To Catch a Husband(9)

Between them, Lady Leaconham and Miss Harworth introduced Kitty to so many people—turbaned matrons, bewhiskered lords and eager young gentlemen—that there was no possibility of her remembering all their names, but she should not complain, for when the musicians finally began to play she had the satisfaction of walking out on to the dance floor to join the very first set. Her initial anxiety soon disappeared as she realised she was familiar with all the steps and she uttered up a silent prayer to the squire for employing such an excellent dancing master. After that first dance, she found there were a number of gentlemen eager to partner her and she began to enjoy herself. Rather to his mother’s surprise, Lord Leaconham arrived in time to stand up with Kitty for a minuet and even came back later to escort the two ladies to the supper room, where he remained to entertain them until it was time to return to the dancing.



It was towards the end of the evening when Lord Harworth came to claim his dance with Kitty. He appeared to be in the very best of spirits, although she suspected that the high colour in his cheeks was partly the result of the rather potent punch being served at supper. After a particularly lively country dance he pulled her hand on to his arm.

‘Well done, Miss Wythenshawe. My sister informs me this is your very first ball, but to see you dance one would never know it.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Kitty replied. ‘I did not expect to enjoy myself half so much. Everyone has been most kind, especially you, sir, and your sister.’

‘Phshaw!’ Lord Harworth puffed out his chest. ‘Think nothing of it, Miss Wythenshawe. Now, where shall I take you, who is your next dance partner?’

‘Why, sir, I do not think I have one, so perhaps you could escort me back to Lady Leaconham…’

‘What, no partner?’ cried my lord. ‘But these will be the last dances of the night. We cannot have you sitting out! I promised m’sister we would keep you amused tonight, so we must see what we can do…’

Lord Harworth raised his head and began to look about him.

Kitty disclaimed and declared herself perfectly ready to join her godmother, but her escort merely patted her hand as he raised his voice to address someone.

‘Blackwood—just the man! You are not dancing?’

The press of people had prevented Kitty from spotting Daniel Blackwood, but she saw him now as he stepped towards them, unsmiling, towering over her, a dark and brooding figure in the colourful crowd.

He said briefly, ‘No, my lord. I do not dance.’

‘Nonsense, man, you trod a very pretty measure with Ann earlier this evening, I saw you! I have here a delightful partner for you.’

Kitty went cold.

‘Believe me, my lord,’ she began, ‘there is no need—’

‘Nonsense, you will be doing Mr Blackwood a great service,’ cried Lord Harworth jovially. ‘I am appalled to think he has been standing around all evening.’

‘I assure you, my lord,’ Daniel began, his tone clipped, ‘I have partnered more than one young lady tonight—’

‘Then you must dance again, sir!’ Lord Harworth took Kitty’s hand and held it out. ‘Come along, Blackwood, take Miss Wythenshawe to the floor!’

Kitty thought she might die of embarrassment. Daniel, his face cold and shuttered, held out his arm to her and when she slipped her fingers on to his sleeve he silently led her away.

‘I am sorry,’ she managed, biting her lip. ‘I know you want this as little as I do.’

‘Society has its rules, madam, and we must both adhere to them.’

His indifferent tone had its effect in rousing Kitty’s spirit. She put up her chin.

‘For either of us to walk away would have given rise to conjecture.’

‘Quite,’ he replied. ‘So let us get through this dance as best we may.’

‘Certainly,’ she said icily. ‘After all, we need only stand up for one dance, and there is no necessity for us to speak to one another.’

However, once the music started and she put her hand into his, something very strange happened. It was as if she had danced with Daniel Blackwood many times before: their steps matched perfectly as they followed the traditional movement of the country dance and when they were required to separate their fingers seemed reluctant to part. Bemused, Kitty raised her eyes and regarded her partner, only to find him watching her with a fierce glow in his eyes that brought the colour rushing to her cheeks. She had danced with many gentlemen that evening, she had even performed a very stately minuet with one fair-haired young man reputed to be the epitome of a fashionable Adonis, yet none had had the same effect upon her. Not one of them had infused her with the soaring elation she experienced now, the feeling that she and her partner were alone in the room, the only people in the world.

