The Art of Love (26 page)

‘I am guaranteed at least three dances,’ she said with something of the air of a conspirator. ‘My father, my brother and my cousin must all dance with me.’

Tara took a misstep and nearly tripped on the cobblestones. ‘Your… your cousin?’ she said.

Caroline nodded sagely, apparently not noticing that her companion had nearly fallen. ‘Yes, my cousin Leo will be there, naturally Lord Davenham invited him as he is in the area.’ Tara did not know what Caroline meant by that last comment, but she did not care. She would see Leo tonight, he had not left Bournemouth after all. All was not lost. Tonight she would be in her element, in Lord Davenham’s small, provincial ballroom she was certain to be the most dazzling presence, it was not, perhaps, a modest opinion, but it was an accurate one. Tara had not done five London seasons for nothing. She would swan in and charm everyone and Leo would realize how much he wanted her. At least she hoped he would and as she had no other plan for winning his heart she had to count on this one. She smiled at Caroline.

‘I am sure it will be a most memorable evening,’ she said. ‘Possibly incomparable!’

Tara briefly regretted not ordering a new dress when her mother had done so, but riffling through her wardrobe she saw that Betty had considered every eventuality when she had packed and she had no less than three ball dresses to choose from. She stared at them all critically, there was the jade satin dress she had worn to Lord Maxwell’s ball, but while it was undeniably a beautiful dress, Leo had seen her in it before and she dismissed it. She also dismissed a cream under dress with an over dress of matching lace, it was exquisite, but the colour was too innocent for the image she wanted to project. She did not want to appear as demure as a debutante - if Leo had wanted a debutante he could have had one long ago, there were plenty to choose from in London. The third dress had a deceptively simple cut, suitable for a country ball despite its low, scooped neckline, but the fabric was luxurious. It was made of shot gold satin, it would catch the light from a thousand candles and twinkle as she danced. This was the one, Tara decided, the dress would look beautiful on anyone, but gold suited her colouring perhaps more than any other hue. This was a dress to be noticed in.

As she dressed for that ball Tara decided to wear her hair loose, the lines of her dress were uncomplicated and her tumultuous curls, artfully arranged by Betty, would provide a nice contrast. She took only a light wrap, for the evening was warm and it had not rained despite her mother’s prediction. The she was ready.

Tara wanted to arrive at Lord Davenham’s manor fashionably late to ensure that Leo was there to witness her entrance, but her mother had other ideas. ‘This is not London,’ Lady Penge said sternly when Tara suggested delaying their departure by half an hour. ‘We have been invited for eight, and we shall arrive no later than a quarter past unless you have a very good reason for arriving later.’ Somehow Tara did not think her mother would consider her desire to impress Leo a good reason and she decided there was nothing to be gained by arguing. She returned to her bedroom to fetch her reticule but did not delay for long - Lady Penge was so clearly looking forward to the ball in a way in which she had not looked forward to anything in a long time, and it seemed unfair to deny her even a few minutes of her evening.

As they alighted from their carriage in front of Davenham Manor, Tara peered into the darkness eagerly, trying to spot a lone rider on horseback. Caroline had told her that Leo had not bothered with a carriage in Bournemouth and rode everywhere instead, but although two carriages trundled down the driveway behind their own, there was no sign of Leo. Regretfully she followed her mother up the steps to the front door.

‘Lady Penge and her daughter Lady Tara Penge,’ the butler announced a short while later after Lady Penge had been relieved of her pelisse and Tara of her wrap. As they paused at the head of the short flight of stairs leading down into the ballroom, Tara glanced across the floor. The Davenham ballroom was not overly large or overly full and she could see at once that Leo was not there, however, as she had hoped, the room was lit by candlelight rather than oil lamps and she knew her dress would be shown to its best advantage. Musicians played softly in the background, a prelude to the dancing and despite Leo’s absence Tara felt her mood start to elevate. She loved balls, she loved the music, the dancing, the beautiful clothes and the bright chatter from the smiling faces. Balls were a place to fall in love, again and again. She let the feeling wash over her, she would be at her best when Leo arrived if she threw herself into the spirit of the occasion.

