by Carla Kelly
* * *
The orangery was situated at some distance from the house itself, behind the south pavilion. It was a large structure, its southern wall consisting entirely of glass and was built originally to house and protect citrus fruits during the winter. It had been enlarged considerably during the early years of the last century in an unsuccessful attempt to cultivate the highly fashionable pineapple, but the very size of the building had made it impossible to heat successfully. Since then the building had returned to its original function, with a few pieces of furniture added so that guests might take their ease on sunny days, and on rare occasions it was used as a ballroom.
As Alex followed the path to the south front of the orangery he saw that the long windows had been opened and sounds of much merriment and childish laughter drifted out to him, overlaid by the melodic sounds of a pianoforte. He remembered Diana writing to tell him that she had asked John Timothy to hire an instrument for the musicians to use at the ball. Perhaps she thought he would baulk at the expense. Perhaps that was her way of paying him back in some measure. Well, let her think that. He had been considering replacing the old harpsichord at Chantreys with a more fashionable keyboard, so if she thought to upset him with her extravagance she would be disappointed.
Alex entered by the side door that led into a small anteroom. It was filled with the odd pieces of furniture that had somehow accumulated in the orangery over the years. They had obviously been moved in preparation for the ball and were swathed in new holland covers. He smiled. That would be Diana’s doing, no one else would have thought it worthwhile to protect the old sofa that had been relegated to the orangery in his father’s day. He slipped quietly into the main room and stood for a moment, enjoying the scene. The orangery had been emptied of all but a few decorative citrus trees in their pots. The walls were freshly painted and the candle sconces had been polished until they shone. The hired pianoforte stood in one corner of the dais at the far end and a woman he had not seen before was playing a lively tune that echoed around the large room, but Alex paid scant heed to the music or the pianist, for it was the little group in the centre of the dais who held his attention. The two French girls, his wards and Diana were all dressed in gowns of gossamer-thin white muslin that stopped well short of the ankle.
He was immediately aware that of the three ladies, Diana’s ankles were by far the most shapely. Meggie and Florence were sitting on the edge of the dais with their backs to him, watching as the two dancers helped Diana to rise on tiptoe. There was a great deal of giggling and laughter as she wobbled and collapsed and tried again, encouraged by her companions. On her last attempt she achieved a very creditable attitude.
Alex could not help himself.
‘Well done,’ he declared, coming forward.
The lady playing the piano stopped suddenly and everyone turned to see who had spoken. Their differing reactions caused him no little amusement. His wards shrieked joyfully and ran towards him while the two French dancers followed, beaming. Only Diana held back, her hands creeping to her cheeks as if trying to cover up the deep blush that had risen to her face. His amusement grew. She would find it difficult to rip up at him now, at least until her confusion had died away.
‘Ah, milord Davenport, welcome, you are just what we need!’ The blonde, whom he remembered was called Suzanne, clapped her hands in delight and gestured him to join them. ‘We are teaching Mademoiselle Grensham to stand sur le demi-pointe, as we do now in ze ballet. Come, come, milord, we need you to play the part of the great Monsieur Vestris.’
‘But I am no dancer,’ protested Alex, laughing as he stepped on to the dais.
‘Tiens, we do not need you to dance,’ explained the brunette, with an impatient toss of her head. ‘Only to ’elp the lady to balance.’
Diana gave a little gasp.
‘No, Chantal, we were not seriously trying to—I do not think—’
‘Stand ’ere, milord,’ Chantal commanded him, ignoring Diana’s breathless protest. ‘You must be behind mademoiselle and place your hands comme ça. Bon.’
Alex was aware of Diana’s alarm but she made no further demur as he took his place behind her. No, she wouldn’t, he thought, not with Meggie and Florence watching, and the two dancers acting as if there was nothing the least unusual in what was happening. He guessed Diana and he were thinking the same thing at that moment, to get this over with and move on with the least possible fuss.
