Lord Edgewood swaggered into view.
"Miss Langland, this dance is promised to me, I collect?" He laid a proprietary hand on Briony's arm and returned Lord Ravensworth's baleful glare.
"Do excuse us, my dear chap, but your, er , cousin filled me in on her card." His tone was faintly mocking.
For the first time, Ravensworth observed the card which Briony was clutching convulsively in her hands. He snatched it from her grasp and saw that there were four vacant spots on it. He filled his own name in each one of them without so much as a by-your-leave, knowing quite well that more than two dances would proclaim to the watching world that he had as much as engaged himself to the lady. He thrust it back into her shaking hands and, clicking his heels punctiliously, turned his back on her and her admiring cicisbeo.
Harriet's eyes scanned the dancers, searching for a glimpse of her elusive cousin. It had been, she thought with a sigh of satisfaction, an evening of notable success for Briony. She took vicarious pleasure in her cousin's triumph. Briony had been the most-sought-after deb at the ball. The young men were wild for her and had dogged her heels the whole night through. Harriet glanced sideways at her companion. The devotion of this one gentleman who was escorting her round the perimeter of the ballroom would have satisfied her modest ambitions, but Avery had become an enigma to het. He was constant but distant in his attentions. Harriet's eyes roved back to the dance floor.
"I say, Avery," she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, "isn't that Ravensworth partnering Briony again? That's the third time this evening. What is he up to? He will compromise her if he shows her such singular attention," said Harriet thoughtfully. "I must warn Briony."
"You'll do no such thing," commanded Avery firmly. "Three dances with Ravensworth won't ruin the girl." He eyed her quizzically. "I remember a time when the irrepressible Miss Grenfell would have snapped her fingers at such a paltry indiscretion."
Harriet was taken aback. "It is ungentlemanly of you, sir, to throw my former follies in my face. It was your wish that I acquire a little dignity." Her eyes snapped dangerously and Avery had the grace to look abashed.
"Well, wasn't it?" Harriet demanded vehemently.
Lord Avery swallowed. When he spoke, he appeared to be laboring under some difficulty. "Harriet, I have been meaning to—to say something to you."
Harriet's pulse quickened. "Yes?" she asked breathlessly.
To gain a little time, Lord Avery groped in his coat pocket and withdrew a small, round snuffbox. How could he tell this fiery termagant that he thought she had become too tame of late, that he wished she would show a little more of her former spirit? Avery decided he dare not. With habitual delicacy, he placed a pinch of snuff on the back of his wrist. From the corner of his eye, he observed that Harriet was waiting for him to continue. He cast around in his mind for something to say, and said the first thing that came to his lips. "Would you care to partake?" he asked, proffering his wrist.
Harriet drew back as if she had been scorched. "How dare you, sir!" Her voice shook with anger.
It was precisely at that moment that a glum-faced Lord Ravensworth returned a radiant Briony to her cousin's side. The exaggerated court which the young blades, yes and some of them not so young, had paid to Briony in the course of the evening had evidently ruffled his lordship's feathers.
"Avery," squealed Briony as she laid her hand on his arm, "may I?" She made as if to draw his wrist to her nose, but a viselike grip on her arm forced her to relinquish it.
"I forbid it!" Ravensworth hissed in her ear.
Such intimidation provoked Briony's eyes to flash with anger. She turned a rigid back on his lordship and addressed herself to the Viscount. "If you please, Lord Avery?" she coaxed.
"Oh no, Briony," pleaded a distracted Harriet.
Then began a discreet tussle between the grim-faced
"Miss Langland, this dance is promised to me, I collect?" He laid a proprietary hand on Briony's arm and returned Lord Ravensworth's baleful glare.
"Do excuse us, my dear chap, but your, er , cousin filled me in on her card." His tone was faintly mocking.
For the first time, Ravensworth observed the card which Briony was clutching convulsively in her hands. He snatched it from her grasp and saw that there were four vacant spots on it. He filled his own name in each one of them without so much as a by-your-leave, knowing quite well that more than two dances would proclaim to the watching world that he had as much as engaged himself to the lady. He thrust it back into her shaking hands and, clicking his heels punctiliously, turned his back on her and her admiring cicisbeo.
Harriet's eyes scanned the dancers, searching for a glimpse of her elusive cousin. It had been, she thought with a sigh of satisfaction, an evening of notable success for Briony. She took vicarious pleasure in her cousin's triumph. Briony had been the most-sought-after deb at the ball. The young men were wild for her and had dogged her heels the whole night through. Harriet glanced sideways at her companion. The devotion of this one gentleman who was escorting her round the perimeter of the ballroom would have satisfied her modest ambitions, but Avery had become an enigma to het. He was constant but distant in his attentions. Harriet's eyes roved back to the dance floor.
"I say, Avery," she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, "isn't that Ravensworth partnering Briony again? That's the third time this evening. What is he up to? He will compromise her if he shows her such singular attention," said Harriet thoughtfully. "I must warn Briony."
"You'll do no such thing," commanded Avery firmly. "Three dances with Ravensworth won't ruin the girl." He eyed her quizzically. "I remember a time when the irrepressible Miss Grenfell would have snapped her fingers at such a paltry indiscretion."
Harriet was taken aback. "It is ungentlemanly of you, sir, to throw my former follies in my face. It was your wish that I acquire a little dignity." Her eyes snapped dangerously and Avery had the grace to look abashed.
"Well, wasn't it?" Harriet demanded vehemently.
Lord Avery swallowed. When he spoke, he appeared to be laboring under some difficulty. "Harriet, I have been meaning to—to say something to you."
Harriet's pulse quickened. "Yes?" she asked breathlessly.
To gain a little time, Lord Avery groped in his coat pocket and withdrew a small, round snuffbox. How could he tell this fiery termagant that he thought she had become too tame of late, that he wished she would show a little more of her former spirit? Avery decided he dare not. With habitual delicacy, he placed a pinch of snuff on the back of his wrist. From the corner of his eye, he observed that Harriet was waiting for him to continue. He cast around in his mind for something to say, and said the first thing that came to his lips. "Would you care to partake?" he asked, proffering his wrist.
Harriet drew back as if she had been scorched. "How dare you, sir!" Her voice shook with anger.
It was precisely at that moment that a glum-faced Lord Ravensworth returned a radiant Briony to her cousin's side. The exaggerated court which the young blades, yes and some of them not so young, had paid to Briony in the course of the evening had evidently ruffled his lordship's feathers.
"Avery," squealed Briony as she laid her hand on his arm, "may I?" She made as if to draw his wrist to her nose, but a viselike grip on her arm forced her to relinquish it.
"I forbid it!" Ravensworth hissed in her ear.
Such intimidation provoked Briony's eyes to flash with anger. She turned a rigid back on his lordship and addressed herself to the Viscount. "If you please, Lord Avery?" she coaxed.
"Oh no, Briony," pleaded a distracted Harriet.
Then began a discreet tussle between the grim-faced
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