The Nonesuch by Georgette Heyer Page B

damsels were still unprovided with partners. But that was a circumstance she was unlikely to notice.
    ‘Miss Trent, if he thinks to stand up with her more than twice that’s something I won’t allow!’ said Mrs Underhill suddenly. ‘You must tell her she’s not to do so, for she’ll pay no heed to me, and it’s you her uncle looked to, after all!’
    Ancilla smiled, but said: ‘She wouldn’t flout you publicly, ma’am. I’ll take care, of course – but I fancy Lord Lindeth won’t ask her for a third dance.’
    ‘Lord, my dear, what he’d like to do is to stand up with her for every dance!’
    ‘Yes, but he knows he can’t do so, and has too much propriety of taste, I’m persuaded, to make the attempt. And, to own the truth, ma’am, I think Tiffany wouldn’t grant him more than two dances in any event.’
    ‘Tiffany?’ exclaimed Mrs Underhill incredulously. ‘Why, she’s got no more notion of propriety than the kitchen cat!’
    ‘No, alas! But she is a most accomplished flirt, ma’am!’ She could not help laughing at Mrs Underhill’s face of horror. ‘I beg your pardon! Of course it is very wrong – shockingly precocious, too! – but you will own that a mere flirtation with Lindeth need not throw you into a quake.’
    ‘Yes, but he’s a lord!’ objected Mrs Underhill. ‘You know how she says she means to marry one!’
    ‘We must convince her that she would be throwing herself away on anyone under the rank of a Viscount!’ said Ancilla lightly.
    The dance came to an end, and she soon had the satisfaction of seeing that she had prophesied correctly: Tiffany stood up for the next one with Arthur Mickleby, and went on to dance the boulanger with Jack Banningham. Lord Lindeth, meanwhile, did his duty by Miss Colebatch and Miss Chartley; and Miss Trent extricated Charlotte from a group of slightly noisy young people, and inexorably bore her off to bed. Charlotte thought herself abominably ill-used to be compelled to withdraw before supper: she had been looking forward to drinking her very first glass of champagne. Miss Trent, barely repressing a shudder, handed her over to her old nurse, and returned to the drawing-room.
    She entered it to find that the musicians were enjoying a respite. She could not see Mrs Underhill, and guessed that she had gone into the adjoining saloon, where some of the more elderly guests were playing whist. Nor could she see Tiffany: a circumstance which filled her with foreboding. Just as she had realized that Lindeth was another absentee, and was wondering where first to search for them, a voice spoke at her elbow.
    ‘Looking for your other charge, Miss Trent?’
    She turned her head quickly, to find that Sir Waldo was somewhat quizzically regarding her. He flicked open his snuff-box with one deft finger, and helped himself to a delicate pinch. ‘On the terrace,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, no!’ she said involuntarily.
    ‘Well, of course, they may have been tempted to take a stroll about the gardens,’ he conceded. ‘The terrace, however, was the declared objective.’
    ‘I collect it was Lord Lindeth who took her on to the terrace!’
    ‘Do you? My reading of the matter was that it was rather Miss Wield who took Lindeth on to it!’
    She bit her lip. ‘She is very young – hardly out of the schoolroom!’
    ‘A reflection which must cause her relations to feel grave concern,’ he said, in a tone of affable agreement.
    She found herself to be so much in accord with him that it was difficult to think of anything to say in extenuation of Tiffany’s conduct. ‘She – she is inclined to be headstrong, and quite ignorant of – of – And since it was your cousin who most improperly escorted her I think you should have prevented him!’
    ‘My dear Miss Trent, I’m not Lindeth’s keeper! I’m not Miss Wield’s keeper either, I thank God!’
    ‘You may well!’ she said, with considerable asperity. Then, as she saw the amusement in his face, she added: ‘Yes, you