‘Wow, that dress is couture?’ Georgia suddenly noticed how exquisite Sally’s dress actually was – the ostrich-feather trim, the pearlescence of the stiff tailored fabric just a little more beautiful and special than everyone else’s.
‘I got five of them,’ Sally said, guzzling down her fruit punch. ‘So let’s play hunt the eligible. Mum’s made a list of all the top deb’s delights to look out for.’
‘Deb’s delights?’
‘The men,’ she laughed. ‘Are you totally clueless? Pay attention, because one of them is going to be your future husband.’
‘Not likely,’ huffed Georgia.
‘Then why are you here?’
‘Come on, Sally. You can’t really look me in the eye and tell me you’re enjoying this. Turning up to parties, waiting, praying to be asked to dance, hoping, dreaming that it might lead to something more serious. I mean, did you see all the parents at the presentation, shuffling around, stiff, barely saying anything to one another? They probably had personalities once but marriage got in the way and drained it out of them. You’ve got a life to live. You don’t want to get married. You don’t want your wings clipped before you’ve even had the chance to spread them.’
‘But I want to get engaged. As quickly as possible,’ said Sally with astonishment. ‘You might say that you’ve got to live a little before you get married, but I think you only start living when you have found your other half to share the journey with.’
Georgia considered her new friend’s philosophy and wondered if she had a point. She took a prawn vol-au-vent from a passing silver tray and relaxed a little. Sally clearly wanted a playmate in her man-hunt, and besides, it would while away a few minutes until she could respectably leave.
Sally pointed out three Stephens, half a dozen Davids and a Malcolm who was apparently an interesting prospect if a bit of a lech. ‘Not safe in taxis’ was apparently the expression for men like him.
‘That’s Charles Darlington-Smith,’ she said, pointing to a distinguished redhead who stood head and shoulders above everyone else. ‘Nice family, good-looking, but it’s something like his tenth season, which does make you wonder what’s wrong with him.’
‘So delights are a little older than us?’ asked Georgia, her eyes still scanning the room.
‘Generally,’ confirmed Sally. ‘Which is a good thing, because I want a man not a boy.’
Through the crowd Georgia could see an upright dark-haired young man who was standing slightly apart from everyone else in a way that suggested he was enjoying being at the party as much as she was. ‘Well spotted,’ said Sally, nudging her. ‘That’s Edward Carlyle. Very rich. Family own a bank. Probably why he’s a bit of a snob. Nice manners, though, apparently. VSITPQ.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Georgia, looking at Edward Carlyle with intrigue.
‘More code,’ giggled Sally. ‘Very safe in taxis, probably queer.’
Georgia couldn’t help bursting out with laughter, and at that precise moment Edward Carlyle looked across and locked glances with her. She looked away and stepped back, embarrassed by the moment, wondering if he had heard them. She might not want to be here, but the last thing she wanted to be was rude, especially to someone who was probably feeling exactly the same about this night as she was.
‘Well, I’m heading back in there,’ said Sally with determination. ‘The husband hunt begins. Can’t let good couture go to waste.’
Georgia took another canapé and watched Sally disappear into the throng, si
lently wishing her luck.
‘Georgia Hamilton, what are you doing here?’
She glanced round to see a more familiar face coming her way. Marina Ellis had been one of her classmates at Madame Didiot’s. Although Georgia was grateful for the times Marina had allowed her first-floor bedroom window to be used as an escape route for the illicit nights out the finishing school girls used to have in Paris, she had still always found her a snob and a show-off.
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ she said politely, not missing the insinuation that she shouldn’t be at such a smart party. ‘How are you anyway? Having fun?’
‘We’re having such a giggle, aren’t we?’ Marina turned to her friend, whom she introduced as Melanie Archer.
‘The house is almost as distracting as the men,’ smiled Melanie, her eyes darting around the room like a hungry hawk’s.
‘I didn’t know you were friends with Sally Daly,’ said Marina, squaring up for a gossip.
‘I only just met her.’
Marina gave a low snort of what sounded like relief.
‘Well, don’t let her cling on,’ she said in a dramatic whisper.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ frowned Georgia.