She picked up her wrap and made her way to the great hall.
'Grandmama!' Her surprised exclamation echoed to the rafters, but did not discompose Lady Arabella.
'I have decided I shall come with you,' the old lady announced, rising from her chair beside the fire. 'We will show them that the Wakefords have nothing to be ashamed of.'
'No indeed, ma'am.'
'Does Grandmama not look well?' demanded Sophie.
Beth gazed with affection at her grandmother, admiring the severe black gown, high to the neck with white lace ruffles at the sleeves and worn with a black silk apron. She had a black-lace cap over her white hair and was wearing diamonds, a family heirloom consisting of an aigrette that was pinned into the lace cap, dainty ear-drops, a diamond collar and a wide bracelet clasped over the top of one of Lady Arabella's black gloves. The pieces had been passed down through the years; although Sophie might consider the enamelled gold setting adorned with diamonds and sapphires to be out of date and too conspicuous to be worn with the fashionable light muslins, there was no denying that they looked magnificent against Lady Arabella's black silk.
'She looks exceedingly well! But are you sure you want to come with us, Grandmama? It is some time since you ventured out … '
'Then it is high time I did,' retorted Lady Arabella. 'Besides, this might be the last time I shall wear the Malpass diamonds. I have no doubt Miles Radworth will claim them for his own as soon as you are wed. No need to look so shocked,' she added, smiling grimly at Beth's startled face. 'I am well aware that he has tied up the settlements to his advantage.'
'Grandmama, the arrangements are perfectly usual for a marriage contract,' said Beth gently.
'Hmmph!'
Sophie reached out to touch the old lady's arm. 'Do you not like Miles, Grandmama?'
'As a matter of fact I do not,' came the blunt reply. 'What's that line from Shakespeare that always comes to mind when I see him? "He has a lean and hungry look." Ah, Mr Davies, there you are. Well, now we are all ready, shall we go?'
The George was Fentonby's largest coaching inn and the Assembly Rooms had been added some thirty years ago. They were generally proclaimed to rival anything in York or Bath. Beth had rarely visited them, despite the fact that Lady Arabella had been one of the chief subscribers when they were built. Many of the great families had moved away from the area and those that were left preferred the more genteel society of Thirsk, so the rooms had been left to the enjoyment of the wealthy tradesmen and farmers. However, news had spread through the town that Mrs Forrester would be attending to celebrate her betrothal and it was with a sinking heart that Beth observed the number of carriages drawn up at the entrance as they turned into the High Street.
'The world and his wife are here!'
'We expected that,' said Sophie. 'Mrs Robinson told me the news of your betrothal was all over the town.'
'It is going to be a sad crush,' stated Lady Arabella, 'I suppose we must resign ourselves to it.' She leaned forwards, peering through the glass. 'Is that Sir John Marton and his wife? And I see Lord Embleton's carriage. Well, at least there will be some of our acquaintances there.'
The carriage pulled up at the entrance to the Assembly Rooms and the ladies waited while Mr Davies alighted and turned back to hand them out. Since he still needed the support of his walking sick, Davey gave his free arm to Lady Arabella, leaving Beth and Sophie to follow behind. As Beth had suspected, the rooms were very crowded and their progress into the ballroom was slow. Lady Arabella's appearance caused even more delay, since so many people wanted to talk to her. Beth was pleased by their attentions to her grandmother, not least because it meant that she could slip into the room in Lady Arabella's shadow. The press of people and confusion immediately inside the door gave Beth the opportunity to study the assembled company. She spotted Miles on the far side of the room, but made no attempt to attract his attention, for her eyes were drawn to the tall figure of Lord Darrington, who had just come out of the card room. His plain dark coat was no different from many of the younger gentlemen present, but his upright stance and athletic figure commanded attention. His brown hair gleamed in the candlelight and she watched him surveying the crowd, idly swinging his quizzing glass between his long fingers. Davey had told her the earl intended to be present and she had resolved not to pay him the least heed, but she could not tear her eyes from him. At that moment he turned his head, as if aware of her eyes upon him. Quickly she looked away.
'Mrs Forrester, are you ill?' Davey's voice was full of concern.
'It is nothing, sir, really.' But she realised with dismay that he had followed her glance.
'Ah, I see. Madam-'
'Please,' she said quietly, 'do not try to defend the earl! I will not listen to you.'
'I cannot defend him,' he replied. 'I have no more idea than you what he is about, but I would beg you, ma'am, to believe he is not your enemy. Have faith in him.'
'Impossible,' she said bitterly.
Sophie came up to them. 'Let us find seats,' she suggested brightly. 'Grandmama will want a chair, as will you, Edwin. Your leg is not yet healed enough for dancing.'
'True, and very annoying … ' he grinned at her ' … because I would have liked to stand up with you.'
They went off and Beth was left alone. She was aware of a moment of loneliness. Nonsense, of course, because she was well acquainted with most of those present and once Miles realised she had arrived he would keep her at his side for the rest of the night. She moved around the room, greeting one acquaintance, then another, her skin prickling because she knew the earl was watching her from the side of the room. It seemed that every time she raised her head he was at the edge of her vision. If he drew closer, she moved in the opposite direction. She saw him talking to Sir John Marton and judged it safe to return to her grandmother, but her progress was delayed as her acquaintance came up, eager to offer their congratulations, so that by the time she drew nearer to Lady Arabella Guy was there, laughing at something Davey was saying. Determined not to allow him to spoil her evening, she slipped away again. At every opportunity she smiled more widely and laughed more loudly, to show that she really did not care that he was present.
Miles came up. She schooled her features into a smile.
'You are looking very grand,' she greeted him, her eyes taking in his elegant powdered wig and dove-grey velvet coat. 'I vow you look fine enough for a royal drawing room!'
'But this is a very special occasion.' He lifted his watch and glanced at it before bowing over her fingers. 'I have been looking for you, my dear, but it was the worth the wait. You look … magnificent.' She felt the blood rising to her cheeks under his warm gaze and wished she had covered the low neckline of her gown with a muslin buffon. She gave an uncertain laugh and pulled her fingers free.
'Thank you. I was about to take a message to Grandmama. If you will excuse me … '
'I will, reluctantly. But I shall expect you to dance with me later.'
'Of course.' She kept her smile while he kissed her fingers, then moved off in the direction of the benches where Lady Arabella was sitting with Sophie and Mr Davies. She had not gone far when she found herself facing a solid wall of black cloth that was the Earl of Darrington.
Chapter Twenty-One
A fleeting glance at Guy's face showed her that he was looking very grim, the lines of strain accentuated around his eyes and mouth. She went to move past him, but his hand shot out and caught her arm. In the press of people no one noticed he was detaining her.
'Why would you not see me? Davey says you did not even read my letter.'
'I want nothing more to do with you.'
'Nothing! After we travelled nearly the length of England together?'
'I was grateful for your help, I told you as much,' she replied, desperately trying to remain calm. 'But you declined to help me any further. Our acquaintance is ended.'
'The devil it is!'
His grip tightened and, with a growl, he pulled her towards a small alcove at the side of the room. A waiter with a tray of wineglasses stood between the decorated pillars that flanked the entrance, but a sharp word from the earl sent him scurrying away. There were no candles near the alcove and the shadows engulfed them, robbing everything of colour.
'How dare you drag me here! You have nothing to say to me, my lord.'
Guy spun her round to face him. He said roughly, 'Just because I would not pay Clarice Cordonnier her blood money you think I have abandoned you.'