by Mary Balogh
"Would you care to dance, Diana?"
"I have promised this set to Mr. Peabody."
The marquess and Diana spoke simultaneously.
"Ah," Lord Kenwood said, with that gleam in his eye that always made Diana feel indignant—except when she had started to like it for a few mad days. "Perhaps the next set?"
"It is promised to Ernest," she said.
"Hm." He looked at her assessingly, a definite curl to his lip as the earl led his wife away. "And if I keep on going, will there be a partner for each dance, Diana? If so, do tell me now. I shall feel remarkably foolish repeating the words 'Perhaps the next?' a dozen times."
"The set after is free," she said, looking coolly about her.
"It is rather pointless trying to look like an ice maiden in present company, don't you think, Diana?" the marquess asked. He sounded amused, she was irritated to hear. "One is reminded of the man who shut the proverbial stable doors after the horse had fled."
He was toying with the handle of his quizzing glass. If he dared raise it ... If he just dared!
He raised it to his eye.
"Ah," he said, "I see the smallest indication of anger now that you are magnified threefold. That is better, I see your swain is on the way to claim your hand. Is there to be an announcement later? Mrs. Diana Peabody. Not quite as distinguished as Mrs. Diana Ingram, perhaps, but not disastrous."
Diana gave him as cold and as dignified a look as she was capable of before turning to smile at Mr. Peabody.
15
During dinner and the first few sets of the ball, no guest was merrier than Angela Wickenham. Almost all the young gentlemen guests at Rotherham Hall were attentive, and so were Mr. Simon Pierce and other young men of the neighborhood. It was all a dream come true, considering the fact that she was only just eighteen and had not yet tasted any other adult entertainments.
She did not want to dance with Lord Crensford. She hated him. He was stuffy and bad-tempered, and he had never made any secret of his dislike and contempt for her. The farther she was from him, the happier she would be.
And he was really not so very handsome after all. In fact, he was not handsome at all. He had just looked so to her fourteen-year-old eyes when she had come for Claudia's wedding. And he had remained so in her imagination for the four years since. But if she looked at him objectively now, she could see that there were at least half a dozen gentlemen in the ballroom who were more handsome than he. Perhaps even a dozen.
She did not want to dance with him. But it was one thing not to want to do so and quite another not to be given a chance to do so. Lord Crensford did not come near her during the first three sets, and after that it was perfectly clear to her that he had no intention of doing so. She was not to have the satisfaction of refusing him.
When he danced with Diana, her determined merriment broke like a bubble. They were so obviously fond of each other. It was there in the eyes of both of them as they talked and smiled at each other. And Mrs. Ingram was so very lovely and graceful. And Lord Crensford never frowned at her or looked contemptuous or disapproving. He was in love with her.
"My dear." The Earl of Rotherham smiled apologetically down at Angela. "I fear I am not as young as I used to be. I shall have to sit down for a while. It is so very warm in here. I fear we are going to have a storm. Let me find you another partner to finish the set with you."
"Oh no, thank you," she said, smiling brightly up at him and wrinkling her nose.' 'I shall be very thankful for a short rest too, my lord. I am going to stand over by the windows and breathe in some fresh air."
But it was not so much the fresh air that she needed as a few minutes of solitude, a few minutes in which to collect herself. She stood to the side of one open doorway, half hidden by the heavy velvet drapery, and felt a raw ache at the back of her throat. She wanted to cry, she realized. For all the great popularity and success the evening was bringing her she felt a terrible loneliness.
"Sometimes the noise and the crush and the gaiety are almost overwhelming, are they not?" the Countess of Rotherham asked from beside her. She smiled in such a kindly way that Angela almost gave vent to her tears. "Do you know what I always do when I feel that way?"
Angela shook her head.
The countess chuckled. "I escape for a short time," she said. "Not long enough for anyone to remark upon my absence, but quite long enough for me to recover my spirits and come back here to enjoy myself again."
Angela smiled.
"Ah, you are so very young," the countess said, the bracelets on her arm jingling as she lifted it to touch Angela's cheek. "You have all the young gentlemen falling all over themselves for you. And that is as it should be. But you are feeling bewildered, I can see. Shall I tell you the very best place to hide out?"
"Where, ma'am?" Angela asked.
"The greenhouses," the countess said. "They are close enough to the house that you do not have to take anyone with you. Yet they are quiet and warm and full of lovely plants." She patted Angela on the arm. "Take a lantern with you if you go, my dear."
She looked up to the sky outside and moved away to mingle among her other guests, but she kept an eye on the forlorn little figure half hidden behind the draperies. Angela stood there for a while, looked toward her mother, who was sitting and talking with a small group of ladies, and disappeared out onto the terrace. The countess smiled and looked assessingly to Lord Crensford and Diana, who were still dancing together.
