The Brigadier's Daughter. Catherine March

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СКАЧАТЬ paused for a moment amidst the hubbub as her sisters chattered and looked eagerly about. Her glance fell to the dance card clasped in her white-gloved fingers. Wistfully she wondered if any gentleman would actually put his name down, or if once again she would be so busy chaperoning her sisters and dancing with her father to have time to dance with anyone else. Most likely she would be overlooked as the gentlemen made their choices elsewhere amongst the vast bevy of lovely and well-bred young ladies present. Unobtrusively she slipped the card into the tasselled reticule dangling from her wrist, and then looked up, with a well-trained smile fixed on her soft mouth.

      The ballroom was indeed a magnificent sight, proof that Lady Westfaling had spent a good deal of money and employed numerous people to transform it into a Christmas wonderland. To one side, halfway down the vast room, stood a twenty-foot Scots pine, brought in from their own estate in Scotland, and decorated with red-and-gold baubles, ribbons, gingerbreads and tiny candles. The smell of the pine and ginger was very pleasant, refreshing the somewhat heavy atmosphere emanating from the odour of perfumed ladies and sweating gentlemen. Sasha breathed in the scent as they moved to examine the decorations, the orchestra playing discreetly in the background before the dancing began. She glanced at the garlands of holly and wreaths and ribbons festooned about the walls, and the brightly sparkling chandeliers that lit up the room so beautifully.

      ‘Who is that?’ Georgia murmured suddenly in her ear.

      ‘Hmm?’ Sasha turned as her sister’s urgent fingers dug into her elbow, looking in the direction of a gentleman greeting Lady Westfaling. He was handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, his ash-brown hair flecked with blond and his face unusually suntanned. Sasha turned away. ‘I have no idea, but do stop gaping, before Papa notices. Oh, look, Felix is about to mark your dance card.’

      ‘How wonderful to see you, Reid,’ Lady Westfaling greeted her guest, her glance slightly disapproving, ‘but not in uniform?’

      Captain Bowen bowed. ‘My apologies, Lady Westfaling. I am on leave, added to which my uniform is sadly shabby. A friend has made me the loan of his tails for the evening.’

      Her glance now admiring as she took in the wide set of his shoulders and the expanse of white shirt tapering to a flat stomach beneath a white waistcoat, Lady Westfaling murmured, ‘You must introduce me to your friend; from his clothing he seems to be a fine figure of a man.’

      Taken aback, Reid narrowed his dark blue eyes as he took the measure of his hostess and swiftly retreated, moving on to extend his hand to her husband further down the line, casting a wry glance to his Uncle Percy over one shoulder.

      ‘Jolly good to have you back, Bowen,’ Lord Westfaling declared. ‘Take no notice of the old gel, she’s always had an eye for good-looking chaps, that’s why she married me!’ He laughed, but there was a note of warning in his tone. ‘All talk and no action, I can assure you.’

      ‘Of course,’ Reid murmured, practising his diplomatic skills by adding, ‘I have spent so long out in the field that I have forgotten how…charming ladies can be.’

      ‘Indeed. Now then, what’s this I hear about a promotion? Congratulations!’

      ‘Thank you.’ He accepted another handshake.

      ‘Must introduce you to our good friend Packard, Army man himself before a damn Abyssinian spear crippled his knee. How’s your Russian?’

      ‘Oh, Avery!’ cried Lady Westfaling, ‘Do stop nattering, you’re holding things up!’

      The guests were merging in a crowd about the steps, forcing his lordship to curtail his conversation and usher them on, with the proviso, ‘Percy, bring him to the library, soon as I’ve got this damned dancing on the go.’

      ‘Avery!’

      They walked away, Uncle Percy purloining glass flutes of golden champagne from a passing waiter, and raising one to toast his nephew. ‘Here’s to the future Mrs Bowen.’

      Reid hesitated before he sipped his champagne, glancing around at the crowded ballroom and the dazzling array of women in evening gowns and glittering jewellery. ‘I must confess, Uncle, that I feel a touch nervous. I would rather be facing a hundred screaming tribesmen pouring down the Hindu Kush than entangle myself with any of these mamas and their offspring.’

      ‘Oh, pish! Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ Uncle Percy finished his glass with a flourish and narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the room with a discreet yet discerning eye. ‘Let’s take a wander round. My advice would be to select two or three young ladies, a few dances, a little light conversation, then leave it at that for the time being. There are plenty more balls and parties between now and New Year.’

      Reid laughed wryly. ‘Sounds to me as though you have the whole campaign well planned. Is this to be a full-frontal, noisy attack? Or a covert, silent offensive?’

      ‘My dear boy, do not be facetious!’

      ‘Speaking of time, I had a letter this morning from the Defence Secretary to say that my posting has been brought forwards. So I shall be leaving for Russia at the end of April.’

      ‘Damn me!’ Uncle Percy muttered. ‘It would have to be a whirlwind courtship, then.’

      ‘I am reluctant to rush into anything.’

      ‘So you have said. For the past ten years. Neither of us is getting any younger, you know.’ He paused, and lowered his chin as he murmured, ‘Now, there’s a girl you may want to get to know, Araminta Cunningham-Ellis. Well bred, elegant, plenty of money.’

      Reid snorted, helping himself to another glass of champagne. ‘I may not be rich, but I have enough money of my own, thank you.’ He glanced carefully sideways at the strawberry blonde in question. ‘She’s rather tall, for a girl.’

      They both gazed upon Araminta, Uncle Percy with frank admiration and Reid with amusement. ‘Come along,’ he urged his uncle, nudging his elbow, ‘before her mama cuffs you with that enormous fan she’s brandishing.’

      ‘Can’t see what you’re complaining about,’ Uncle Percy muttered. ‘Perfect breeding stock for sons—’ He coughed and cleared his throat as an elderly gentleman stepped into his path. ‘Good evening, Hallam, is it not a splendid do?’

      They paused for a few moments in polite conversation and then moved onwards, Uncle Percy pointing out several more eligible females along the way. To his disappointment, and frustration, his nephew seemed little impressed and he could not persuade him to make any introductions. At last they came to the raised dais leading to open French doors and the verandah beyond. They mounted the steps on the pretext of taking in a breath of fresh air, yet from their elevated position they now had a perfect view of the ballroom. Uncle Percy looked towards four young ladies dressed in simple yet charming green, red and cream evening gowns, blending in with the Christmas theme.

      ‘Now you couldn’t go far wrong with one of Packard’s gels, all of them splendid creatures. And very useful, too, being fluent in French and Russian. Georgia, the one in the green dress, is the prettiest, and about the right age, I would say.’

      ‘How old is she?’

      ‘Almost twenty-one.’

      Reid glanced discreetly, and had to admit that Georgia Packard was indeed very lovely, the sort of girl he would be attracted to and the sort of blonde, beautiful girl that in the СКАЧАТЬ