Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [22]
“I am sure the other half will more than make up for it.” She wanted to be unquestionably polite, and yet keep a cool distance between them. Let him consider himself in whatever half he pleased. She would claim total innocence.
He laughed outright.
“Bravo, Mrs. Pitt,” he said frankly. “I am sure I am going to like you.”
To rebuff him would be appallingly rude, and quite insincere. Despising herself for being quite genuinely outwitted, and without a shred of dislike, she thanked him.
Lord Anstiss was one of the last to arrive. He came up the stairs almost alone and stopped behind Fitzherbert. He was a man of barely average height and sturdy build not yet run to fat although he was probably in his early fifties. He was balding, with fine side whiskers, but no mustache or beard, leaving his blunt, candid features plainly visible. His appearance was commanding because of his obvious strength of will and intelligence. One had only to meet his eyes once to be aware of his personality and to sense his confidence in himself, springing from achievement. He needed no one else’s praise to bolster his self-worth.
Fitzherbert collected his wits rapidly and with grace, turning on the spot to smile at Lord Anstiss and apologize for causing him to wait, and moving with alacrity across the floor and into the reception room.
Charlotte turned back to the stairhead with a butterfly of nervousness high in her stomach.
“Good evening, Lord Anstiss,” she said, swallowing hard and smiling. This man mattered intensely to Emily’s plans. “We are so pleased you were able to come. I am Mrs. Pitt, Mrs. Radley’s sister. Unfortunately she was taken unwell, which has given me the honor of standing in her place for the evening.”
“I am sure you will do it with grace and skill, Mrs. Pitt,” he said courteously. “But please be so kind as to convey my sympathies to Mrs. Radley, and my hope that she will be restored to full health very soon. I trust it is nothing serious?”
Mindful that a member of Parliament needs a wife who is not delicate or liable to fail in her duty, Charlotte had already worked out what to say to him.
“I am sure she will,” she said with conviction. “It is a malady which affects women only in the first month or two, but if we are to provide heirs for our husbands it seems inevitable.”
“I am afraid it does,” he said with a slight bow. “I am delighted it is for such a fortunate reason.” He glanced at the momentarily empty staircase behind him, then offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the ballroom? I hear the sounds of music.” And indeed the band had already begun the opening quadrille.
So far all was well. Everyone who was of importance had accepted her. Now she must make sure she spoke to everyone, passed some small exchange that seemed personal and yet not intrusive, offended no one, and ensured that everyone felt welcome, no one was insulted or overlooked, and that there were no social disasters, the refreshments lasted, the champagne was cold, and the music in time.
“Thank you, I should be charmed,” she accepted, and sailed across the landing and into the ballroom amid the flowers on his lordship’s arm. They did not join the quadrille, being a trifle late, but dallied in small talk for a while, made trivial comments and smiled at everyone. Then after a suitable pause the band struck up the lancers and she was swept onto the floor. She could only just recall what to do with her feet and the train of her gown. Then familiarity reasserted itself, the years vanished and it was as if she were a girl again being traipsed around fashionable balls in hope of finding a husband. Although to be truthful, her mother had never taken her to a function as distinguished as this. It was considerably above the Ellisons’ social station. They had never aspired to the aristocracy, only to gentle birth and comfortable