A Lady of Talent by Evelyn Richardson Page B

remain emotionally aloof from the crowd. And as they approached, Sebastian noticed from his partner’s self-satisfied smile that even though Cecilia’s gown of pink satin trimmed with blond lace was exceedingly becoming, it must not be in the latest style.
    Barbara, who could always be counted on to be in the highest kick of fashion, was wearing a white satin slip over a white lace dress whose décolletage made Cecilia’s look positively modest, while her headdress of pearls was in decided contrast to Cecilia’s simple knot of hair with only the golden curls clustering on her forehead to call attention to her expressive eyes.
    Still and all, though there was no doubt, as always, that Barbara was stunning in her beauty, there was a vulnerable yet sensual quality about Cecilia that made Sebastian long to hold her in his arms, feel the softness of her hair against his cheek and the warmth of her skin under his hands. Perhaps it was the very lack of ornamentation that made him so supremely aware of the woman underneath—the smoothness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, the delicacy of her long, tapering fingers as she brushed aside a stray curl and surveyed the crowd with the distant gaze of someone who clearly felt herself to be an observer rather than a participant in the fashionable charade taking place around her.
    Sebastian grinned in spite of himself as a wave of relief washed over him. He had found a friend, someone who was as ill at ease, as bored, and as frustrated with the entire scene as he was. And quite suddenly the air did not feel so claustrophobically stuffy or the laughter and the chatter so irritatingly intrusive as it had only moments ago.
    “You did say that you had promised a dance to Shelburne, did you not,” he asked hopefully as their set ended.
    Barbara nodded.
    “And here he is. I feel certain that I can convince his sister to sit the set out with me while the two of you take to the floor.” And with all the aplomb of a man who knew how to go about getting whatever he set his sights on, the Earl of Charrington guided his fiancée easily through the crush of people, who were so intent on hearing the conversations of their neighbors or casting critical eyes on the costumes of those around them, that they parted easily in front of him without even being aware that they did so.
     

Chapter Twelve
     
    “Miss Wyatt, your éclat this evening casts all others into the deepest shadow.” Neville greeted Barbara and her fiancé with the most elegant of bows. “Truly, Charrington, you are the envy of every man here. I predict that in no time at all your wife-to-be will become one of the high priestesses of fashion, and you will find yourself looking longingly back on the days when you were able to lead her to the floor without being crowded aside by scores of eager aspirants.”
    “La, my lord, you are far too gallant.” Barbara’s gratified smile betrayed her to be in complete agreement with Neville’s gracefully articulated sentiments.
    “Then I must take advantage of this opportunity to lead you to the floor, for once I have done so and the ton has seen you with a partner who does you justice, I shall never be able to do so again without having to fight for the privilege.” He held out his arm to her and she took it happily.
    Sebastian’s lips quivered as he glanced over at Cecilia. But the Marquess of Shelburne’s sister was made of sterner stuff. Years of listening to her brother’s idle chatter had inured her to even his most outrageous compliments. She merely raised a quizzical eyebrow as she murmured, “That is praise indeed, even from Neville, for he sets the very highest of standards, you know. It took the greatest act of courage on his part to enter these hallowed portals holding the arm of a woman whose gown is quite two years out of date.”
    Sebastian chuckled. “I am impressed that he convinced her to make her appearance here at all.”
    Cecilia made a moue of disgust.