The dance drew to its conclusion. He bowed, she made her curtsy, but neither made any move to leave the floor. The cry went up for the last dance and suddenly they were surrounded by even more couples, all jostling to find space. With so many dancers on the floor Kitty found herself very close to Daniel, so close that she could not move without her arm brushing his sleeve. Kitty looked up and saw the rueful smile upon his face as if he, too, realised there could be no possibility of maintaining a cool reserve once the lively music began. With a jolt of surprise Kitty realised she did not mind. Suddenly all the hurt and anger she had felt for the man melted away. He took her hands.

‘Are we ready, Miss Wythenshawe?’

She found herself smiling up at him.

‘Perfectly, Mr Blackwood.’

Kitty would never forget that final country dance at Harworth House. It was hot and noisy and it seemed as if all the world was crushed into the ballroom, everyone bouncing and skipping, laughing and shouting and determined to expend every last ounce of energy before they went home. Garston and Lord Harworth were on the floor, each squiring a handsome young lady, and at one point she came close to Ann dancing with the fair-haired Adonis, but Kitty hardly noticed them. All her attention was on Daniel. She no longer thought him dark and menacing. She could see beyond the rather austere cast of his countenance to the warmth in his dark eyes, the faint curve of his lips that was not quite a smile yet told her he was happy to be at her side. He was not the tallest man in the room yet to Kitty he stood head and shoulders above every other gentleman. He held her hand and led her confidently about the room, skilfully manoeuvring to put himself in the way and prevent her from being buffeted by the jostling dancers. He bore no resemblance to the boorish brute who had treated her so abominably, but instead was more like a guardian angel, strong, gentle and protective. She stole another look at him as he danced her down the line. No, not an angel: the strong jaw and athletic frame were more those of a warrior. A hero. By the time the music ended Kitty was the victim of such conflicting emotions that she dare not even look at her partner. She wanted to appear calm and assured, but she suddenly felt extremely shy.



Daniel was enjoying himself. It surprised him, for the stately minuets of the first part of the evening had been a lifetime away from the lively dances he had enjoyed at home and, although he had partnered one or two of the blushing young ladies Lady Harworth had brought up to him, he had found the evening a little dull. He had even considered how soon he would be able to make his excuses and retire. If Harworth had not persuaded him to stay in Cavendish Square he could have excused himself on the grounds of the long journey back to Greenwich. To leave the party and travel no further than the next floor would be the height of incivility.

He had been aware of Miss Wythenshawe from the first moment he had looked up and seen her at the top of the stairs, such a delightful smile on her face that his heart had flipped over, until he came to his senses and realised that there was no possibility that she could have directed such a smile at him, and he looked around him, trying to discover just who was the lucky recipient of her favour. He had done his best to prevent his eyes dwelling on her as she glided about the room in her sparkling white gown, her dark curls glowing in the candlelight. She had made it very plain that she despised him and thus she was not worth his notice. When Harworth had insisted he lead her on to the floor Daniel had fully intended to leave her after that first dance together, to make some excuse to quit the ballroom, but she had been so light on his arm, had danced so beautifully that he had forgotten she was the proud disdainful woman who had scorned him. He saw only an entrancing, ethereal creature that bewitched his senses. So he persuaded himself that it was only polite to remain for the last set. Harworth would expect it of him.

The final, energetic measure of the evening was much more like the assemblies he attended at Hestonroyd: too many dancers, too little space. He remembered standing up with his sister Bella, leading her through the movement of the dance and all the time trying to protect her from the other couples who were charging up and down the room. But this silver and white creature beside him was most definitely not his bouncing, boisterous sister! He was almost sorry when the music ended. He stood beside his partner as they joined in the spontaneous applause for themselves and the musicians, then he held out his arm, ready to escort her back to Lady Leaconham. Some of his good mood evaporated when he looked down at the still little figure beside him. Her lips were firmly closed and she laid only the tips of her fingers on his sleeve, as if she could not bring herself to touch him. He was disappointed at the change from his lively, sparkling dance partner. Silently he delivered her back to Lady Leaconham but in response to his parting bow her thanks to him were uttered in a cold, stilted manner and she turned away immediately. Daniel’s jaw tightened. So much for enchantment!