Madrigals And Mistletoe Read Free Page B

authoritative confidence he exuded.
    She was surprised to see the gentleman smile a little wryly. “At the risk of sounding odiously puffed up in my own consequence, I am prepared to wager a sennight’s wage that your sister’s musical debut will be considered a vast success.”
    â€œSurely that is doing it a bit brown, sir? Why, you heard—”
    â€œSometimes what one hears and what one sees are two entirely different things.” Cordelia looked mystified at this cryptic remark, but the gentleman did not see fit to enlighten her. Instead, he suggested again that the sisters stay to brave out the evening, for that was surely the best strategy to quell catty tongues.
    â€œSo you noticed, sir?”
    â€œLila Mersham? She has nothing but my contempt. A spiteful, ill-bred lass, but a troublemaker unless I miss my mark. Stay and the dust will settle.”
    The gentleman refrained to say that his own hand would probably raise more dust than Lila’s ever had. He sighed. No doubt the ladies would discover that of their own accord. He only hoped he had not done anything precipate enough to raise expectations. On this thought, he politely returned Cordelia to her sister and made a charming bow. Bidding them both a fair evening, he vanished into the throngs, leaving the more sober Miss Camfrey to face her bright-eyed sister and dampen some of her overhigh spirits.
    Seraphina, it seemed, was an instant success. She was being hailed far and wide as society’s newest diamond. The fact that she could not sing did not seem to weigh too high with the gentlemen, each of whom assured her fulsomely that either her voice was heavenly—a tarradiddle even Seraphina could not, with equanimity, accept—or that entertainments at soirees were deadly dull and not, on any account, to be taken seriously.
    Cordelia could accept this, for there was no doubt her scamp of a sister was in excellent looks. What she was more puzzled about, however, was the interest of the various high sticklers, who made a point of introducing themselves and issuing select invitations. Lady Jersey herself did them the honour of a conversation, admonishing them to present themselves to Almack’s the following session. It did not signify, for the ladies had already come by vouchers through Ancilla’s friendship with Lady Cowper, but nevertheless Cordelia was fully sensible to the honour done them.
    The evening flew by without further incident. Lord Winthrop handsomely offered another dance to his betrothed, who had not the heart to refuse. As Cordelia tucked her graceful hand in his, she was overcome by a slight depression. She should not be making comparisons—they were unkind—but next to that of the enigmatic dark gentleman, Lord Henry’s padded frame seemed rather square. He still affected a wig and powder, choosing to adorn his frogged coat with all manner of seals and furbelows that, rather than increasing his consequence, diminished it. Cordelia could not help but feel that the austere simplicity of her captain—for she thought of him as that—spoke volumes for his taste. As she executed an exceedingly pretty entrechat, she could not help wishing things were different.
    Vivaldi’s poignant notes hung in the air as the dance finished and Lord Henry drew her from the circle. For the first time, he seemed to notice her shimmering gown with its low-cut front and high waistband, drawn together skilfully by a ribbon of dove grey satin sprigged with silver.
    â€œYou look ravishing tonight, Cordelia!” Miss Camfrey smiled and murmured thanks. Lord Henry appeared to be regarding her as though seeing her for the first time. “Shall we take a stroll in the gardens?”
    Cordelia glanced outside. The night was starry and refreshingly cool. The offer was tempting but slightly improper, given the fact that Ancilla was nowhere at hand. Still, Lord Henry was her betrothed, and if she could possibly