‘Lady Penge, Lady Tara, how lovely to see you,’ Mark came forward to greet them. Tara allowed him to kiss her hand, trying very hard not to compare the friendly brush of his lips with the intimacy of the touch Leo would have bestowed upon her. ‘Lady Tara, you look absolutely magnificent tonight,’ Mark said sincerely, confirming Tara’s view of her appearance.

‘Thank you,’ Tara said, and then the musicians struck up in earnest.

‘Would you give me the honour of this dance?’ Mark asked through the opening chords.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ Tara said, uttering the phrase she had so often repeated without having to think. She could see the main entrance out of the corner of her eye, but there was still no sign of Leo.

Mark led her through a set of country dances several of which were unfamiliar to her. By the end Tara was breathless and laughing with the effort of following the steps and keeping an eye on the door. ‘I thought you had promised your first dance to your sister,’ Tara said as they retired from the dance floor to a sofa flanked by a little cluster of ferns in pots.

‘Caroline!’ Mark said, looking rather rueful. ‘Yes I did. If you’ll excuse me I’d better go and see if I can make it up to her. This is her first proper ball. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not at all,’ Tara said and had to admit to herself she was secretly relieved. Mark was very nice, but she was having trouble keeping her mind off Leo and it made it difficult to make conversation. She sat where she was for a moment, watching sets reform and rather hoping no one would notice her on her own and ask her to dance when out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement at the head of the stairs. She peered through the fern fronds and her heart gave a tremendous leap. It was Leo!

He paused at the top step, apparently surveying the room in much the same way as she had done. Was he looking for her, Tara wondered? He must be, who else would he be seeking? But did he hope or hope not to find her there? The insidious thought wormed its way into her mind despite her best efforts to believe that everything would work out between them. Then, as Leo took his first step down the butler announced him.

‘Lord Leo Fosse!’

Tara’s heart seemed to stop and start again. For a few seconds she couldn’t breathe. Then she took a gasp of air and felt her heart thud at twice its normal rate. Leo was a lord! Surely not! How could she not have known such a thing? But Lord Davenham’s butler would not have made a mistake with his title. Leo was a lord, she just hadn’t known it. Then understanding tumbled hot on the heels of that realization. No wonder Leo had reacted so badly when she had offered him employment. A lord did not take a job as an estate manager, it was unthinkable. What on earth could she say to him to mend the offence?

Chapter Fourteen

Davenham Manor was conveniently situated only a short walk from Leo’s cottage. He had considered riding as it looked like rain, and a horse would make the return journey, possibly in a downpour, shorter if not actually more comfortable. But riding would have inevitably left traces of horsehair on his clothes, and Leo wanted to appear impeccable tonight. He had brought a limited wardrobe with him from London, but fortunately he had packed for mixing with society at Rodney Hulme’s house party. He had starched and dried his cravat in the sun that morning and tied it carefully, ensuring he would not have to undo it and start again, thus risking the crispness of its snowy peaks. He had had his hair trimmed by the barber Mark had recommended in Bournemouth, his knee boots were polished to perfection and despite having seen a few seasons cut of his coat could still compete with the best Saville Row had to offer. Looking in the small sliver of mirror which he had acquired for personal grooming, Leo was satisfied with his appearance, despite his meagre resources he looked every inch a lord.

At Davenham Manor Leo paused at the top of the stairs, looking down into the ballroom, seeking Tara. He vaguely heard his name being announced and reluctantly made his way down, still scanning the room for her. It was impossible for her not to be here, Lord Davenham’s ball was undoubtedly the highlight of the Bournemouth summer, Tara could not dream of missing such an occasion, but she was not on the dance floor nor was she seated with the matrons around the edges. He caught sight of Lady Penge dancing with their host and felt a small wave of relief, if her mother was here then Tara must be also. Perhaps Lord Davenham had a card room set up somewhere. Tara might be there. Ignoring the pointed looks from the society mothers seated nearest to the stairway, who were no doubt considering it his duty to dance with their dreary daughters, Leo made his way across to a promising doorway on the other side of the room.

