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Authors: Barbara Cartland

106. Love's Dream in Peril (10 page)

BOOK: 106. Love's Dream in Peril
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Lord Ranulph’s face fell.

“You cannot miss the event of the Season.”

“I – did not like the way she laughed at me.”

“Lady Ireton’s ball will be the best of the Season. You must not fret over a few humorous words spoken in jest. She is a charming hostess.”

The horses tossed their heads and pranced along by the trees and Adella racked her brains for some way to get out of going to this ball.

And then Lord Ranulph said in a quiet voice,

“Please, Miss May – Adella. I should so much like to dance with you.”

She had not heard him speak in this way before and somehow the gentleness of his tone was harder to resist than when he was being more insistent. She did not want to go to Lady Ireton’s ball, but suddenly it seemed unkind and ungenerous to refuse.

Lord Ranulph had given her the beautiful gift of the fine horses and he had obviously chosen them for her very thoughtfully.

And now he was speaking so gently and asking so earnestly.

“I – will think about it.” Adella replied.

Lord Ranulph caught her hand in his and kissed it swiftly before he released it.

Then he said no more, but sat beside her, gazing out over the green grass as they drove through Hyde Park.

*

“Digby, Digby! Hoorah!”

A chorus of happy young voices greeted the weary trainee lawyer as he entered the Judge’s house in Mayfair, where he had now been living for two weeks.

“You’re so late!” said Ned, the Judge’s third son, who was too young to be sent away to school with his two elder brothers. “We’ve been waiting for you for hours!”

“I had a lot of work to do,” Digby said, thinking back over a long day of running from the Chambers to the Court with bundles of important papers.

And now he was here, he should really go straight to his attic room and spend time studying before dinner.

“You should have remembered that you were going to take us out,” complained Agnes, who was just a year or so younger than her brother.

“You promised,” added little Katy, who was almost but not quite the youngest.

Peter, the baby of the family, who had not long been able to walk, had nothing to utter but delighted cries of “Digby, Digby, Digby!”

And he threw his little arms around Digby’s knees, so there was absolutely no chance that he could escape and run upstairs to his room.

“We must go now,” Agnes said, with an anxious expression. “Or Nanny will chase after us to go to bed.”

The children stood in a line in front of him, gazing up with beseeching expressions and Digby put down his heavy bag stuffed with legal books on the hallstand.

“All right, all right. I surrender.” he said. “Let go, Peter, old chap, that’s the ticket.”

“Horsey!” the little boy shouted and then chortled with happiness as Digby hoisted him onto his shoulders.

“Quickly, now!” Digby said, shepherding the four delighted children across the road and through the little iron gate that led into the tree-lined garden, which formed the heart of the Square.

“Oh, wait – look!” Agnes cried, seizing his hand.

A groom was walking along the road towards them leading two small white ponies.

“Please – can’t we stop and talk to them?” Agnes asked.

“Would you mind awfully if the children admired your ponies for a moment?” Digby asked.

The groom tugged on his cap politely.

“Not at all, sir.”

“Oh, they are so sweet!” Agnes cried, patting the ponies’ noses. “Like little fairy horses!”

“Agnes, don’t be so silly,” Ned retorted. “I think they look just like Ancient Roman chariot ponies. I bet they’d win lots of races.”

Katy pushed close to stroke the ponies.

“I wish we could have a pony,” she sighed. “Why won’t Papa let us have one?”

“Well, I’d better get on,” the groom said.

“Whose ponies are they?” Katy asked, reluctantly stepping back onto the pavement.

“The young lady at No. 82,” he replied. “She’s not much use for ’em now though. Not that she’d ever let ’em go. Good evenin’, sir.”

He then touched his cap and walked off, the ponies jogging behind him.

“Why doesn’t he ride them?” Katy asked.

Digby laughed.

“I should think his feet would touch the ground on either side!”

“A chariot. That’s the thing!” Ned exclaimed as he seized the ribbons of Katy’s apron and drove her through the gate and into the Square, shouting “giddy-up!”

Agnes was looked thoughtful. She took Digby’s hand again and walked along the gravel path with him.