Smiling to show he thought there was nothing amiss, Alex allowed Chantal to take his hands and place them on Diana. Immediately his throat dried and he lost all desire to smile. Her waist was so tiny his fingers almost spanned it. He could feel the soft flesh of her body through the thin layer of fine muslin. With a jolt he realised she was not wearing stays. Of course, he should have known it the moment he saw those diaphanous gowns, they would not be able to dance so freely if they were restricted by stiff linen and whalebone.
It had become very hot and his neckcloth felt far too tight, but he dared not lift a finger to loosen it. He kept silent as the dancers encouraged Diana to rise on tiptoe again. He supported her lightly, but he could feel the smooth curve of her waist as it narrowed beneath her ribcage and his fingers rested on the hard bone of her hips. He wanted to tighten his hold, to pull her close, feel that soft body yield against his own. The mere thought of it sent a jolt of pure lust through him and he struggled to suppress it as everyone applauded Diana’s graceful rise.
‘Very good, mademoiselle. You are très naturelle.’
Diana came down off her toes, Alex removed his hands and she quickly stepped away him.
‘Thank you, Suzanne, but I think you flatter me.’
He heard the slight tremble in her voice and saw her shoulders pull back, as if she was trying to regain her composure.
‘That is enough for today,’ she continued. ‘We should return to the house and change. I have asked Mrs Wallace to prepare a light nuncheon for everyone in the dining room.’
Her voice was much firmer but she was taking all her weight on her right leg, the left foot lifting very slightly. He had not noticed her doing that when he came in. When she was not aware of his presence.
‘You will eat with us, will you not, Uncle Alex?’ said Meggie, coming up.
‘Yes, of course.’ His own voice was a little less sure than usual. He cleared his throat. ‘You had best run on ahead and make sure Fingle has laid a place for me.’
Laughing and chattering, Meggie and Florence set off with the dancers while Diana moved towards the pianoforte where the unknown lady had risen and was packing away her sheet music.
‘Mrs Appleton, thank you for playing for us again today. I am most grateful.’ She cast a fleeting glance towards Alex but did not meet his eyes. ‘Do you know Lord Davenport, ma’am? He is the girls’ guardian. Mrs Appleton lives in the village, my lord, and kindly agreed to play for us.’
Alex murmured a polite response, his attention still distracted by the memory of Diana’s waist beneath his hands. Mrs Appleton blushed and murmured something incoherent, clearly discomposed to be facing an earl and when Diana invited her to remain for nuncheon she accepted with a few more disjointed sentences, then hurried away to the house.
* * *
Diana realised her mistake as soon as Mrs Appleton had left the orangery. She should have accompanied the lady back to the house rather than remain alone with Alex. Why was it that whenever he was near her wits disappeared? He did not look to be best pleased and was no doubt going to rip up at her for something. She eyed him resentfully.
‘I do wish you would give me notice of when you intend to call at Chantreys, my lord.’
His frowning look disappeared.
‘But it is my house, Diana. Besides, if you had known I was coming you might have cancelled your dancing lesson.’
‘I would certainly not have been dress
ed thus,’ she replied frankly, colouring a little. ‘I did not expect to have an audience.’
‘Evidently.’ He grinned. ‘Pray do not feel embarrassed on my account. Shall we go back to the house?’
He held out his arm and Diana placed her fingers upon it. Her body was still thrumming with the memory of his hands on her waist. He had behaved with perfect propriety, his hold had been light, impersonal, just enough to support her, but it had sent excitement fizzing through her blood. Suzanne and Chantal had been perfectly at ease, they saw nothing wrong in being so lightly clad and having a gentleman stand so close, but they were dancers and accustomed to such things. She could only hope her face had not been as red as a beetroot!
‘So,’ said the earl, ‘will our guests have the pleasure of seeing you dance with Meggie and Florence?’