But Angela did not head toward the greenhouses. She darted around to the front of the house and through the open doors, ran upstairs to fetch a warm shawl, and slipped outside again. A few tears spilled over onto her cheeks, but she dashed them impatiently away with the back of one hand.
She looked uncertainly about her in the night, which was not at all dark, hesitated, and then made off at a brisk pace in the direction of the castle.
* * *
The countess made no move while that particular set continued or afterward while Lord Crensford and Diana were joined by Lord Kenwood. She waited until the marquess had led Diana onto the floor for the next set before hurrying across the room to her son.
"I hope you have not engaged anyone for the next set, Ernest, dear," she said, laying one hand on his arm.
"Not yet," he said, looking at her in some surprise. "Would you care to dance it with me, Mama?"
"Not really, dear," she said. "I am worried about Angela."
"Miss Wickenham?" He frowned.
"She has gone off to the greenhouses in tears," she said.
"In tears?" His frown deepened. "But she has been enjoying herself immensely. There has been no getting close to her. Who has insulted her? Just name him, Mama, and I'll deal with him."
She lowered her voice and patted his arm. "I think it is you, dear," she said. "Not that you have insulted her. But you have neglected her."
"Neglected her?" He looked indignant. "She doesn't want anything to do with me, Mama. She told me so."
"Oh, Ernest," she said, looking reproachfully at him. "When will you learn that ladies very often say the opposite of what they mean? The girl has a painful tendré for you, my dear."
Lord Crensford merely stared at her.
"This is her first ball," she said, "and she has had all the gentlemen flocking around her. All except the one she really wants. Go to her, Ernest. Bring her back and dance with her."
"If she has gone to the greenhouses, Mama," he said, "it is because she wants to be alone. It would not be right for me to disturb her there. Especially if she is unchaperoned. Perhaps you should go to her."
"Ernest!'' His mother had an unusual note of impatience in her voice. "It is time you learned something of women, my dear. You are eight-and-twenty years old. Women like to be pursued. Women like occasionally to be caught without their chaperones. Now go to her."
"But, Mama," he said, "what about my feelings? What if I don't have any kind of a tendre for her?" ~~"Ernest!" she said loudly enough for Mrs. Pierce and Lady K
nowles to look up in some surprise.
"Very well, Mama," Lord Crensford said. "I am going. Now." He walked around the edge of the dance floor and disappeared through the French windows.
The countess nodded and smiled at those of her guests who were not dancing and waited a few minutes before laying a hand on the Marquess of Kenwood's sleeve as he waltzed past.
"Jack, Diana," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "I need to talk to you without delay. Outside the door."
Lord Kenwood looked inquiringly at Diana as the countess swept away. He raised his eyebrows, took Her by the elbow, and followed his hostess from the room.
"Dears," she said when they stood in the deserted hallway outside the ballroom, the doors firmly shut, "I am so sorry to spoil your fun, but I am afraid I had to." One ringed hand was spread across her bosom.
"Mama?" Diana reached out to touch her arm. "What is it? What has happened?"
"Angela has disappeared," the countess said, and her trembling hand came up to cover her mouth.
"Disappeared?" The marquess frowned. "She has probably wandered outside or up to her room."
The countess shook her head. "No," she said. "Ernest and I have searched. Ernest has gone to look in the greenhouses and down on the lower lawn and in the orchard. But I have just realized where she must be."
Her two listeners were all attention.
''She must have gone down to the river and the pavilion,'' the countess said. "She likes the pavilion."
"But why would she have wandered so far alone?" Diana asked.
The countess clucked her tongue. "She and Ernest had a silly quarrel," she said, "and the girl is upset. You must go down there, the two of you, and bring her back. I am almost beside myself with worry."
"Should not Mrs. Wickenham or Clarence be told, Mama?" Diana suggested.
"Heaven forbid, my dear," me countess said. "She is such a young and impulsive young lady, and they would be sure to scold her. I would not wish anything to happen to spoil this evening. No, you must go, if you please."
"I shall go alone," the marquess said briskly. "Diana can stay here. I shall be back with Miss Wickenham before you know it."
"No." The countess reached out a hand to stay him. "It would be most improper, Jack, for Angela to be alone with you. Diana must go too. You do not mind, dear? You will do it for me?"
"Of course, Mama," Diana said after only a moment's hesitation.
"Run upstairs for a shawl, then," the countess said, "while Jack fetches a lantern. But don't delay, dears. I shall not know a moment's rest until I see the three of you back here safe and sound again."
She saw them on their way through a side door a few minutes later, and stood for a while watching the lantern sway into the distance. She glanced up to the sky in some anxiety, but she was smiling with satisfaction before turning back into the house. It would not be long before the rain came down.
* * *
"Diana," the Marquess of Kenwood said, "this is hardly the time to play prudish lady, my dear. Cling more firmly to my arm, would you? I would hate to lose you in a rabbit hole."
