The Captain Claims His Lady. ANNIE BURROWS

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Three

      ‘And of course,’ said Lady Mainwaring, ‘I told her...’

      Lizzie kept her head tilted to one side, her eyes fixed in the general direction of Bath’s most garrulous widow, while her mind wandered freely. It was one of the benefits of having such poor eyesight. People didn’t expect her to look as though she was focusing intently on them when they cornered her and tried to interest her in the latest gossip.

      She did make sure she smiled at Lady Mainwaring though, because the plump little woman was one of the least terrifying of the Bath set. Lizzie was certain that she gossiped about her the moment they parted company, but she never actually said anything unkind to her face, the way so many of the other dowagers did. Lady Mainwaring had never asked her why she didn’t smarten herself up, for example, or recommended modistes who would know how to counteract her faults, or sigh and pretend to sympathise with the difficulty of finding eligible young men in Bath these days. She was too keen on keeping Lizzie up to date with what everyone else in Bath was doing.

      ‘Excuse me,’ said the Master of Ceremonies, bowing to both ladies and making Lizzie jump. She hadn’t noticed him approaching, so intent had she been on convincing Lady Mainwaring she was listening to her account of her latest altercation with one of the other dowagers.

      ‘I have here a gentleman I would wish to recommend as a dancing partner, for you, Miss Hutton.’

      ‘For me?’ Lizzie couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d told her she’d just won the lottery. Especially since she’d never purchased a ticket.

      ‘Permit me to introduce Captain Bretherton, of His Majesty’s navy,’ said the Master of Ceremonies, smoothly ignoring Lizzie’s less-than-gracious reaction, and waving to someone who, presumably from the direction of the waving, was standing just behind him.

      ‘Captain Bretherton?’ Of the navy? She peered beyond Mr King’s shoulder and saw an immense figure loom up out of the golden candlelit fog. And her heart skipped a beat. It was the man from the Pump Room that morning. It had to be. For there surely couldn’t be two such tall, broad men in Bath at present.

      ‘Miss Hutton,’ said a voice she recognised at once. A voice that sent strange feelings rippling through her whole body. Making her feel a bit like a pointer quivering in the presence of game. ‘I am charmed to make your acquaintance.’

      ‘Eep!’ That was the noise which escaped Lady Mainwaring’s mouth as Captain Bretherton stepped closer and bowed over her hand. Which also, coincidentally, expressed exactly what Lizzie was thinking.

      ‘Captain Bretherton,’ said Lizzie, dropping into a curtsy. Causing Lady Mainwaring to stagger a little as Lizzie’s elbow caught her in the midriff.

      She really ought to practise curtsying more often. She had never mastered the art of controlling her elbows. It was hard enough to get her knees to dip to the approved level, while keeping her balance. Spreading her elbows wide helped her not to stagger in the rising portion of the curtsy, she’d discovered. And Lady Buntingford, who’d been the one attempting to teach her all that a lady needed to know, had said that she supposed that at least it meant she could perform the whole manoeuvre relatively smoothly, even if nobody and nothing within range of them was likely to emerge unscathed.

      ‘Allow me to escort you to the ballroom,’ said Captain Bretherton, as a large, gloved hand swam into view.

      She took it, grateful that she couldn’t see the expression on his face. The poor man must be regretting having asked her to dance, now that he’d seen how clumsy she was.

      ‘You are very brave,’ came tumbling out of her mouth. And then she blushed. That was just the sort of thing she ought not to tell a man, just before he danced with her.

      But then, what did it matter, really? Once he’d spent half an hour stepping over the bodies she’d no doubt strew across the dance floor, he would never come anywhere near her again.

      Oh, dear. It had been so pleasant daydreaming about her encounter with him this morning. She’d actually been witty for a few moments. But now she had a horrid feeling that she was only ever going to be able to cringe when she looked back on what was likely to happen during the course of the next half-hour.

      She felt his arm, upon which she’d rested her hand in the requisite manner, stiffen.

      ‘Brave? What do you mean?’

      ‘To ask me to dance,’ she confessed miserably.

      ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘But it was the only way I could think of to get an introduction. Wondering what your name could really be has been tormenting me all day.’

      ‘Oh, well, if that is all, we don’t need to go through with it. We could just go to the tea room...’

      ‘Tea won’t be served for another hour СКАЧАТЬ