Picture Perfect (6 page)

She beamed at her maid. ‘Yes, Laura, the yellow dress, definitely.’

Mrs Black did not believe in being fashionably late. Consequently dusk had just fallen when the two Black family carriages drew up outside Lockton House. ‘You’re looking splendid, m’dear,’ Colonel Black said as he handed his wife down from the carriage. Annabel thought she had never heard her father give her mother any other compliment, but the very familiarity of it helped calm her rapidly beating heart, and she gave her hand to Henry and leapt lightly down beside him, too

impatient to descend with any more decorum. Beside them Uncle James assisted his wife and daughters down from their carriage and the Black party made their way inside.

Although Madeline was not a newcomer to society, Colonel Black was senior to his brother and as such Annabel’s family was announced first. ‘Colonel Thomas Black, Mrs Judith Black and Miss Annabel Black.’ The footman’s voice rang out across the ballroom and Annabel felt a little shiver of anticipation run down her spine. She was here, at last, literally stepping over the brink into society. It was the moment she had been preparing for all her life, and finally it was here! She raised her head proudly and smiled in delight. Everything was just as she had dreamed it would be, the debutantes in their beautiful dresses, all the colours of flowers in the spring, the orchestra already playing softly at the far end of the room, and the gentlemen, young and handsome in their tailcoats or dress uniforms and looking ready to whirl the night away with her in their arms. Henry’s name was already pencilled in on the first slot on her dance card, but she was sure she would soon be dancing with far more exciting people than her own brother.

For reasons of his own Jack Denham had arrived uncharacteristically early at the Lockton House ball. He had made a quick perusal of the gaming rooms, where he had resisted the entreaties of former comrades to join them at cards. He had glanced into the retiring rooms, still vacant at such and early hour and he had spent some time on the large balcony at the back of the house ascertaining that it held no conventional routes down to the garden beyond. Then he found a glass of brandy to occupy his hands and set himself up in a quiet corner not too far from the main entrance to the ballroom. He glanced up as Annabel entered the room and his hand tightened involuntarily on the stem of his glass. Justine was looking absolutely radiant. Her eyes were bright as she looked across the ballroom, lips slightly parted in a breathless smile, and she positively glowed in a dress of daffodil gold which just hinted at the blossoming femininity of the figure it sheathed. She’s a friend, he told himself firmly, no matter how appealing she looked at eighteen she would not, over the years to come, make the right wife for him. But she was a friend with whom he firmly intended to have at least two dances and perhaps even escort to supper.

Annabel was right. A crush of guests arrived shortly after they had been announced and then after a rather sedated first dance with Henry, during which she felt she found her dancing feet, a tall young man in naval dress uniform approached them. ‘Hello, Nat,’ Henry said delightedly and for a brief moment Annabel wondered if she could tread on her brother’s foot without being noticed by anyone else, but fortunately Henry realised that it was not his presence which had drawn his friend over to where they stood. ‘Annabel, may I present my friend Nathan Jacobs? Nat this is my sister Annabel.’

‘
It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Nathan said with feeling. He took her hand and when he kissed it Annabel felt a tingling which seemed to run up her arm and straight to her heart. ‘May I have the honour of the next dance?’

‘
Certainly,’ Annabel said, dipping a social curtsey. Nathan’s hands were firm and confident as he partnered her in the next dance. They were in a set of eight and each time she spun down the centre between the other dancers, Annabel felt as if she were flying, her feet seemed to know what they were supposed to do without any conscious direction and each time she faced Nathan, she could see from the look in his eyes that she was beautiful tonight.

Nathan was followed by another friend of Henry’s, and then an extremely handsome man captured her hand for the first waltz of the evening and Annabel found herself spinning around the dance floor in a way that felt entirely unlike dancing with her brother. She had no lack of partners and she wasn’t still for a moment. Then in a brief pause between dances Annabel found herself standing next to Madeline. A slightly older man was making his way swiftly towards them. ‘That’s Lord Kent,’ Madeline whispered excitedly in her ear. ‘He’s a terrible rake, but a wonderful dancer, I danced with him several times last season. The thing to do is resist his charms and that makes him

want to dance with one again.’ She preened as Lord Kent approached, but he seemed not to notice her as he bowed to Annabel.