She couldn’t stay where she was, Tara realized. If Leo were looking for her, and she had no doubt he was, then he would see her sitting across from him the moment he re-emerged from the card room. Hastily she skirted around the edge of the ballroom, looking for somewhere where she would be unobtrusive, or even a retiring room, although hiding in one all evening was not a prospect that appealed to her.

She had found nowhere, and then the door from the card room swung open. Without waiting to see who was coming out, Tara grabbed the nearest young man. ‘I’d love to dance,’ she babbled, heedless of the fact that the country dance in progress was well underway. Fortunately she had chosen well. The young man - and when she looked at him properly he seemed very young - looked startled but flattered. Gallantly he took her arm and they inserted themselves at the end of a set.

For the moment she was safe from Leo. Tara suspected she would not be able to avoid him all evening but she was still so mortified by the discovery that he was a lord that she did not know what to say to him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leo come out of the card room. He saw her immediately and an odd look that she could not interpret crossed his face. Quickly she averted her eyes, but it was too late, he knew she’d seen him, yet given the way they’d parted he could hardly expect her to rush over to greet him, could he?

The dance ended, and her young partner thanked her gravely for the dance before strutting away with a spring in his step, no doubt going to tell his friends how he had been as good as seduced by an older woman. For a second Tara watched him indulgently then flicked her gaze back to Leo. He was striding purposefully towards her. Tara started edging away through the dancers, more intent on keeping half an eye on Leo than on looking where she was going.

‘Lady Tara,’ the voice of the man she had nearly collided with was deep and melodious and Tara could not place it. She took a step back and saw she had virtually run into the host of the ball.

‘Good evening, Lord Davenham,’ she said, wondering how quickly she could end the conversation. Lord Davenham smiled benignly at her.

‘You are very like your mother,’ Lord Davenham said. Tara looked at him sharply, momentarily distracted, no one had ever said that to her before. ‘Do tell me about her while we dance.’ Tara heard herself give a little social giggle with a hint of hysteria in it. Her mother’s interest in Lord Davenham was clearly returned but while Lord Davenham was offering her another avenue of escape from Leo she could not picture herself finding anything coherent to say on the topic of her mother at that moment.

‘I’m afraid, Lord Davenham, that Lady Tara has promised this dance to me,’ Leo’s laconic tones from behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up, but whether from anticipation or dread, Tara could not say.

‘I beg your pardon, Lord Fosse,’ Lord Davenham said, every inch the correct gentleman, ‘I did not realize.’

‘Not at all,’ Leo said smoothly, executing a short bow in Lord Davenham’s direction. Then the musicians struck up in the familiar three time rhythm of the waltz and Leo held out his arms to Tara. She realized she was neatly trapped. Other than storming away and causing a scene, she had no choice other than to dance with him. His hand closed over her own and his other hand rested on the small of her back with as much ease as if they had done this a thousand times before. If she were judging by touch alone Tara would have said Leo was not angry with her at all, but she knew better. She still did not know what to say - or rather she did know, but she could not quite bring herself to apologise for offering him the position of her estate manager, so she stayed silent, wondering what Leo wanted.

Although Tara moved with him in perfect synchronicity, she was tense in his arms as she had never been before and Leo realized in dismay that mending bridges was not going to be as easy as it had seemed when he had talked the situation over with Caroline a week earlier. Of course there was a lot he hadn’t told his young cousin. Uneasily he recalled the way he had accused Tara of toying with Mark’s feelings and her sharp retort that it was none of his business. She had then made it perfectly clear that she would not renounce her friendship with Mark, but would let it progress as it would. He had never seriously considered Mark a rival for Tara’s affections, but suddenly, with Tara stiff and silent as she went through the motions of the waltz he wondered if he had underestimated his affable and unassuming cousin’s charms. Had his friendship with Tara indeed developed into something more? There was one way to find out.

‘Did you travel here with the Reeves tonight?’ the question came out more harshly than Leo intended, he sounded like an interrogator and it was hardly surprising that Tara should pull back from him even further and look up at him with startled eyes.