I smiled to myself. What was I really worrying about? Even if my aunt wished me to dance, first a man would have to ask me. By all accounts, that was extremely unlikely. Both she and my beloved twin sisters, kind and caring family that they were, had assured me on numerous occasions how thoroughly unattractive I was to men, with my tanned skin, wild hair and wilder manners. Apparently, according to the fashion of the day I was more likely to be taken for a fishmonger’s daughter or maybe a female gorilla in a dress, than a lady men would actually be interested in, which suited me perfectly. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and popped another piece of chocolate in my mouth.
Hmm…
Just leaning back and thinking of nothing… It was so relaxing. Maybe I could sit out the entire ball like this. I mean, why would anybody come here, into this secluded corner behind the potted plants? I could just sit and wait until we went home, eating chocolate. That wouldn’t be so bad. And then the awful evening would be over, and then…
Then it would be morning again.
A familiar face appeared in front of my mind’s eye. It would be morning, and I would have to go to work.
Blast! Why did I have to think about him now, when I had just achieved a measure of peace and managed to forget all about the existence of the overbearing, annoying and infuriating species known as ‘men’ for a couple of minutes?
But the more I tried to force his image from my mind, the clearer it appeared: his stark, angular features, his typical look of cool disinterest and, most of all, those dark, sea-coloured eyes that seemed like pearls from a bottomless ocean. Seeing all the opulent splendour surrounding Sir Philip Wilkins, I could not help but wonder why Mr Ambrose, who was supposedly one of the richest men in London, spent his days in an office with bare stone walls. I also couldn’t help wonder where he had gotten his money from, if indeed he was as rich as Maria had claimed. He didn’t seem to me like a wealthy landowner, not at all the sort of man to fit into London’s high society.
For a moment, I amused myself with the thought of how he would act if he were here. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d stick out like a shark in a flock of peacocks.
Then, suddenly, I was jerked out of my thoughts by the most unlikely thing imaginable. A voice beside me. A man’s voice. A man’s voice asking, in a calm, polite tone: ‘Miss Linton? Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’
Practicing Impertinence
My eyes flew open, and I looked up to see an upright, elderly military gentleman with an enormous moustache standing before me. Not Mr Ambrose. Definitely not. It was Colonel Remington, one of the many captains and colonels Sir Philip had introduced me to.
And why the heck had I been thinking of Mr Ambrose? He wasn’t even here!
The Colonel cleared his throat. Maybe he thought I hadn’t heard him.
‘Will you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Linton?’ he repeated.
‘Err… no,’ I said.
He turned a bit red in the face, and went away, looking rather affronted.
Hm… Perhaps that had not quite been according to etiquette? I racked my brains, trying to remember my aunt’s lessons. Hadn’t there been something about a lady never being allowed to refuse a dance unless she had already promised it to another gentleman? Well, if there was such a rule, it was complete bollocks.[20] I should have the right to choose not to dance with whomever I bloody well pleased!
Through a gap in the potted plants I could see Colonel Remington joining a few of his military friends - mostly younger officers. He was gesticulating quite energetically. No doubt he was conveying something he considered to be of some importance.
One of the young men laughed. ‘Maybe she just didn’t like the looks of you,’ he teased the elder gentleman.
My mouth dropped open. They were talking about me. Me! Well, at least that would ensure that I wouldn’t be bothered with any more invitations to dance this night. My lapse in courtesy would spread across the room like wildfire, and surely all those chauvinists would be revolted and shocked to the core. None of the men would even bother to give me a second glance after that.
‘I must have a look at that wench,’ the young officer continued with a wink, and my mouth dropped open a little farther. ‘Was she pretty?’
I couldn’t hear the Colonel’s more muted reply to this, but the young officer laughed again. ‘Come on, old boy, she must have been! And known it, too - quite a conceited little madam, to turn down an officer like that.’
He winked at the other young men around him and strode off. I could hardly believe that he was going to do what I thought he was going to do.
Nevertheless, when the dance had ended and the next one was approaching, I saw him striding towards me with a gait so pompous you could have identified him as a young military officer even if he had been missing his uniform, medals and underpants. He was accompanied by one of his friends who had already been introduced to me.
Both of them examined me not unlike one would examine a piece of meat on a butcher’s counter. I ignored them with magnificent composure and took another piece of solid chocolate from the plate beside me.
‘Miss Linton?’ Mr Familiar Soldier made an extravagant bow, and Mr Unfamiliar Soldier followed suit.
‘I don't know whether you remember me? I’m Major Rushworth. Sir Philip introduced us.’
I did not deign to reply immediately - after all, it was considered impolite to talk with your mouth full, wasn’t it? Instead, I finished my chocolate, and then plastered a smile on my face.
‘Sir Philip introduced me to a great many people,’ I replied sweetly. ‘Most of whom my unreliable memory has already unintroduced again. You, I’m afraid, are among them.’
It was half true. I had actually forgotten him. Nevertheless, my memory was usually very good - yet only for things I wanted to remember.
Major Rushworth blushed slightly but didn’t let that deter him.
‘Well, may I be permitted to introduce you to a friend of mine? To this gentleman, here, Lieutenant Ellingham.’
My eyes narrowed. I didn’t know much about etiquette, but I did know that the inferior person was always introduced to the superior. By deciding to introduce me to his friend and not the other way around, he had put me on a level below him. And that was something, considering the complacent smile on the lieutenant’s face, which I did not appreciate at all.
‘No, you may not,’ I told him. ‘But you may introduce him to me, if you like.’
