Caught in Scandal's Storm. Helen Dickson

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СКАЧАТЬ the money and Duncan Forbes would reveal all.

      Her nerves were strung tight and she was in no mood for socialising. She could not wait for the night to be over.

      * * *

      Alice was right. The weather did not deter the guests from arriving. An unending line of carriages filled the circular drive and overflowed through the double gates into the neighbouring streets, lined with big private houses. To be invited to the Countess of Marchington’s ball was an honour, a true mark of distinction.

      The grooming and dressing preparations for her engagement ball took Roberta, her maid and Alice three hours. Adorned in a chiffon gown with an overskirt dusted with shimmering silver spangles, her hair brushed until it shone and arranged in soft brown curls high on her head, she resembled a fairy princess.

      Alice stood back to survey their handiwork and smiled. ‘There! All done. You’re looking as radiant and as beautiful as the bride you will be in just a few weeks!’

      Lady Marchington swept into the room, wearing an elegant russet-and-gold satin gown trimmed in cream lace. ‘Nearly everyone has arrived,’ she announced as Roberta’s maid finished putting the last touches to her coiffure. ‘It’s time to make your grand entrance, Roberta.’

      Roberta faced her aunt obediently, but her knees were trembling. ‘I would much rather have stood in the receiving line with you, Aunt Margaret, so I could meet the guests separately. It would have been less nerve-racking.’

      ‘But not nearly so effective. Come along—you, too, Alice,’ she said, casting a critical eye over the young woman standing by the vanity, her shining black hair caught up at the crown in a mass of thick, glossy curls entwined with ropes of tiny pearls. Roberta was lovely, but Alice was the acknowledged beauty of the two. Tonight no one would have eyes for anyone but her.

      Footmen dressed in formal, claret-velvet livery trimmed with gold braid stood to attention in the hall, which resembled a flower garden and smelled just as sweet, with tall silver stands holding urns of freshly delivered flowers and exotic pots of airy ferns. So as not to take the shine off Roberta’s entrance as she walked beside Lady Marchington, stiff with pride, Alice followed in her wake. Simpson stood at the entrance to the ballroom and announced her name in stentorian tones.

      A lightning bolt of anticipation seemed to shoot through the crowd, breaking off conversations as three hundred guests turned in unison to look at the girl who, it was rumoured, had stolen the heart of Viscount Pemberton. But the majority looked beyond the pretty brown-haired girl with her shining eyes focused on the young man striding to her side, to feast their eyes on the exotic, raven-haired goddess beside her, a young woman who had fled Paris to escape a scandal of her own making according to the gossips. Alice was dressed in a shimmering gown of sapphire watered silk decorated with serpentine ruched robings on the stomacher, the sleeve ruffles in matching lace fabric. The fashionable style was elegant, the colour matching her lustrous deep-blue eyes.

      Indeed tonight she was breathtakingly beautiful. The slender rope of diamonds that adorned her throat flashed with white fire as she stepped into the glittering light of the ballroom, rousing an answering flash of envy in the eyes of every woman present and of their male escorts, too. But the gentlemen’s desires were bent as much on the wearer and the perfection of her smooth features as on her diamond necklace. And yet if one troubled to look harder, they would see something at once remote and detached in the attitude of this dazzling creature, an indifference to her surroundings that was almost melancholy.

      When everyone was present, Simpson stepped towards the Countess and called for attention. Conversations broke off and guests slowly turned to their hostess.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said in an unsurprisingly carrying voice, ‘I have the very great honour of announcing the betrothal tonight of my niece, Roberta Hislop, to Viscount Pemberton. I ask you to raise your glasses to the happy couple. I will ask them to do us the honour of performing their first formal duty as future husband and wife by officially opening our ball.’

      Simpson signalled to the musicians in the gallery with a nod of his head to start the music. It was a happy crowd that watched the handsome Viscount Pemberton take Roberta’s hand and lead her on to the dance floor to begin the dancing. Scrupulously polished mirrors around the opulent ballroom reflected the dazzling couple as they danced before some of London’s richest and most influential people.

      Alice watched them, moved by the happiness she saw shining from Roberta’s eyes as she upturned her face to that of her betrothed, which only emphasised her own miserable state. She was seized by a longing to run away. It was a primitive urge, a legacy perhaps from some long-dead ancestor. It was not cowardice—she was not afraid to face her troubles—but rather a need to hide her feelings from prying eyes and seek her own cure in silence and solitude.

      * * *

      The betrothal banquet was excellent. Only the very finest food was served, with many of the dishes so elaborately dressed that they were viewed and commented on before they were finally tasted. Huge ice sculptures of peacocks and swans formed centrepieces for the tables.

      ‘Magnificent!’ exclaimed one of the guests. ‘A spread fit for royalty.’

      ‘And suitable for the betrothal of the Countess of Marchington’s niece to the grand Viscount Pemberton,’ another murmured.

      Above the ballroom Italian-crystal chandeliers twinkled and turned, their lights reflected in fancy glassware, ice sculptures and glittering jewellery. With extravagance the order of the night and with an army of servants dancing attendance on the guests, the hours of wining and dining succeeded in their objective of producing a truly unforgettable night.

      Alice smiled and laughed, drank some wine and chatted with a group of ladies. She danced with several dashing young men who asked her and made polite conversation, sat through supper with an admirer and danced some more and listened to her partners’ words of admiration. She even managed to keep smiling when one ardent gentleman who had consumed too much wine whispered lewd suggestions in her ear.

      He was not the only man present who did not look at her for her wealth, who stared with a lustfulness that sickened her to her soul. She saw with a feeling of horror men who skulked about the edges of the room, now moving in on her like rats after the only morsel of food. As a result of the damage Philippe had done to her reputation, were these the only type of men she could attract now, men who would flaunt her at their sides like a trophy for all to view and envy?

      When she could stand it no longer, seeking out Lady Marchington and pleading a headache, she quietly left the ballroom and went upstairs to her room where she could close her eyes and let the darkness hide her.

      She felt suddenly very tired. The nervous tension she had lived under since her meeting with Duncan Forbes had left her feeling drained, longing for nothing but the peace and sanctuary of her own room. Closing the door behind her, she crossed to one of the two French windows opening on to balconies with wrought-iron balustrades overlooking the garden. She pulled back the long curtains.

      It had stopped snowing. The sky was still and bright with stars, the fountain and stone statues in the shrouded garden etched with a silvery glow. It was a night made for lovers and Alice sighed at the persistent twists of fate by which she, whom so many men desired, seemed doomed to everlasting loneliness because of her disastrous affair with Philippe, which had made her unwilling to become close to any other man.

      Abruptly she turned her back on the night. She snuffed out the candles on the mantelpiece, leaving the room with no other light than the soft glow shed by the small lamps placed at the bedside. The room, with СКАЧАТЬ