Dreamspinner Read Free Page B

debutantes, who stood in a nook half hidden by the feathery foliage of an aspidistra. The gas jets cast a blaze of smoky golden light over the assembly of ladies and gentlemen. Glittering like a fairyland, the ballroom had huge, gilt framed mirrors and an arched ceiling from which hung several crystal chandeliers. The buzz of voices mingled with the tuning of instruments from the musicians’ alcove.
    “My father encouraged his lordship to sign my card for two waltzes and a polka,” Juliet whispered, grimacing. “I’m afraid my parents regard him as a potential son in law.”
    “You could do worse.” Her fair features as dainty as a snowdrop, Maud fluttered a silk fan and confided, “My parents are favoring that beastly Roger Billingsgate. Imagine... I saw him spit into a vase of carnations when he thought no one was watching.”
    Juliet laughed. “What did you do?”
    “Affected not to notice, of course.” A gleam entered Maud’s nearsighted blue eyes. “On the other hand, he does have pots of money. Perhaps the right woman might tame the savage beast.”
    Amused, Juliet shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on it. If you’re wrong, you’ll be staring at him over the breakfast table for the rest of your life.”
    “Oh, fiddle,” Maud said with a dismissive wave of her fan. “I can scarcely see past my nose, anyway. Besides, we’re not schoolgirls anymore; I can manage any man—” Her words broke off as she squinted at the crowd. “Don’t look now, but I think that’s Breeton heading this way. Searching for you, no doubt.”
    Juliet kept her gaze longingly trained on the French doors leading to the formal gardens. “I’m tempted to hide on the terrace until the first dance is over.”
    “He’d only come after you. You’re too rich an heiress to let slip through his greedy fingers. Now, smile.”
    She assumed a civil expression just as Lord Breeton ambled out of the throng. The pompous dandy wore a stiff boiled collar and a shiny formal coat sporting a red rosebud on the lapel. Muttonchop whiskers and a thatch of curly brown hair framed his pallid face. His features were regular, except for the fact that nature had failed to provide him with a chin.
    “Your ladyship,” he said, bowing first to Maud, then to Juliet. “Miss Carleton, I was beginning to despair of ever finding you. Rather like chasing down a fox at a hunt.”
    The comparison irritated her. Dipping into the obligatory curtsy, she said sweetly, “Perhaps your lordship ought to have brought his pack of hounds.”
    He looked momentarily puzzled; then he let loose a braying laugh. “Hounds at a ball, you say—hee haw, now, that would create quite the stir, wouldn’t it?”
    Maud lifted the fan to her face and uttered a choked cough. Juliet wanted to sink into the polished parquet floor, but thankfully, his loud guffaw attracted little attention.
    “Are you all right?” she asked Maud in mock solicitousness. “A pity if you fell ill and had to leave the festivities.”
    “I’ll be fine.” Her eyes twinkled above the zealous wagging of her fan. “It’s this stuffy air. Settles in the throat, you know.”
    “I say,” interjected Lord Breeton, “the musicians are striking the first notes. Do pardon us, your ladyship.”
    Taking firm hold of Juliet’s arm, he whisked her toward the dance floor. The lively whirl of a waltz restored her sparkling gaiety; for all his faults, Lord Breeton was a superb dancer. So what if he could only converse on the horse and the hunt?
    Afterward, he delivered her to her mother’s side, where a morose young nobleman awaited his turn to partner Juliet. Another hopeful, she decided, as he droned on about the disrepair of his country estate, and then belatedly added a gushing testimony to the heritage of the house and his own ancient lineage.
    Never lacking for escorts, she danced away the hours. Between sets, she stood surrounded by a bevy of admirers as she drank champagne. The effervescent wine