“Do you think the young lady would let us borrow her ponies?” she asked.

Digby thought for a moment.

“That’s rather a good idea,” he said. “I will speak to your Papa and if he agrees, then perhaps we could ask her.”

“Oh, please do!” Agnes said, her face shining.

“Giddy-up!” Peter shouted and kicked Digby’s chest with his small feet.

“All right, all right!” Digby obligingly broke into a trot. Life would be a lot easier, he thought, when Judge Dryden found a good Governess to keep his family quiet.

In the meantime a loan of the two sturdy ponies would be an excellent idea.

As soon as he had some free time, he must go and speak to their owner, whoever she might be, at No. 82.

*

“Mr. Edgar May and Miss Adella May,” the blue-coated footman’s voice echoed like a foghorn across the wide smooth sea of the polished ballroom floor.

Lady Ireton, tall and majestic, swept towards them like a ship in full sail, her purple skirts, edged with black lace, trailing over the parquet in her wake.

“Mr. May. I am so delighted that you are able to come and join us for our little party tonight.”

She reached out her black-gloved hand for Uncle Edgar to kiss and her green eyes glittered in the light of the vast candelabra that dangled from the lofty ceiling.

“So this is your niece.” Lady Ireton then turned to Adella. “Have we met before, Miss May? I think not.”

Adella felt very relieved. Lady Ireton had forgotten that afternoon in Hyde Park and the small white ponies that had given her so much entertainment.

“What a pretty creature!” Her Ladyship gazed at Adella. “You have been hiding your light under a bushel, Miss May. The moths will be flocking around tonight, I have no doubt!”

And she gave a high neighing laugh.Was this some new joke she was making at Adella’s expense?

But there was no time to think what her Ladyship might mean, as Uncle Edgar was leading her across the wide ballroom floor.

Almost at once several young gentlemen came up and introduced themselves.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” one said. “May I have the pleasure of the first dance Miss May, if your uncle has no objection?”

“Oh, and I the second,” another piped up eagerly, “if you are not otherwise engaged?”

Adella had no chance to respond to their requests as a tall figure was suddenly at her side.

“Miss May is most definitely otherwise engaged,” Lord Ranulph’s deep voice intoned. “She has promised the first dance to
me
.”

The young gentlemen’s faces fell, but they stepped back respectfully to leave the two of them alone.

Lord Ranulph took her hand and raised it to his lips, holding it there for a long moment.

His hand trembled a little, as if he was nervous, but he led her towards the dance floor and she had no choice but to follow him.

“You are so lovely tonight,” he said in a low voice. “Everyone is watching you, they cannot help themselves.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Adella whispered.

“It’s true!” he continued, almost whispering. “Your hair gleams like purest gold and your face is like a white rose petal. Your beauty shines out like a candle flame.”

As he said this, Adella knew that she should feel flattered to have such charming compliments paid to her. But still she felt ill at ease.

‘I would be much happier with any of those other young gentlemen,’ she thought. ‘They would be so much more fun and I am sure that they would not keep saying such foolish things to me!’

The musicians were playing the first bars of a lively waltz and Adella’s legs felt suddenly weak and shaky.

The moment had come for her to dance and she was quite sure that she was going to trip over the heavy skirts of her white ball gown.

She wished that she could free her hand from Lord Ranulph’s tight grip and hurry back to Uncle Edgar, who was sitting at the side of the ballroom.

But it was too late. The waltz was already getting under way and couples were streaming onto the floor. She had no choice but to follow Lord Ranulph’s lead.

Adella’s fear that she might tangle her feet in her skirts was instantly banished, for there was no denying that Lord Ranulph was a very good dancer.

Even if she had not learned the graceful steps of the waltz from the dancing master at Mottram’s School for Young Ladies, she would still have been able to dance with him, as he led her over the ballroom with perfect assurance and her feet had no choice but to follow his.

Adella soon realised that she loved the swift turns and spins of the waltz. It was just as wonderful as sitting in the open landau and feeling the breeze in her hair as the Hanoverians bounded along.

