The Shifting Tide - Anne Perry [104]
Her mother was too delighted with victory to question it, and obliged with alacrity.
Margaret had dressed with more flair and high fashion than she normally wished to; it was not really to her taste. This gown in warm pinks with a touch of plum was her mother’s choice, and it was more dramatic than she cared to be, but it would draw attention to her, and tonight that was what she needed. She acknowledged Marielle’s rather fulsome compliments as graciously as she could, and entered the party with her head high and her teeth gritted.
She was immediately welcomed by her hostess, a large lady full of bustling goodwill. She had a charming smile and a gown up to the minute in fashion.
“How delightful to see you, Miss Ballinger,” she said, after having welcomed Marielle and her husband. “It has been far too long.” Her wide eyes and the lift of curiosity in her voice made it a question. Some explanation of her absence was required.
“Yes, it has,” Margaret agreed, forcing herself to smile. “I’m afraid I have been involved with work for a charity which has consumed my interest so much I have lost track of time.”
“Oh, good works are most admirable, I’m sure,” her hostess said quickly. “But you must not rob us of your company altogether. And of course your own welfare must also be considered.”
Margaret knew exactly what she meant. It was a young woman’s duty to find a husband for herself, and not remain dependent upon her parents. “I am sure you are right,” she replied, trying to look sweet and agreeable, and finding it required more of an effort than she had anticipated. “And this is such a happy occasion, we shall all feel uplifted by it.”
“Oh, yes!” And her hostess proceeded to sing the praises of her future son-in-law without wishing for any response except perhaps a little envy.
As soon as she had exhibited all the wished-for signs, Margaret excused herself and, with Marielle, moved to the next compatible group of people. Marielle introduced her, with the greatest of ease allowing them to understand that she was unmarried.
Margaret cringed inside. Knowing she needed Marielle’s help, she bore it with grace, but great difficulty. Once or twice it threatened to become unendurable as her mind was filled with a picture of Hester with her sleeves rolled up, her hair falling out of its pins. She could see her face exhausted with days and nights of snatched sleep, unable either to save the sick or to run away from the horror and the death, even had she wanted to. She was trapped, perhaps until she too succumbed to the most terrible of diseases. She might never leave that place, never see Monk again, or anyone whom she loved. What on earth was a little embarrassment to put up with?
“I am sure we have not met before, Miss Ballinger,” a young man was saying to her. He had been introduced as the Honorable Barker Soames. He had floppy brown hair and a mildly superior air of good humor. His tone invited explanation as to why not. His friend Sir Robert Stark was paying only half attention; the rest was on a young lady with auburn hair who was pretending not to look at him while adjusting her fan.
Margaret forced herself to pay attention. She wanted to dismiss him with a cool remark, but her purpose overrode everything else, and she bit her tongue. “We have not,” she replied with a charming smile. “I should have recalled it. I am always aware of those I have spoken to on serious matters, and I cannot imagine you are interested in trivia.”
He was startled. It was certainly not the answer he had expected, and it took him several seconds to adjust his thoughts. “Why no, of course not. I . . . I am concerned with all manner of . . . of subjects of gravity.” Gravity was the greatest of virtues, and he was as aware of it as she. The very mention of it conjured up a picture of the late and still deeply mourned Prince Albert.
“To be of worth, it is absolutely necessary, don’t you agree?” she pursued. Then, before he could answer and divert the course of the conversation