‘
I believe we are as of yet unacquainted, but may I have the pleasure of the next dance, Lady…’

‘
Miss Black,’ Annabel said firmly, ‘I am just Miss Black.’ She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to dance with someone who did not even acknowledge her cousin with whom he was surely acquainted, but neither was she sure of how to refuse politely. She had been far too busy dancing to have written in her dance card and all her thoughts prior to the ball had been concerned with how to ensure she had partners, not how to evade them.

‘
Unfortunately, Kent, Miss Beresford has promised this dance to me,’ a familiar voice said from behind her and Annabel felt a sudden and unexpected sense of relief, despite knowing that her rescuer continued to mistake her for someone else.

‘
But this isn’t Miss Beresford, this is Miss Black,’ Lord Kent said, with a slightly unpleasant edge to his voice, and Annabel was very glad that she need not dance with him.

‘
Nevertheless, I am committed to dancing with Mr Denham,’ she said firmly and turned to smile sweetly at him.’ For a moment what she saw took her breath away. He had been pleasing to look at the other evening at the Dulwich Picture Gallery, but tonight, in an impeccably cut black tail coat, lined in steely blue silk the exact shade of both the turnover of his top boots and of his eyes, and with a gleaming white cravat, intricately knotted and secured with a dark gold pin he looked extremely dashing. But it was his quizzical expression which drew her unhesitatingly towards him. He was looking at her with a mixture of intimacy and curiosity as if he knew her and as if his only desire in the world at that moment was to know her better.

The orchestra played its opening bars and Annabel’s heart almost leapt into her mouth as she realised that the next dance was a waltz. With a half bow Mr Denham invited her to take her place in his arms and with her heart fluttering in a very unfamiliar manner, Annabel joined him.

Then the waltz proper began and she found she was swirling around the room, as light as a feather, yet held securely in Mr Denham’s arms and she smiled at him in delight.

‘
I have to confess, Justine,’ Mr Denham said, ‘I can’t figure out what game you’re playing.’ He couldn’t have tripped her up more effectively if he had stuck out his foot on purpose. Annabel stumbled, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her and Mr Denham caught her by the waist. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you so,’ he said, suddenly sounding rather less composed than he had the moment before and hastily taking her arm. ‘Come and sit down for a moment.’ Skilfully he led her off the dance floor, weaving their way between the other couples to the nearest empty seat which turned out to be a small pink sofa clearly intended for intimate tête-à-têtes. Annabel sank down onto it and after a brief hesitation Mr Denham joined her.

She had to enlighten him, she couldn’t let him go on believing she was someone else, but the moment she informed him that he had mistaken her for his friend he would undoubtedly apologise profusely and quit her company as quickly as possible and she really didn't want that to happen. What she really wanted was to recapture the magic of the dance they had been enjoying only seconds before. ‘You’re being very quiet,’ Mr Denham said softly. ‘What is this ‘Miss Black’ thing all about? Couldn’t you please just tell me?’

Annabel took a deep breath. He had asked her directly, she could not prevaricate. ‘I am Miss Black, my name is Annabel Black. You have mistaken me for your friend Justine Berriford and presumably I resemble her, but you must be able to see for yourself that I am someone else entirely.’

‘
Beresford,’ he corrected absently, and then seemed to look right into her with his penetrating blue eyes. ‘Yes, incredible though it seems, I believe you, you are someone else entirely different.’ That was it then. Annabel cast her eyes down to her hands interlinked in her lap. Now he would apologise and excuse himself and she didn’t want to see the look of distance that would inevitably be on his face. But he didn’t move. ‘The resemblance is astounding,’ he said instead. ‘I can’t be the first person tonight to have taken you for Justine Beresford. Tell me, have many people presumed they are acquainted with you and asked you to dance tonight?’

