that the viscount felt it too. Warmth and an indistinct longing radiated
through Elisabeth’s body and she wished the rooms contained only the two of
them. She half-closed her eyes as they whirled gracefully about the floor and
wished the moment might never end. Intensely aware of Lord Sherbourne’s touch,
she dared a quick glance upward and their eyes met. Elisabeth’s breath caught
in her throat as something intangible passed between them, seeming to bind
their very souls. Unnerved by the intensity of the moment, Elisabeth once again
shuttered her gaze and she felt the viscount’s hand tighten upon hers as they
continued to whirl about the room.
After the waltz ended Elisabeth did not wish to have another
partner, feeling it would somehow tarnish the glow of her dance with
Sherbourne. She was therefore relieved when the viscount and Miss Earlywine’s
partner suggested they adjourn to the supper rooms, where they revived
themselves with tea, lemonade, rich cake and thin slices of bread and fresh
butter. Elisabeth was laughing at something droll Miss Earlywine had said when
she caught the word “Shelley” in the conversation of two dowagers sitting
nearby. Unable to resist listening, Elisabeth pretended to be occupied in
finishing her cake that she might hear the conversation better.
“Heard Mad Shelley and his wife have moved to Great Marlow.
My niece was naturally most distressed to have such people as neighbors. You
know Mrs. Shelley is enceinte . One wonders whether that was what caused
poor Harriet to take her own life. No one will receive them, of course.”
Elisabeth listened no more and her eyes flicked to Lady
Parker to see if she had also overheard the comments but Sherbourne’s sister
was conversing with the duke and gave no sign of having heard them. Here was
proof of what Lady Parker had told Elisabeth about the literary set not being
received by those in polite society and Elisabeth was disturbed by what she had
heard. Yet remembering the courteous but intense poet and his beautiful,
charming wife, Elisabeth could not entirely credit the gossip—and who was
Harriet? The overheard conversation stayed in her mind and much of the innocent
enjoyment she had taken in her success at Almack’s assembly rooms vanished.
Chapter Six
The afternoon sun bisected the drawing room, throwing half into
uncompromising clarity while the other half remained soft in the shadows. The
chiaroscuro effect flattered those callers sitting in its shadows while drawing
attention of the defects of those in the harsh light and Elisabeth entertained
herself by guessing which side of the room each new caller would select.
Several callers had stopped by the house in Half Moon Street that day, the day
after their first appearance at Almack’s, and Elisabeth and Lady Parker were
almost at the point where receiving them was becoming a chore rather than a
pleasure.
“His grace the Duke of Norland,” the footman announced as
yet another caller arrived. Lady Parker revived immediately and Elisabeth also
felt her spirits rise at the entrance of the duke. He was clad in riding dress
and Elisabeth wondered fleetingly how he managed to keep his clothing in such
perfection. His linen never seemed to wilt or crease, spots of lint never
seemed to appear on his coat and breeches and never did a scuffed spot appear
on his boots.
“I come on two errands this fine morning, Lady Parker, Miss
Ashwood. First to ascertain if you and Lord Sherbourne plan to attend the
premier of Don Giovanni at the Haymarket this coming week and second to
see if I might persuade you to join me for a ride about the Park,” he informed
them. “I have bought a new landaulet and thought to try it.”
“I have heard that one of Mozart’s operas is at last to be
performed in London,” Lady Parker admitted, “and we are planning to attend,
although I believe I should prefer another night to that of the premier.”
“I concur that it is more pleasant when
through Elisabeth’s body and she wished the rooms contained only the two of
them. She half-closed her eyes as they whirled gracefully about the floor and
wished the moment might never end. Intensely aware of Lord Sherbourne’s touch,
she dared a quick glance upward and their eyes met. Elisabeth’s breath caught
in her throat as something intangible passed between them, seeming to bind
their very souls. Unnerved by the intensity of the moment, Elisabeth once again
shuttered her gaze and she felt the viscount’s hand tighten upon hers as they
continued to whirl about the room.
After the waltz ended Elisabeth did not wish to have another
partner, feeling it would somehow tarnish the glow of her dance with
Sherbourne. She was therefore relieved when the viscount and Miss Earlywine’s
partner suggested they adjourn to the supper rooms, where they revived
themselves with tea, lemonade, rich cake and thin slices of bread and fresh
butter. Elisabeth was laughing at something droll Miss Earlywine had said when
she caught the word “Shelley” in the conversation of two dowagers sitting
nearby. Unable to resist listening, Elisabeth pretended to be occupied in
finishing her cake that she might hear the conversation better.
“Heard Mad Shelley and his wife have moved to Great Marlow.
My niece was naturally most distressed to have such people as neighbors. You
know Mrs. Shelley is enceinte . One wonders whether that was what caused
poor Harriet to take her own life. No one will receive them, of course.”
Elisabeth listened no more and her eyes flicked to Lady
Parker to see if she had also overheard the comments but Sherbourne’s sister
was conversing with the duke and gave no sign of having heard them. Here was
proof of what Lady Parker had told Elisabeth about the literary set not being
received by those in polite society and Elisabeth was disturbed by what she had
heard. Yet remembering the courteous but intense poet and his beautiful,
charming wife, Elisabeth could not entirely credit the gossip—and who was
Harriet? The overheard conversation stayed in her mind and much of the innocent
enjoyment she had taken in her success at Almack’s assembly rooms vanished.
Chapter Six
The afternoon sun bisected the drawing room, throwing half into
uncompromising clarity while the other half remained soft in the shadows. The
chiaroscuro effect flattered those callers sitting in its shadows while drawing
attention of the defects of those in the harsh light and Elisabeth entertained
herself by guessing which side of the room each new caller would select.
Several callers had stopped by the house in Half Moon Street that day, the day
after their first appearance at Almack’s, and Elisabeth and Lady Parker were
almost at the point where receiving them was becoming a chore rather than a
pleasure.
“His grace the Duke of Norland,” the footman announced as
yet another caller arrived. Lady Parker revived immediately and Elisabeth also
felt her spirits rise at the entrance of the duke. He was clad in riding dress
and Elisabeth wondered fleetingly how he managed to keep his clothing in such
perfection. His linen never seemed to wilt or crease, spots of lint never
seemed to appear on his coat and breeches and never did a scuffed spot appear
on his boots.
“I come on two errands this fine morning, Lady Parker, Miss
Ashwood. First to ascertain if you and Lord Sherbourne plan to attend the
premier of Don Giovanni at the Haymarket this coming week and second to
see if I might persuade you to join me for a ride about the Park,” he informed
them. “I have bought a new landaulet and thought to try it.”
“I have heard that one of Mozart’s operas is at last to be
performed in London,” Lady Parker admitted, “and we are planning to attend,
although I believe I should prefer another night to that of the premier.”
“I concur that it is more pleasant when
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