Chapter 3

Chapter Three

T he Carletons' stately house was located near the Abbey. Hannah had visited with her parents many times during their previous stays in Bath, but never during one of the elderly couple's famous balls.

She set her hand in her brother's as he assisted her down from the Heywoods' gleaming coach and four. It was a temperate evening, with no trace of the persistent rain that had plagued the city last week. The moon shone brilliantly in the star-spangled night sky. Along with the torches and lamplights, it reflected in the polished lacquer of the long line of carriages, illuminating the arriving guests in their elegant black-and-white eveningwear and lavish silk dresses.

Hannah's own ball gown had been ordered at the modiste during one of the many shopping excursions she'd made with her mother. Composed of white tulle over a white satin slip, it boasted short sleeves, a pointed waist, and full skirts trimmed in pink roses and three flounces of blonde lace. A matching lace bertha, fastened with another full-blown pink rose, lent a degree of modesty to her bare neck and shoulders. The bodice beneath was cut far lower than the evening gowns she'd worn in the country. It made her feel incredibly grown up.

It was meant to do so. Though she was already nineteen years of age, it was tonight that marked her true ascension to womanhood. Along with the ball itself, her gown announced that she was no longer a child. She was a lady ready to make a suitable marriage.

Hannah's parents followed them into the house, her father walking with the aid of his ebony cane. He was a tall, well-made man like her brother, with granite-hewn features and black hair liberally threaded with gray. Hannah's mother was at his side, her arm tucked in his, a perpetual source of support. The amber silk fabric of her ball gown shimmered as they passed the blazing candelabras that fringed the entry hall.

Lord and Lady Carleton waited there to welcome their guests. They were a distinguished, white-haired couple—his lordship portly and bewhiskered and her ladyship hawk-nosed and dripping with jewels. Behind them, a marble staircase curved up to the ballroom. Music floated down, along with laughter and the hum of animated conversation.

"Miss Heywood," Lady Carleton said. "You are a vision. Is she not, Carleton?"

"A fine-looking gal," Lord Carleton concurred jovially. "She'll have the pick of all the young bucks this evening, I wager."

Hannah's cheeks warmed. His lordship had a booming voice. Doubtless everyone in the receiving line had heard him.

Lady Carleton gave her husband a reproving tap with her painted fan. "Hush, sir. You put the poor girl to the blush."

Hannah was glad when the elderly couple turned their attention to Charles and her parents. While they briefly conversed, she cast an uneasy glance up the stairs toward the ballroom. There were reputed to be more than two hundred guests attending this evening. Most of them would be strangers to her, and not all of them kind.

A pulse of anxiety throbbed at her throat.

She swallowed it back. There was no reason to panic. She had her family with her. Not only her parents and Charles, but her future sister-in-law as well.

"Do you suppose Kate and her parents are already here?" Hannah asked her brother as he led her up the staircase. The music grew louder.

Charles bent his head, pitching his voice so she could hear him. "Lady Carleton said they arrived not ten minutes before us."

Hannah exhaled a breath of relief. "Thank goodness."

Together, they entered the crowded, candlelit ballroom. Hannah held tight to her brother's arm as they navigated their way through the crush. Guests were gathered in tight-knit groups over the polished wood floor, talking, laughing, and wafting their fans. A bank of crimson-curtained windows flanked the left end of the long, high-ceilinged room. At the right, the orchestra was assembled on a dais, playing an unobtrusive tune. The dancing hadn't yet begun.

"All right, dearest?" Mama whispered, touching Hannah's back as she and Papa joined them at the edge of the ballroom.

Hannah gave her a small nod. Her mother understood better than anyone the struggle Hannah faced in combatting her shyness this evening. Mama was of a reticent disposition herself. It was she who had supervised the plans for Hannah's debut, every detail arranged to cause her daughter the least amount of distress.

But there was no alleviating the whole of Hannah's anxiety. Fear and agitation were, she suspected, an unavoidable fact of a young lady's launch into society, regardless of her disposition. So much hinged on the success of one's first ball. If all went right, a young lady would be firmly set on the path toward a brilliant season and—God willing—a brilliant match. But if all went wrong…

Before Hannah could dwell too much on her chances of failure, her dire musings were mercifully interrupted by Kate and her parents.

John Beresford, Earl of Allendale, was a commanding gentleman, tall and handsome with silver-streaked golden hair and the same cool gray gaze as his eldest son. His much-adored countess, Margaret, was on his arm. She was a petite lady, possessed of striking beauty and an enviable confidence of manner.

They greeted Hannah's parents warmly. The two families had met several times since Charles's and Kate's engagement and enjoyed a certain degree of familiarity. While they exchanged pleasantries, Kate rushed forward to clasp Hannah's hand.

She was a copy of her famously beautiful mother—mink-haired and petite, with a delicate cleft in her chin. Her mazarine velvet ball gown matched the vivid blue of her eyes. "I've been looking out for you since we arrived," she said. "How are you?"

"A bit overwhelmed," Hannah confessed under her breath.

"You don't appear so. That's the important thing." Kate stepped back to admire Hannah's toilette. "How well your gown has come out! And you chose the pink roses instead of the red, I'm pleased to see."

"Mama procured them this morning."

"You look lovely, my dear," Lady Allendale said, turning her attention to Hannah. "It's no wonder your parents are glowing with pride."

Hannah's mother and father smiled at her. Hannah managed a small smile in return, not wanting to disappoint them.

