’

‘You don’t?’ Richard blew out a fragrant cloud. ‘Look, old boy, you and I haven’t had much to do with each other for the past few years, so I really don’t know … What, exactly, is your experience with women?’ Giles did not answer, staring away over Richard’s shoulder. More gently, he asked, ‘Have you any experience with women?’

‘Of course I have!’ Giles scowled. And then he looked away again. ‘Just not—’

Richard got down to brass tacks. ‘Have you ever kissed a girl? Come, come, I’m trying to help. Be frank with me.’

‘There was my housemaster’s daughter at Eton. I kissed her once. In the garden.’

‘Once?’

Giles was nettled. ‘There’ve been moments at house parties when I almost … The sister of one of the other fellows at Oxford – one Christmas in the conservatory … And a girl – the publican’s daughter, at the Royal George—’

‘Yes, I know her,’ Richard said, effectively silencing him. ‘So you’ve kissed two girls and had a fumble behind the Royal George.’ He considered. ‘Did you like it?’

Giles reddened. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Nothing, brother dear. Don’t be so sensitive. Any little adventurettes abroad? Any Florentine beauties, Athenian goddesses? Any sultry dark-eyed Cleopatras in Cairo?’ Giles didn’t answer. Richard went on, ‘So, in summary, you know nothing about women.’

‘I have the benefit of a classical education,’ Giles said. He seemed to realise this sounded feeble, and hurried on, ‘I’ve been busy. I haven’t had time to spare for any of that romantic business. I suppose you’ve—’

Richard held up his hands. ‘We’re not discussing me, vast though my experience is. But I think it’s plain that you need me to guide you, or you’ll end up leg-shackled to entirely the wrong person, and that won’t help either of us. From now on, we work together. I shall be always at your shoulder, advising you, pointing you in the right direction, writing your lines for you, bringing you suitable candidates and shielding you from predatory females.’

‘Predatory?’

‘What females want, the only thing they want, is to get married, and they hunt down husbands, like lionesses hunting deer.’

‘Oh, come! You don’t mean it.’

‘In fact, it’s worse than that,’ Richard said solemnly. ‘Women are like those insects that consume their mates. We men are helpless victims.’

It occurred to Giles at last that Richard was teasing him, and he laughed. ‘Fool!’