Read Online Miss Lindel's Love by Cynthia Bailey Pratt - Free Book Online Page B

Maris.” Mrs. Paladin patted Maris’s cheek with her kid-gloved hand. It was like being touched by a ghost.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” Maris said, and thought it time to disabuse Mrs. Paladin of one or two notions. “But Lord Danesby is nothing to me.”
    “Come, come,” Mrs. Paladin said archly. “When every time you meet you gaze into each other’s eyes without so much as noticing that there is another living soul to be found?”
    “Mother,” Lilah said, moved to protest. “Don’t tease Maris. If she is attracted to his lordship, that’s hardly wonderful. Half the girls in the ton have thrown their handkerchiefs in his direction.”
    Though grateful for the defense, Maris wasn’t sure she liked the tenor of it. “I have never done so.”
    “Oh, no?” Mrs. Paladin was still smiling roguishly. “What about St. Paul’s then? A man does not arrive to an encounter with his mistress only to walk off with another girl unless she is of a great fascination.”
    “Mistress?”
    “Why, yes. Mrs. Armitage. All the world knows of their intrigue.”
    “Not I, ma’am.”
    “Oh, la,” Mrs. Paladin said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “There’s no use in being missish, my dear. You’ll hear more scandal than that old news tonight.” She looked out the window. “Here we are. My dears! Look at all the flowers on the walkway. A hundred guineas’ worth at least! The flower girls won’t have to purchase stock tomorrow; all sales will be by the grace of the marchioness!”
     

Chapter Six
     
    Maris felt as she once had as a girl when her father had held her by the elbows and swung her around so fast that her feet had left the ground. Everything went by in a dazzling blur, faster and faster, green grass and blue sky flowing together, the horizon dipping and rising as she spun. So did the people and things of the ball appear to her, one great twirling blur in which she could distinguish little for long.
    Her hostess wore a rich purple gown which suited her nearly Italian coloring. Amethysts as big as half crowns encircled her throat and, interspersed with cameos, clasped both wrists. She shook hands when Maris came up from her curtsy and nodded at Mrs. Paladin over Maris’s shoulder. “A pleasure, Miss Lin-del. The dancing won’t begin for quite half an hour yet. I’m sure so charming a girl will have no difficulty in finding a partner.”
    Maris hardly had time to murmur her thanks before Mrs. Paladin had her by the elbow and another guest was being greeted by her hostess.
    Their cloaks were left in a small room that seemed good enough for a party itself, judging by the flowers everywhere and the beauty of the maids. Lilah saw her gazing around and helped her doff her mantle. “Wait until you see the ballroom,” she said in a whisper. “The Marquess of Bevan is one of the wealthiest men in England and it is said he can deny his wife no whim.”
    “She is certainly very beautiful.” “With whims a-plenty, if all they say is true.” Maris laughed a little. “If I had the fortune, I might learn to have the whims.”
    “As would I. But come, my mother is waiting.” The noise and heat of the ballroom stunned Maris for a moment. She’d never seen so many people together in one place at one time. There seemed to be thousands, all laughing, chattering, drinking champagne, nibbling dainties, exclaiming in greeting, and growing louder by the moment. Across the glossy wooden floor, every brilliant color was represented from dark blue to scarlet and that was only the men. The women were more splendid than the glittering tiles in some great kaleidoscope. When the music began, they formed into patterns, crisp and constantly changing.
    Mrs. Paladin brought two shy young men over to her charges. Before Maris could ask him to repeat his name, missed among the noise and music, she was dancing, having much to do to mind her steps. Though she tried to keep her head up and smile as she’d been taught, Maris would have