"Lady Carleton has chosen a polonaise for the first set," Kate said. She glanced at the paper fan dangling from Hannah's wrist. "Is that your dance card?"

"It is." Hannah showed it to her. "Charles has put himself down for a country dance."

Kate flashed an arch look at her future husband. "How chivalrous of him."

Charles smiled. "One does one's best."

"You may rely on Ivo for a dance as well," Kate said. "He's here somewhere with his betrothed, Miss Burton-Smythe. My brother James might have stood up with you too, if he'd troubled to come."

Hannah gave Kate an alert glance. "He's not attending?"

"Not that I'm aware," Kate answered.

A bewildering mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through Hannah. She didn't let it show. She was too conscious of everyone's attention on her face. Not only her mother, father, and brother, but Lord and Lady Allendale too.

Were they all as curious about Hannah and Lord St. Clare as Hannah's mother had been? And all because Lord St. Clare had so inexplicably come to Bath?

Well, Hannah thought stoutly, this would surely set their suspicions to rest. For if Lord St. Clare had any romantic interest in her, he would have been here tonight to stake his claim. Instead, he hadn't come at all.

It was difficult not to take it as a slight.

Still, Hannah supposed it wasn't wholly a surprise. Lord St. Clare had called at Camden Place but twice since his visit on the day of their arrival. Both times, it had been in the presence of their families. Hannah had exchanged hardly any words with him, her shyness in his presence having only increased after her mother had suggested that he might have a tendre for her.

"It's no great loss," Kate said. "You don't want to be spending all of the evening dancing with present and future relations. What you require is an eligible gentleman." She looked to the others. "If you will allow us to take a turn about the room?"

Hannah's mother inclined her head. "By all means."

Kate linked her arm with Hannah's. "Walk with me," she said, drawing Hannah away. "Your father and brother are too imposing, that's the trouble. Few gentlemen will dare approach you with them looming nearby."

Hannah felt several curious looks in her direction, both from ladies and from gentlemen, as she strolled the perimeter of the ballroom with Kate. Her stomach trembled under their scrutiny. It was difficult to be stared at, whatever the circumstances. One never knew if those staring were being critical or admiring.

"A respectable gentleman must seek permission from my parents before asking me to dance, mustn't he?" she asked.

"No, indeed," Kate said. "Not unless he's a very dull dog. You don't want one of those. As for the other gentlemen, it's not disrespectful for them to ask you directly. It's only a waltz or a polka, after all, not a proposal of marriage. One needn't involve one's father in the transaction."

"But if we're not acquainted?—"

"Any gentlemen interested in dancing with you will apply to our hosts for an introduction. That's why I suggested we take a turn. You want to be seen. A lady is always at her best when she's in motion."

They hadn't been promenading long when Lady Carleton intercepted them. She had a gentleman with her, just as Kate had predicted.

"Miss Heywood! There you are. And Lady Kate. How charming. May I present Sir George Dacres of Middlebury Hall as a very worthy partner?" Her ladyship urged the gentleman forward. "Sir George? Miss Heywood, granddaughter of the Earl of Gordon, and this is Lady Kate Beresford, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Allendale."

"Miss Heywood. My lady." Sir George bowed to them. He was a man of moderate height, with a neatly trimmed beard and side-whiskers. Not an unbecoming figure of a fellow, but nowhere near as devastatingly handsome as a man like Viscount St. Clare.

Which was nothing to the point. Hannah shouldn't be comparing gentlemen to Lord St. Clare as though he was the secret standard of her heart. She wasn't looking for a man with a striking appearance. She wanted one with an admirable character.

Perhaps Sir George might be him?

He offered his hand to her as the orchestra struck up the music for the opening march. "If you would do me the honor?"

Hannah mutely accepted his offer, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

The other couples took their places, while those who weren't dancing receded to the edges of the ballroom to watch.

Any shyness Hannah felt at dancing with a stranger was promptly overshadowed by the focus it took to remember the sinking steps and turns of the polonaise. She found herself looking down at her feet far more than she ought, only to raise her gaze and realize that she'd forgotten her place. It made conversation difficult. On every occasion Sir George attempted to engage her, she could only reply by saying yes or no—that is, when she remembered to reply at all.

By the time the polonaise came to a close, Hannah had dispensed with any idea that Sir George might be the one for her. Plainly impatient with her awkwardness, he was all-too eager to search out a different partner.

Lady Carleton was undeterred. She introduced Hannah to a succession of other gentlemen as the evening progressed?—younger sons of the gentry, country squires, and a widowed baronet.

Hannah danced with them all to similar effect. Indeed, there wasn't a single set she was obliged to sit out for lack of a partner. Charles and Ivo were the only ones among them who made the effort enjoyable. With them, at least, she lost some of her anxiousness and could actually take pleasure in dancing. As for the rest of the gentlemen…

They were all of them civil, and many of them kind, but none were in any way romantic.

Hannah finished a country dance with her latest partner, a self-important young baron from Dorset with an impeccably groomed mustache. He led her back to her parents as the other guests assembled for the next set. It was to be the first waltz of the evening. It was also the supper dance. Whoever partnered her for it would have the privilege of dining with her.

Thus far, the waltz had remained unclaimed on her dance card. Hannah anticipated Lady Carleton would supply her with a partner for it just as she'd done the other dances. But as Hannah approached her parents, it wasn't her ladyship she spied standing with them along the edge of the ballroom.

It was Lord St. Clare.