The Devil's Waltz. Anne Stuart

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      She joined Josiah and the rebellious Hetty in the library before dinner. Hetty was sitting by the fire, dressed in a perfect concoction of pink lace, and she tried to ignore Annelise’s arrival, staring into the flames with fierce concentration.

      “You look lovely tonight, Miss Kempton,” Josiah said in his booming voice, and Annelise was uncomfortably aware of her godmother’s matchmaking maneuvers. “Where are your manners, girl?” he demanded of Hetty. “Say good evening to Miss Kempton!”

      “Good evening,” Hetty muttered, still staring at the fire.

      “And has my daughter been behaving herself? She’s a bit headstrong, you know, and she thinks she knows what’s best for her. I’m counting on you to keep an eye on her for me, make sure she meets the right kind of young gentlemen. I don’t much care whether they’ve a fortune or not—I’ve more than enough money to keep my Hetty in style for the rest of her life, including whoever she chooses to marry. But she’ll be wanting a title, don’t you know, and I expect she’ll insist on someone young and handsome. She’s too flighty to recognize the worth of an older, more established gentleman. I’m sure you’re not so unwise,” he said with a knowing look that was far too familiar.

      Oh, God, he was flirting with her, Annelise thought. She managed her best smile. “Oh, a girl with Miss Hetty’s qualities can certainly expect to find someone of a compatible age and nature. In truth, I think she’d be best off with someone closer to her own age, perhaps in his early twenties.” A good ten years younger than Christian Montcalm.

      Neither of the Chipples looked pleased with that statement, though oddly enough Hetty seemed less disturbed than her father.

      “She’s marrying a title, and that’s all there is to it,” Josiah said flatly, and there was an ugly expression around his mouth that Annelise didn’t quite like. “She’s had enough of country living and local squires. She needs some town bronze, and then she can have her pick of anyone I deem suitable. She’s moved way past childhood friends.”

      Who’d said anything about childhood friends? Hetty’s pretty little mouth turned downward, but still she said nothing. So there was yet another unsuitable suitor in her life. Clearly someone young and rural had once caught her eye, and she hadn’t yet dismissed him entirely.

      Anyone would be better than a life with Montcalm and his cronies. She needed to find out more about this childhood suitor to see whether he might be a perfectly reasonable choice.

      At least it showed that Hetty could be easily distracted. If she’d set her eyes on the exotic Christian Montcalm so quickly, then she could be gently urged in another direction without too much difficulty.

      “If you’re talking about William I assure you I’ve completely forgotten him,” Hetty grumbled. “I’m much more interested in Christian Montcalm.”

      “I’m not certain I like you seeing him, missy,” Josiah said. “I’ve heard rumors that he’s not quite the gentleman he should be, and I expect you can do better. Perhaps we don’t have to aim as high as a viscountcy…”

      “Titles are overvalued anyway,” Hetty said with a suddenly hopeful look in her blue eyes that Annelise found interesting.

      “Not to me,” Josiah said flatly. “And if we don’t go to dinner soon we’ll be late for Lady Bellwhite’s. I had to go to a great deal of trouble to get us an invitation, and it wouldn’t do to arrive late.”

      “Actually,” Annelise said gently, “it would be even worse form to arrive early. About an hour after the event is scheduled to begin is usually the optimum time to arrive. That way a great many people are already there to appreciate the lovely entrance your daughter makes, and yet it won’t seem careless or rude.”

      “Not everyone follows your silly rules. Christian Montcalm often shows up at the very end of the evening,” Hetty said.

      Annelise smiled faintly. “My point exactly.”

      “Then we’ll arrive precisely at ten o’clock,” Mr. Chipple announced.

      “And leave before the very end of the evening,” Annelise added, only to catch Hetty’s glare.

      “And I’ll be a lucky man, squiring two such pretty ladies,” Josiah said gallantly.

      The sound Hetty made was almost a snort, but her father had already started toward the door. He paused to confer with the butler, and Hetty sidled up to Annelise. “You didn’t tell him about the park, did you?”

      “No.”

      “Are you planning to?”

      “Not at this moment. I’m certain you saw the error of your ways. A young lady’s reputation is of paramount importance.”

      “You are such an old maid!” Hetty said. “Do you spend your entire life lecturing? Don’t you get tired of it?”

      Indeed, she did. There was nothing more tedious than pointing out social lapses to a spoiled little girl, and lecturing always suggested an air of superiority, which Annelise never felt she could quite carry off. “I’m here to help,” she said stiffly.

      “And besides, my reputation doesn’t matter. It’ll be gone to the devil when I marry Christian Montcalm anyway,” she said cheerfully.

      “Your language, missy!” Josiah Chipple rumbled, with sharper ears than Annelise would have thought.

      “Yes, Father.” And she stuck out her tongue at Annelise as she sailed by, making her feel very old and tiresome indeed.

      Josiah was a man of his word—they arrived at Lady Bellwhite’s town house at precisely ten o’clock in the evening. The street was already crowded with carriages, the noise and the music from the elegant little mansion spilled out into the streets, and Annelise groaned at the thought of another crowd. At least there’d be suitors, she told herself, already less than enamored of this particular visit.

      And she was right. By the time they reached the ballroom they’d passed by three rather weedy young men, four elderly widowers, an earl with a weak heart and a bad reputation, and a bevy of other possible contenders for Hetty’s delicate hand. And no Christian Montcalm, to Annelise’s relief.

      At the last minute Annelise had donned one of her discarded lace caps. It flapped down around her face, and while it was irritating, at least it gave her a dubious sense of protection. A woman in a lace cap was proclaiming that she was beyond the age of marriage and that the only gentleman importunate enough to ask her to dance was Mr. Chipple.

      He was easy enough to dissuade and Annelise settled back in her corner amidst the chaperons and widows, gossiping pleasantly as she sipped the glass of punch Mr. Chipple had thoughtfully provided before disappearing in the direction of the card tables.

      She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the man. Chipple looked relieved when she refused his offer of a dance, but the delivery of the punch was a courtesy that was a bit too marked. If he started getting romantic notions she would have to abandon Hetty to her fate after all.

      But then, half the women there seemed to have a great interest in the bluff Josiah. As Lady Prentice had said, money would perfume the stink of the shop quite effectively, and there were any number of widowed ladies casting curious eyes СКАЧАТЬ