‘Heavens, no. I would not dream of—that is, I was merely...’ She tailed off, wondering miserably how she could explain to him that when she saw them all dancing so freely, not restricted by a corset, she was eager to experience it for herself. And then Chantal had offered to lend her one of her gowns and there had seemed no harm in it... ‘I did not intend for anyone to see me dancing.’
‘I am not just anyone.’
‘Quite true,’ she replied with false sweetness. ‘I have no doubt you are quite accustomed to consorting with dancers and are not at all shocked by their scanty dress.’
‘Oh, I have seen dancers much more scantily clad,’ he replied cheerfully.
Diana bit her lip. He was laughing at her. She wanted to laugh, too, and to retort, but she knew it would be unwise to challenge him further. She must maintain a dignified silence until they reached the house. Instead of thinking of Alex and his teasing ways she would concentrate upon walking, as she had been doing for the past few weeks, trying not to favour the left leg, but to put each heel to the floor with equal weight and prevent the halting, dragging step that has become such a habit.
They entered the hall just as Suzanne and Chantal came skipping down the stairs, their dance dresses replaced by demure muslin gowns. They informed her that the ‘leetle girls’ had gone upstairs with Nurse to be made tidy in readiness for their nuncheon.
Diana nodded. ‘Thank you. If you would all like to go into the dining room I will fetch Meggie and Florence and join you shortly.’
‘What,’ Alex murmured wickedly as she released his arm, ‘you would leave me alone with these charming young creatures? Is that wise?’
‘I shall have to trust you to behave yourself.’ Diana stepped over to the dining-room door and threw it open, adding with a mischievous smile, ‘And in case you forget yourself, my lord, we have Mrs Appleton and Mr Timothy here to keep you in order.’
* * *
When their repast was finished the party broke up. Mr Timothy offered to drive Mrs Appleton back to the village while Chantal and Suzanne took the girls off to the gardens. Diana was about to leave the room when Alex stopped her.
‘I thought we might go through the guest list for the ball.’
‘I sent you the full list last week, my lord.’
‘But you will have had more replies to the invitations since then.’
Bowing to the inevitable, Diana led him to a small room that had been furnished as a study. She pulled a large ledger from the desk. Alex walked over to the window, which gave a good view of the flower gardens.
‘My wards appear to be on the best of terms with the mademoiselles.’
‘I told you as much in my letter, sir.’
‘I thought you wrote that merely to punish me for my impudence in sending them here.’
Diana laughed. ‘I confess I was at first nonplussed that you should do so, but they assured me they are not opera dancers, but respectable members of the French ballet.’ She added shrewdly, ‘I also suspect they are being paid very well.’
‘True, but you have promised my guests theatricals and I would not have them disappointed.’
‘Meggie and Florence are learning a ballad to sing and they have a very pretty dance to perform. They will not let you down.’
Alex turned from the window. ‘And what will you be doing?’
‘Me? Why nothing. I am merely their governess.’
‘You are my hostess,’ he reminded her. ‘And while I think of it, I hope you now have sufficient new gowns for the occasion?’
Diana thought of the cupboards and the linen press in her room, all full to overflowing.
‘More than sufficient, sir, as Madame Francot’s bills will attest. There is only the ballgown yet to be delivered. Madame was dissatisfied with the colour and had to order more material.’
‘And are they very daring? Madame Francot is renowned for her dashy dresses.’
She saw the teasing light in his eyes and it was an effort not to reply in kind, but that was a slippery slope. It was better to keep him at a distance, to keep her dignity.
‘I think you will find they are appropriate to the occasion.’
He was smiling at her and, oh, how she wanted to give in, to confess how much she had enjoyed looking at the silks and muslins with the modiste, who had insisted she choose gowns for all occasions, for dancing, walking, riding or merely looking elegant. Very much like a débutante preparing for her first Season. At least she assumed that is how it must feel, although she had never been in that position herself. If only she could tell Alex, but it was not possible. He might laugh at her. Worse, he might pity her. Quickly she thrust the open ledger at him.
