She would not give that odious little man the satisfaction of knowing he’d driven her away. She’d ignore him.
She halted suddenly, oblivious of the strolling couple who almost collided with her, and deaf to their apologies as she stood still, her mind a turmoil of desperate plans.
She dared not ignore him. She was not by any means certain of Lord Dorney’s intentions. She could not risk him discovering her deception until after he’d spoken, if indeed he was considering proposing to her, as the Bath gossips were predicting and expecting daily.
Firmly she suppressed the rising panic and forced herself to review the position. She loved Lord Dorney, although she had admitted this to no one and always brushed aside Jane’s anxious queries with flippant remarks. She thought he loved her, but wondered forlornly whether this was hope rather than a reasonable expectation. If he did not, the deception she had practised, understandable though she considered it to be, might give him a disgust of her. If he loved her he’d forgive her. But did he love her?
Slowly she resumed her progress towards the tearoom, unaware of the curious glances cast after her, noticing nothing until an avuncular man, nearer her father’s age than her own, touched her gently on the arm.
‘Miss Collins, my dance, I believe?’
Somehow for the next hour she contrived to dance, talk about unimportant matters, and even to laugh. Beneath the surface calm her mind was wrestling with the problem, but without reaching any satisfactory conclusion. There was no opportunity to talk with Jane, and as the time for the last dance grew inexorably closer she sank into a lethargic acceptance. She would have to use the excuse Mr Salway had provided for her, and beg Lord Dorney to excuse her so that she could dance with the man she was beginning to hate.
‘I’ve just met an old friend - acquaintance,’ she amended quickly, suppressing the shudder all thought of a closer relationship with Mr Salway produced. ‘He’s from - from Yorkshire,’ she explained haltingly when Lord Dorney came to claim her. ‘He begged for this dance, so would you be kind enough to release me from my promise to you?’
‘How can I refuse you anything?’ he said gallantly. ‘Much as I deplore this unknown rival I cannot deny you the opportunity of talking with an old friend.’
Bella gulped, smiled tremulously at him, and wished the floor would swallow her. It was too bad of that wretch to force her into such a horrible situation. Fleetingly the thought crossed her mind that it was her own doing she was masquerading under an assumed name, but she pushed it angrily aside. It had been a necessary deception if she could ever hope to find a man who loved her and not her money.
She could say no more, however, for Mr Salway arrived beside her. Lord Dorney moved away, clearly not anxious to be introduced to the interloper, and Bella permitted her persecutor to lead her into the centre of the room.
‘I propose to call on you in the morning,’ Mr Salway announced as the musicians struck up.
Bella wanted to refuse, but she knew it would be to no avail. He could easily find her, and his enquiries might lead to unwelcome speculation.
Coldly she gave him their direction, and for the remainder of the dance they were silent. Bella had no wish to talk, for she was afraid if she did her anger would overwhelm her and betray her into an unseemly argument. Mr Salway seemed content to watch the other dancers. It occurred bleakly to Bella that Lord Dorney, if he were watching, could not help wondering why such declared old friends had so little to say to one another.
To Bella’s relief Lord Dorney made no comments as they drove to Henrietta Street, and Jane was tired and wished to retire straight to bed. She went up to her own room and threw off her ballgown, then pulled on a wrapper and sat down by the window, looking out towards the hills where flambeaux lit up the buildings, and a full
She halted suddenly, oblivious of the strolling couple who almost collided with her, and deaf to their apologies as she stood still, her mind a turmoil of desperate plans.
She dared not ignore him. She was not by any means certain of Lord Dorney’s intentions. She could not risk him discovering her deception until after he’d spoken, if indeed he was considering proposing to her, as the Bath gossips were predicting and expecting daily.
Firmly she suppressed the rising panic and forced herself to review the position. She loved Lord Dorney, although she had admitted this to no one and always brushed aside Jane’s anxious queries with flippant remarks. She thought he loved her, but wondered forlornly whether this was hope rather than a reasonable expectation. If he did not, the deception she had practised, understandable though she considered it to be, might give him a disgust of her. If he loved her he’d forgive her. But did he love her?
Slowly she resumed her progress towards the tearoom, unaware of the curious glances cast after her, noticing nothing until an avuncular man, nearer her father’s age than her own, touched her gently on the arm.
‘Miss Collins, my dance, I believe?’
Somehow for the next hour she contrived to dance, talk about unimportant matters, and even to laugh. Beneath the surface calm her mind was wrestling with the problem, but without reaching any satisfactory conclusion. There was no opportunity to talk with Jane, and as the time for the last dance grew inexorably closer she sank into a lethargic acceptance. She would have to use the excuse Mr Salway had provided for her, and beg Lord Dorney to excuse her so that she could dance with the man she was beginning to hate.
‘I’ve just met an old friend - acquaintance,’ she amended quickly, suppressing the shudder all thought of a closer relationship with Mr Salway produced. ‘He’s from - from Yorkshire,’ she explained haltingly when Lord Dorney came to claim her. ‘He begged for this dance, so would you be kind enough to release me from my promise to you?’
‘How can I refuse you anything?’ he said gallantly. ‘Much as I deplore this unknown rival I cannot deny you the opportunity of talking with an old friend.’
Bella gulped, smiled tremulously at him, and wished the floor would swallow her. It was too bad of that wretch to force her into such a horrible situation. Fleetingly the thought crossed her mind that it was her own doing she was masquerading under an assumed name, but she pushed it angrily aside. It had been a necessary deception if she could ever hope to find a man who loved her and not her money.
She could say no more, however, for Mr Salway arrived beside her. Lord Dorney moved away, clearly not anxious to be introduced to the interloper, and Bella permitted her persecutor to lead her into the centre of the room.
‘I propose to call on you in the morning,’ Mr Salway announced as the musicians struck up.
Bella wanted to refuse, but she knew it would be to no avail. He could easily find her, and his enquiries might lead to unwelcome speculation.
Coldly she gave him their direction, and for the remainder of the dance they were silent. Bella had no wish to talk, for she was afraid if she did her anger would overwhelm her and betray her into an unseemly argument. Mr Salway seemed content to watch the other dancers. It occurred bleakly to Bella that Lord Dorney, if he were watching, could not help wondering why such declared old friends had so little to say to one another.
To Bella’s relief Lord Dorney made no comments as they drove to Henrietta Street, and Jane was tired and wished to retire straight to bed. She went up to her own room and threw off her ballgown, then pulled on a wrapper and sat down by the window, looking out towards the hills where flambeaux lit up the buildings, and a full
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