All five of the guests looked superb, but Elizabeth found to her own annoyance that she had eyes only for Hetherington. He looked quite magnificent, she thought, in cream satin knee breeches and dull gold waistcoat and evening coat. His white linen positively sparkled. He looked full of healthy vitality in contrast to Mr. Mainwaring, who was dressed in black, a fashion that had shocked the ton when Mr. Brummell had first introduced it.
Hetherington was smiling his particularly attractive smile at his hosts. Elizabeth shrank further into the shadowed corner and tried to look as if she were engrossed in the conversation with Mrs. Claridge, but even so she felt exposed. She had the strange sensation that Hetherington had singled her out immediately.
If he had seen her, he gave no sign. He danced first with Amelia Norris and then with Lucy Worthing, whose hand had just been relinquished by Mr. Mainwaring. Then he danced with Cecily, and his whole manner changed, Elizabeth felt. What had been polite good manners with his other partners became warm interest with Cecily. Perhaps the change was not obvious to other onlookers, but Elizabeth knew him well enough immediately to assess his feelings. And she worried. Cecily was a giddy young girl in many ways, but there was a sweetness in her nature that would develop with maturity if given a chance. She did not wish the girl to be beguiled by such a practiced and heartless charmer. She determined that she would perform her duties as chaperone with extra diligence. Mr. Rowe had retired to the card room already. It was up to her to see that Cecily did not spend too much time with the marquess and that he had no chance to be alone with her.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Prosser asked Elizabeth for the supper dance. She had not intended to dance at all, did not feel it was appropriate to do so, especially dressed as she was. But as she was about to refuse, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Hetherington was asking Cecily to dance again. If she herself danced with Mr. Prosser, she would have an excuse to go immediately into the supper room afterward and keep an eye on her charge. She smiled and placed her hand in his.
It was a country dance. Mr. Prosser led his partner to join the set of which Hetherington and Cecily were already part. Cecily waved gaily to her. The girl's partner looked through her. When the pattern of the dance forced them to dance together for a few moments, he looked at her out of cold blue eyes and remarked, "You are looking remarkably fetching tonight, Miss Rossiter, in your gray silk."
"Thank you, my lord," she replied in kind. "I thought you would appreciate my efforts."
We are just like a couple of spiteful children, she thought in some dismay as the music forced them to move in opposite directions. The next time they came together, neither said a word.
Mr. Prosser led Elizabeth into the supper room and directly to the table already occupied by Mr. Mainwaring and Lucy Worthing, Ferdie Worthing and Amelia Norris, and Hetherington and Cecily. To her further dismay, her partner pulled out for her the chair next to Hetherington and waited until she had seated herself.
Elizabeth was aware that, had she not felt so conscious Of her proximity to the marquess, she might have been highly entertained by the proceedings of the following half-hour. Mr. Mainwaring and Lucy made labored conversation from time to time, but in the main listened to that of others at the table. He was top-lofty, Elizabeth decided severely. He considered himself above his company. Poor Lucy was looking her worst in a lemon-colored evening gown loaded with matching lace. Nervousness made her complexion even paler than usual.
Ferdie and Miss Norris were almost openly tuning in on the conversation across the table, Ferdie glowering moodily at his aristocratic rival to Cecily's affections, Miss Norris showing haughty disapproval.
Hetherington directed his attention to Cecily, talking to her in a bantering manner, almost like father to child, flattering her quite outrageously, and devouring her with his eyes. This last Elizabeth observed in one swift glance. She did not want to be seen watching him. Cecily was glowing happily, apparently quite unaware of the currents of hostility pulsing across the table.
Finally, Mr. Prosser engaged Elizabeth in conversation and she found herself genuinely interested in his accounts of experiences in Portugal. Soon she was engrossed.
Hetherington's voice brought her back to reality. "You must favor us with your opinion, Miss Rossiter," he was saying, directing the full force of his charming smile at her.
Elizabeth looked up, startled, leaving Mr. Prosser in midsentence. "On what topic, pray, sir?" she asked.
"Miss Rowe and I cannot agree on the location for a picnic on Saturday," he explained. "I favor the riverbank on William's estate. There is a particularly shaded and peaceful area about a mile north of the house. Miss Rowe favors the site of a ruined church on a hill three miles away. What is your opinion, ma'am?"
Flustered as she was by the unexpected attention, Elizabeth could still find time to wonder why he should suddenly decide to speak to her on such a trivial matter.
"A great deal depends on the state of the weather, my lord," she replied. "The river site would be perfect for a very hot day. The church site would be more suited to a cooler day because it is more open. Brilliant sunshine would make it uncomfortable."
"Ah, and do you add weather predictions to your other talents?" he asked, looking so directly into her eyes that Elizabeth was having difficulty breathing regularly.
"I am afraid not, my lord," she replied.
"How absurd you are, Robert," the shrill voice of Amelia Norris said across the table. "I would have thought you had outgrown such childish pursuits as picnics."
He smiled brilliantly back at her. "You may stay at home with your embroidery if you wish, Amelia," he said. "But I am sure that Miss Rowe and I will find others to join us. William, I am sure, will come, and Henry and Bertha. How about you, Worthing, and your sister?"
Ferdie glowered at Cecily, and Lucy blushed a painful red, but both accepted.
"And you, Miss Rossiter?" Hetherington asked.
"If Mrs. Prosser is to be present, I hardly think that my presence as chaperone will be necessary," Elizabeth replied calmly.
"Yes, I do not feel that any servants will be necessary to Mir party," Amelia Norris commented acidly.
Hetherington smiled again. "Ah, so you have decided to come after all, have you, Amelia?" he said, and turned back to Elizabeth. "But I was not inviting you as a chaperone, Miss Rossiter; I was inviting you as a guest."
Their eyes held for a painful moment. The orchestra could be heard turning up again in the next room. Mr. Mainwaring stood up. "Shall I return you to your mother, Miss Worthing?" he asked. "I believe the dancing is about to start again."
Everyone rose to return to the ballroom. Under cover of the general bustle, Hetherington spoke quietly to Elizabeth. "I wonder if you have the courage to come?" he said, the cold ice back in his eyes and voice. "And to wear a color other than gray."
Elizabeth did not reply. She turned and took Mr. Prosser's arm. Soon she was back in her shadowed corner, listening once more to Mrs. Claridge. She danced only once more that night, with Mr. Rowe, who asked if her glass slippers were pinching her feet yet.
---
Elizabeth did not sleep much that night. At first she worried about Cecily and about whether she should intervene or not. Someone of Hetherington's charm and experience was dangerous to an innocent like Cecily. And Mr. and Mrs. Rowe might not be able to see behind the facade of charm in time to save their daughter from a broken heart. Only Elizabeth knew that he was capable of subordinating all else to his personal interests. Was it her duty to warn Cecily, or at least Mrs. Rowe?