‘Here is the list of everyone invited to the ball, my lord, and you will see there is a mark against those who have accepted. There are very few replies still outstanding.’
She sat down in the window while Alex took a seat at the desk and perused the list. It gave her an opportunity to look at him, to observe the unruly dark hair that fell forward as he leaned over the page. Chantal and Suzanne had said they thought him handsome. She did not consider him so, but she was forced to admit there was something attractive about him. Perhaps it was a combination of his strong, rugged features, the mobile mouth that would curve suddenly into a smile and those slate-grey eyes that could pierce her soul.
She dragged her eyes away and realised she had almost let out a sigh. If she had been a débutante, young and naïve, she might have pined for his good opinion, tried to win his regard, but she was a woman of two-and-twenty, governess and guardian to two young girls. Such dreams were pointless. Alex knew her flaws, he had seen the ugly scar on her leg and he found her small and unattractive. She could not possibly compare with all the beautiful ladies he knew. Beauties like Frances Betsford.
Diana felt a sudden chill and rubbed her arms. He had seen her naked when she had climbed from the lake and now he had seen her dressed in the short skirts of a dancer. If it had been possible to enflame him then one of those scenarios should have done the trick, but they had not. On both occasions he had acted with humour, with kindness, but never with passion.
No? Then what about the kisses?
She fixed her eyes on the far horizon. The first time had been the result of much wine. It was well known that men could not control themselves when they had been drinking. It was a lowering thought that a man could only find her attractive if he was drunk. She thought of that second, searing embrace in the moonlight. He had broken away as soon as she had resisted. Very commendable, but it clearly showed he only thought of her as a passing fancy.
‘Hmm?’ Alex looked up. ‘Did you say something, Diana?’
‘N-no.’ She shook her head. ‘I said nothing. I beg your pardon if I disturbed you.’
‘It does not matter, I have finished with this.’ He closed the book. ‘So, you have everything arranged. Is there anything you need me to do?’
‘I do not think so. The ball is organised, the musicians engaged, Mrs Wallace is already turni
ng out all the guest rooms. Mr Timothy is on hand to help with any last-minute crises.’
‘And you have allocated the rooms?’
She nodded. ‘As you instructed.’ She threw off the last shreds of melancholy and allowed herself a small smile. ‘You have nothing to do but to arrive with your guests, my lord.’
‘Excellent. John Timothy told me you managed everything very well.’
‘Yes, in spite of your attempts to throw me into a panic.’
‘You gave me my own again on every occasion.’
‘I shall take that as a compliment, my lord.’
‘Yes, do so!’ He hesitated, looking as if he would like to say more, but after a moment he seemed to change his mind. He pushed himself out of his chair. ‘I must go.’
‘Yes.’
Diana wished she could find some way to keep him there longer, but what good would that achieve, save to delay the inevitable parting? She rose. ‘Will you find Meggie and Florence? They will be unhappy if you leave without saying goodbye.’
‘Yes, I’ll find them. I hope all this planning will mean you are able to enjoy yourself once the guests arrive.’
‘Of course, although you must understand that I will not neglect the girls.’
‘I would not expect you to do so, but Nurse is perfectly capable of looking after them while you fulfil your duties as my hostess.’
‘I trust I shall not disappoint you, sir.’ She said, unable to resist, ‘But tell me the truth! Did you suggest this whole thing—the house party, the ball and the idea of my being your hostess—was it all done in the hope I should take fright and remove from Chantreys?’
‘Do you think me capable of such a thing?’
‘Why, yes,’ she said frankly. ‘I do.’
He smiled.
‘I said you were a worthy opponent, Diana. Very well.’ He shrugged. ‘I admit that was my intention, to intimidate you with the idea of a large party and a ball. It was reprehensible of me and I beg your pardon.’
