Harrington’s arm?”
“The doctor says he is entirely satisfied
that it is healing properly. Benjy has to wear a sling, which he does not like,
but it will not be for long. Have you decided which dress to wear to the ball?”
“Not yet.” She would have to look her best:
Mr Wrackley would very likely be there.
* * *
This ball was less select than Lady
Treeton’s had been, the upper classes mixing with wealthy businessmen and the
more distinguished academics; the Scottish accents of the middle and working
classes mixing with the English accents of the upper class. However, there were
handsome men to talk to, pretty dresses to admire and music to dance to so
Amelia was content.
She saw Mr Harrington and Mr Nathaniel
Fenbridge talking, Benjamin looking so happy and Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge so fond
that she had great hopes for them. Lottie, her parents beside her, was talking
to Mr Brightford. Well, that would not do. Mr Brightford would likely never
marry anyone and certainly he was far too sharp and bad-tempered for Lottie. She
was about to go over and get Lottie away from him when she saw Mr Alexander
Fenbridge approach her; a moment later they left together to go to dance. Mr
Alexander Fenbridge was a little older than she would have liked for Lottie,
perhaps thirty, but this was not an unreasonable age difference. He had been
charming so far and had seemed to show a liking for Lottie, although it was
difficult to tell as he seemed more reticent than Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge. She
remembered how charming Saverney - the rat - had seemed and wished Mr Alexander
Fenbridge was not a stranger to the area; the character of a local man would be
easier to find out, although again Mr Saverney had deceived everyone.
A voice spoke her name and she recognised
it at once and turned to greet Mr Wrackley, trying not to look or sound too
eager, or too disinterested. She gave a smile that was hopefully friendly but
not excessive. “I am glad to see you again, Mr Wrackley.”
“You cannot be as glad as I am.”
She had had such flattery fifty times in
the past but it had never been anything beyond a pleasant boost to her
self-esteem. Now, when Mr Wrackley said any such thing to her she wanted to
laugh or throw herself into his arms. This would not do at all. She sternly
told herself to be calm. “Are you enjoying your stay in Edinburgh?”
“It is growing more pleasant by the
second.”
This comment made her feel over-warm and
flustered. “And have you visited all the sights?”
“Honestly, I prefer to converse, ride or
dance than visit museums or libraries. Does that sound shallow to you?”
“I hope not since I feel much the same way
myself.”
As the previous music finally came to an
end, Mr Wrackley’s dark eyes scanned the dance list. “Ah, finally a cotillian. May
I request the great honour of this dance with you, Miss Daventry, if you are
free?”
She was not but Benjamin would certainly
not object to the reprieve. “I would be delighted.”
They took their places and the music began.
Whenever the dance required him to touch her waist or hand she was acutely
aware of the warmth of his hand and of the tingling sensation his touch produced
in her body. She had never felt such awareness of another person and their eyes
frequently met in gazes that sent pleasurable thrills up and down her spine.
The dance, although some fifteen minutes
long with this many couples, was over far too soon and they walked through the
crowds away from the dance floor.
She fanned herself, suddenly made
light-headed by the extreme heat of the room. Mr Wrackley at once offered his
arm and said, “Shall we stand by the doorway to the garden? It might be
cooler.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
It was a little less warm by the open
doors. “There are people out on the balcony,” Mr Wrackley said. “If you are
still warm it would not be improper for us to go outside.”
She agreed and, once there, felt a lot
better. Mr Wrackley left to fetch
“The doctor says he is entirely satisfied
that it is healing properly. Benjy has to wear a sling, which he does not like,
but it will not be for long. Have you decided which dress to wear to the ball?”
“Not yet.” She would have to look her best:
Mr Wrackley would very likely be there.
* * *
This ball was less select than Lady
Treeton’s had been, the upper classes mixing with wealthy businessmen and the
more distinguished academics; the Scottish accents of the middle and working
classes mixing with the English accents of the upper class. However, there were
handsome men to talk to, pretty dresses to admire and music to dance to so
Amelia was content.
She saw Mr Harrington and Mr Nathaniel
Fenbridge talking, Benjamin looking so happy and Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge so fond
that she had great hopes for them. Lottie, her parents beside her, was talking
to Mr Brightford. Well, that would not do. Mr Brightford would likely never
marry anyone and certainly he was far too sharp and bad-tempered for Lottie. She
was about to go over and get Lottie away from him when she saw Mr Alexander
Fenbridge approach her; a moment later they left together to go to dance. Mr
Alexander Fenbridge was a little older than she would have liked for Lottie,
perhaps thirty, but this was not an unreasonable age difference. He had been
charming so far and had seemed to show a liking for Lottie, although it was
difficult to tell as he seemed more reticent than Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge. She
remembered how charming Saverney - the rat - had seemed and wished Mr Alexander
Fenbridge was not a stranger to the area; the character of a local man would be
easier to find out, although again Mr Saverney had deceived everyone.
A voice spoke her name and she recognised
it at once and turned to greet Mr Wrackley, trying not to look or sound too
eager, or too disinterested. She gave a smile that was hopefully friendly but
not excessive. “I am glad to see you again, Mr Wrackley.”
“You cannot be as glad as I am.”
She had had such flattery fifty times in
the past but it had never been anything beyond a pleasant boost to her
self-esteem. Now, when Mr Wrackley said any such thing to her she wanted to
laugh or throw herself into his arms. This would not do at all. She sternly
told herself to be calm. “Are you enjoying your stay in Edinburgh?”
“It is growing more pleasant by the
second.”
This comment made her feel over-warm and
flustered. “And have you visited all the sights?”
“Honestly, I prefer to converse, ride or
dance than visit museums or libraries. Does that sound shallow to you?”
“I hope not since I feel much the same way
myself.”
As the previous music finally came to an
end, Mr Wrackley’s dark eyes scanned the dance list. “Ah, finally a cotillian. May
I request the great honour of this dance with you, Miss Daventry, if you are
free?”
She was not but Benjamin would certainly
not object to the reprieve. “I would be delighted.”
They took their places and the music began.
Whenever the dance required him to touch her waist or hand she was acutely
aware of the warmth of his hand and of the tingling sensation his touch produced
in her body. She had never felt such awareness of another person and their eyes
frequently met in gazes that sent pleasurable thrills up and down her spine.
The dance, although some fifteen minutes
long with this many couples, was over far too soon and they walked through the
crowds away from the dance floor.
She fanned herself, suddenly made
light-headed by the extreme heat of the room. Mr Wrackley at once offered his
arm and said, “Shall we stand by the doorway to the garden? It might be
cooler.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
It was a little less warm by the open
doors. “There are people out on the balcony,” Mr Wrackley said. “If you are
still warm it would not be improper for us to go outside.”
She agreed and, once there, felt a lot
better. Mr Wrackley left to fetch
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