‘
Yes, but-’ Annabel looked up and caught herself before she could blurt out the fact that she had thought they had simply been charmed by the sight of her and that she had attracted all her partners on her own merits.

‘
Of course, all of them would have wished to dance with you, had they been introduced,’ Mr Denham said hastily and, mortified, Annabel wondered if he had read her thoughts on her face. ‘But some of them would have been far too shy to introduce themselves and you wouldn’t have danced with Lieutenant Peters, for example.’

Mercifully Annabel felt her mortification turn to outrage. ‘Have you been watching me?’ she demanded.

‘
I…’ for a moment Mr Denham seemed at a loss for words. ‘No, that is, I was watching everyone, I have not been dancing.’

‘
Except with me,’ Annabel looked back at him directly. Had he come to the ball with the intention of dancing only with the unknown Justine, and if so did that mean he was in love with her? She could see no clue in his face and suddenly she felt a little cold.

Mr Denham raised an eyebrow. ‘Lord Kent was pressing you to dance,’ he said, as if that explained everything. Then he seemed to recollect that they were strangers. ‘But I have the advantage of you, my name is Jack Denham, and I am charmed to meet you, Miss Black.’ Jack, it suited him and Annabel found herself smiling back. Jack stood up and held out his hand. ‘May I escort you back to your chaperone, and if she approves of me, perhaps I may ask you for another dance.’

‘
Certainly, Mr Denham,’ Annabel said. She didn’t feel they were on first name terms yet, but she liked the touch of his hand on hers and she allowed him to lead her around the periphery of the ballroom, back towards where she had left her mother and Aunt Delilah. The room had filled up

considerably since she had first arrived and more guests still trickled in - the fashionably late, she supposed they were.

Jack saw the party before she did and the only warning Annabel had was the sudden light tensing of his hand on her arm as he halted them just shy of the main door. Then a middle-aged, but still beautiful woman dashed up to her, clutched her arm and seemed to be gasping for breath as she stared at her intently and Annabel had just time to register a girl racing up to her whose face was the mirror image of her own when the woman cried out ‘Hannah, my little Hannah! It’s Hannah!’ and fainted dead away.

Chapter 4

Jack leapt forward to catch Lady Beresford and managed to break her fall just before she hit the floor. To his surprise, Annabel had acted in concert with himself and he was acutely aware of his hand covering her own as they gently lowered Lady Beresford. He was amazed at the swiftness with which she had acted, he had become accustomed to the fact that his own reactions were distinctly faster than those of most people he knew, and furthermore he would have expected a girl of eighteen to have been too stunned by the bizarre situation in which she found herself to have done more than stare in bewilderment at both Lady Beresford and her daughter. For Annabel had surely seen Justine and the resemblance was incredible.

But Annabel knelt at Lady Beresford’s side and was gently chafing her hand in an attempt to rouse her and it was Justine who stood stock still, unheeding, and staring at the stranger who bore her face. ‘Quick, fetch a footman,’ he said to her slightly impatiently. ‘We need to move your mother somewhere quiet and we need some smelling salts.’

‘Here, I have some lavender water in my reticule,’ a society matron with whom Jack was unfamiliar intruded on the scene, kneeling down by Annabel and efficiently dabbing her scent onto a small, crisp handkerchief. ‘Support her head,’ she said briefly and Jack once again was aware of his fingers brushing against Annabel’s as they both obeyed the command. As the society matron held her handkerchief under Lady Beresford’s nose Jack had a moment to look more closely at Annabel. She was staring at Lady Beresford in a sort of wonderment and as if she couldn’t quite believe the events of the last few minutes, then, almost as if she could feel his gaze, she looked up at him and he was touched to see the unexpected vulnerability in her eyes.

‘Who is she?’ she almost whispered, seeming completely removed from the girl who had acted so quickly and competently when Lady Beresford had fainted.