They both wore warm cloaks. The wind was getting up and the air growing chill.
"What would have possessed Angela to come out here alone?" Diana asked.
Lord Kenwood glanced down at her. ''I don't for a moment believe she did," he said.
She frowned. "You mean you think there is someone with her?"
"You are very obtuse, Diana," he said. "I mean, I think we are being sent on a wild goose chase, my dear."
"A wild . . . ?" Diana hauled back on his arm. "You mean the countess is sending us out here knowing very well that Angela is somewhere else?"
''It would not be so very out of character for the Countess of Rotherham, would if?" he asked. "She has been trying to throw us together for two weeks, Diana. The past two days must have sent her into near despair. It was clearly time for desperate measures."
"But this is outrageous," Diana said indignantly. "You mean she is encouraging something as improper as you and me being at the pavilion together in the middle of the night?''
"Shocking, is it not?" he agreed. "Especially when the rain is going to start lashing down at any moment. And I do believe that was lightning I saw in the distance. If we are very quiet and listen very hard, I would wager we will hear the thunder too."
Diana drew altogether to a halt. "I am going back right now," she said. "I will not be manipulated like this, no matter how clever the countess and you think you have been."
"I?" he said. "You think I am a fellow conspirator? You malign me, Diana. Even I do not have a mind so fiendish."
"However it is," she said, "I am going back. Are you coming with me to light my way?"
"No, I am not,'' he said,' 'and neither are you. Do I have to explain to you just how fiendish your mother-in-law has been, Diana? We dare not go back, you see. Perhaps Miss Wickenham really is all alone out there. And the night has darkened since she came out here, and the rain is about to come on. And the rest of the storm. We cannot risk calling the countess's bluff now, can we?"
Diana stood staring at him, lost for words. The wind whipped her cloak about her legs. The marquess held out his own cloak to protect the flame of the lantern.
"I suggest we move on," he said. "And fast. Cring to my arm, Diana. I am afraid I need both hands to cope with this lantern."
Diana clung. "But we are coming right back as soon as we see that Angela is not there,'' she said just as a giant drop of rain splashed onto her forehead and ran down her nose.
"I somehow doubt it," he said as they hurried in among the trees and toward the river. "The heavens are about to open. I think you must prepare for a wicked night of sin with me, Mrs. Ingram. We seem to have a habit of getting ourselves into such situations during rain storms, do we not?"
* * *
"Mama." Lord Crensford tapped his mother on the shoulder as she was talking with some guests. He smiled and nodded to them. "May I have a word with you?"
She looked beyond his shoulder, saw that he was alone, smiled back at her guests, and took his arm.
"Where is Angela?"
"Where is Miss Wickenham?"
Their questions, when they were safely outside the ballroom, were simultaneous.
"She is not in the greenhouses," he said. "Did she not come back?"
She stared at him blankly for a moment. "She must have gone to her room," she said. "I will go up and see, dear."
"While you do so," Lord Crensford said, "I will check the downstairs rooms, Mama. Did she say she was going to the greenhouses?"
"In so many words she did,'' the countess said distractedly as she hurried away. Lord Crensford did not call her back to explain the strangeness of her words.
A fifteen-minute search of the house did nothing to solve the mystery of the missing Angela Wickenham.
"Oh, dear me," the countess said, a hand to her throat. "Wherever can she be, Ernest? There is a storm coming on outside."
"You said she was upset, Mama?" Lord Crensford said, frowning. "Where would she go if she were upset? She is not in her room. She is not with her mama or with Claudia. Let me think."
''Are you quite sure she was not hiding in one of the greenhouses?" she asked.
Lord Crensford did not answer her. He was frowning in concentration. "It is going to storm, you say?" he asked. "A stormy night. There was something about a stormy night." He pressed four fingers to his forehead. "Oh, Lord! She wouldn't do that, would she? She wouldn't do that!"
"Do what?" The countess sounded genuinely distraught.
''She has gone to the castle to throw herself off the battlements," Lord Crensford announced before breaking into a run.
"Ernest, are you mad?" his mother shouted after him. "She would never go to the castle all alone."
"I'm going to ride there," he called back. "I'll overtake her. And wring her neck."
The countess was left standing, both hands pressed to her mouth. What was she to
do? There seemed to be precious little she could do. She turned back to the ballroom in some dread.
Yet after she had assembled the earl and Mrs. Wickenham and Clarence and Claudia in an anteroom, they all seemed to think the situation far less disastrous than she had thought. And Claudia laughed openly at Ernest's fear that Angela had gone to the castle to throw herself to her death.
"I can fully believe that she has gone to the castle," she said, "though it was a very foolish thing to do when there is a storm approaching. She has gone there to dream about the romance of it all, doubtless."