But, although she loved the thrill of the dance and even though her partner was skilful and swift, the pressure of his strong hands on her shoulder and at her waist seemed to weigh her down with a strange heaviness.

The music began to slow as the waltz drew to a close and Adella saw that Lady Ireton was beckoning from a
chaise longue
near the Minstrels’ Gallery.

Lord Ranulph looked unhappy as he appeared to want to go on dancing, but there was no denying that her Ladyship desired them to go and talk to her.

Adella felt her throat tighten with apprehension, but Lady Ireton did not speak to her.

“You rogue!” She flashed a smile at Lord Ranulph. “Surely it’s your duty, as the handsomest young man in the ballroom, to give the first dance to your hostess?”

She turned to Adella and winked.

“What did I tell you? They will all be burning their wings before the night is out!”

Then, with a rustle of skirts, Lady Ireton rose to her feet and slid herself into Lord Ranulph’s arms.

The musicians began to play a rousing polka and, for a moment, Adella stood all alone, watching the figures of the dancers galloping across the ballroom floor.

Lord Ranulph and Lady Ireton were certainly a most striking couple, there was no doubt of that. They were both so tall and they moved with grace and determination.

The great candelabra above them drew flashes of light from Lady Ireton’s jewelled headdress and the great necklace just above the décolletage of her purple gown.

“Excuse me, Miss May?”

It was one of the young gentlemen who had spoken to her earlier. He bowed politely.

“I wonder if I might have the next dance and would you care for a glass of champagne while we wait.”

“Of course,” Adella smiled. He seemed so sweet and gentle with his grey eyes and smooth brown hair.

“I must say, your uncle is an interesting chap,” the young man remarked. “He’s been telling me all about the model of the Red Fort he is building. Have you seen it?”

“Yes, I have. It’s quite extraordinary,” Adella said, and she sipped her champagne and felt the bubbles fizzing in her nose.

As the ball continued, she realised that the young gentlemen were doing just what Lady Ireton had said, they were flocking round her like moths.

She could not stand still for more than a minute without a flurry of eager requests for the next dance or the one after or even the one after that – or any dance at all, whatever she had left!

‘I really feel like a candle on a summer’s evening, standing near an open window,’ she sighed to herself.

It was not until it was long past midnight that Lord Ranulph found his way to her side again.

“You have not stopped dancing all night. Are you not thirsty?” he asked as he held out a glass of champagne.

“Thank you, but no.”

Adella was thirsty, but she must not have any more champagne, for the two or three glasses she had already drunk had gone to her head.

Lord Ranulph’s dark eyes were unreadable in the shadows away from the candlelight.

After a moment he spoke again.

“There is a fine terrace here at the
Royal Hotel
. Would you care for some fresh air?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Adella could not help but think that to feel a cool breeze on her hot cheeks, flushed from dancing, would be very pleasant.

He led the way to the tall glass doors that opened onto the terrace. Outside the lights of the City of London glinted like jewels against the velvet of the night sky.

“It’s so beautiful!” Adella cried before she could stop herself.

“All the more beautiful now that you are here to grace it.”

Adella wished that he would not keep making such compliments. She then turned her face away from him and noticed that the sky was turning grey on the horizon.

She must have been dancing all night, as surely that was the dawn coming up!

“Adella.” Lord Ranulph’s voice sounded rather gruff. “I have something that I must ask you – ”

“I don’t have any dances still free,” Adella began.

“You misunderstand me.”

He took a swift step towards her and dropped onto his knees.

Adella felt alarmed. She wanted to move away, but a large potted palm blocked her retreat.

“It’s hateful to see you dancing with all those other men, Adella,” he said and a tremor ran though his voice.

“Whatever do you mean? Surely that is what one does at a ball.”

If only the potted palm was not so large. But she simply could not squeeze past it.

He raised his head and gazed at her.

“Marry me, Adella,” he murmured.

The bright lights of the City blurred and whirled in front of Adella.

“I cannot!” she cried, struggling to clear her head.

“You must. You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Please be my wife,” he pleaded.

Had he not heard her?

“I cannot!” she repeated.

BOOK: 106. Love's Dream in Peril
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