felt weary and out of sorts, her mood not helped when she saw Alistair walk on to the floor with the charming Lady Jane Franklin on his arm. It was just what she hoped for and the sight was like a knife in the stomach.
‘Madam? May I assist you?’
Startled, she turned to find a gentleman at her side. He was slightly over average height, with light brown hair, hazel eyes and tanned skin. ‘Sir?’
‘I beg your pardon, but you sighed so heavily I thought perhaps …’
‘Oh, no, I am quite all right. Just bored, if the truth be told.’
‘Would you care to dance? I am sure I can find someone to introduce me.’
‘I fear I am not in a dancing mood this evening, sir. But thank you for offering.’ Impulsively she held out her hand. ‘Shall we forget propriety for a moment and introduce ourselves? I am Perdita Brooke; my father is Lord Wycombe.’
‘Lady Perdita.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘Francis Wynstanley. You may know my brother, Lord Percy Wynstanley. I am quite a newcomer to Almack’s myself; I have been in the West Indies for several years.’
‘And I am just back from India, so I am equally out of touch,’ Dita said.
A flash of crimson caught her eye and she saw it was the waistcoat of Evaline’s partner—and he was dancing with her again.
‘What makes you frown, if I may ask?’
‘My sister, dancing a second time with a man I do not know. See, the blonde girl in the pale green and the man with the crimson waistcoat.’
‘Oh, I can help you there. That is James Morgan, my brother’s confidential secretary. Percy is much involved in politics, you know, and Morgan is his right-hand man. Good character and all that, nothing to be worried about.’
‘No, indeed. If you can vouch for him I am quite reassured.’ But she was not. Confidential secretaries, however well bred, were not what her parents were looking for.
A week later her friendship with Lord Percy’s brother was pronounced enough for her mother to be asking questions. ‘He seems a most pleasant gentleman,’ she observed. ‘And intelligent. I spoke to him for a while at Lady Longrigg’s soirée last night. Has he any prospects?’
‘I really have no idea,’ Dita said, with truth.
‘I trust he is not some idler hanging out for a rich wife.’
‘Mama, we are friends, that is all.’
But she was provoked enough to probe a little as they sat in the supper room at the Millingtons’ ball. Alistair, she noted with a pang, was partnering one of Lord Faversham’s daughters and Evaline had her head together with James Morgan, which was worrying.
‘Do you make your home in London, Mr Wynstanley?’ Alistair was flirting, she could tell, just from the back of his head—and the way the Faversham chit was blushing.
‘I am doing the Season and living with my brother for the duration, but I have an estate in Suffolk I inherited from my maternal grandfather and I shall be basing myself there and seeing what is to be done to bring it about.’
‘How interesting. It needs much work?’
He was a nice, intelligent, apparently eligible man. It would be pleasant, but unwise, to continue their friendship. Was this whole Season to be like this, fearing to make any male friendships while she watched Alistair find his wife?
‘Good evening, Lady Perdita.’
Dita jumped and then managed a smile of welcome as Francis got to his feet. ‘Oh …’ Pull yourself together! ‘Lord Iwerne, Miss Faversham, may I introduce Mr Wynstanley? Mr Wynstanley: the Marquis of Iwerne, Miss Faversham.’
‘Will you not join us?’ Francis pulled out a chair for Miss Faversham and they all sat down again. Francis gestured to the waiter and wine and glasses were brought.
Dita met Alistair’s eyes with what she hoped was tolerable composure, only to find he was at his coolest, one eyebrow slightly raised. She stared back defiantly and engaged Miss Faversham, who appeared very shy, in conversation. Beside her she was aware of Francis undergoing a skilful interrogation—damn Alistair, he would be warning the man off in a moment!
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only fifteen minutes, Alistair rose. ‘Might I beg the honour of a dance, Lady Perdita?’
‘Why, yes.’ Her instinct was to refuse, but that would show she cared. She consulted her card. ‘The second set after supper?’
‘Ma’am. Wynstanley.’ He bowed and escorted Miss Faversham out of the supper room.