Delaney gave her a devilish grin and wheeled about, striding confidently toward Miss Penelope Stevenson.

Dan Brewer laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, Del loves a good mystery! He’s quite a jokester, Miss Jameson. You’ll have to forgive him.”

Chauncey became very still. “Del?” she asked, her voice thin and high.

“Of course,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “My partner, Delaney Saxton.”

8

“You’re a fool, Chauncey, a hundred times a fool!”

“Ma’am? Forgive me, I didn’t hear what you said.”

Chauncey pulled herself together for her partner’s benefit. He was a shy young man who was dancing with her as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. “I was just . . . thinking aloud,” she said, forcing a thin smile to her lips. She paused a moment and waved a negligent hand toward Delaney Saxton.

“I understand, Mr. Hewlitt, that Miss Stevenson and Mr. Saxton will soon be giving San Francisco a wedding celebration.”

Mr. Hewlitt chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit of long standing, Chauncey supposed. “I reckon so, ma’am. Miss Penelope is such a pretty little lady, and Del . . . well, everyone wants him to have only the best. Yep, I guess they’ll tie the knot soon.”

Everyone sings his blasted praises! Has he never shown his true colors here? She shook her head slightly in answer to her own silent query, remembering the saying the folk of Surrey fondly repeated: “No thief ever steals from his own house.”

The dance ended at that moment, and Chauncey again turned toward Delaney Saxton. He had just raised Penelope Stevensons’ small hand to his lips. When he straightened, he looked directly at Chauncey and gave her a bow and a wicked smile. She froze, wondering if he were going to approach her again.

But he didn’t. She danced until her feet ached. She met every lady worthy of that exalted title in San Francisco and endured every gentleman’s fulsome compliments. It was past midnight when Dan Brewer claimed her again for a waltz.

“Doesn’t everyone unmask at midnight, Mr. Brewer?” I want to see his face, look at his eyes.

Dan Brewer choked. “Well, no, Miss Jameson.”

“Why ever not, sir?”

He mumbled uncomfortably, “It just isn’t the tradition, ma’am, that’s all.”

It was Miss Penelope who told her why, some minutes later, when both young ladies had removed to the ladies’ retiring room to refresh themselves.

“Oh, that,” Penelope said, waving a small dismissing hand. “Mama couldn’t allow that.” She giggled at Chauncey’s look of bewilderment. “Many of the ladies here tonight aren’t ladies. Everyone knows it, but no one says anything if they are masked.”

“They?”

“Loose women,” Penelope said, quite unconcerned. “After all,” she continued matter-of-factly, “there are so many men here. What are they to do? Even Delaney has a French mistress.” She shrugged, not at all concerned. “Of course he’ll give her up after we are married.”

Chauncey was silent a moment, chewing over this startling information. “So,” she said brightly after a moment, “when do you announce your engagement?”

“After Del convinces me, I suppose,” Penelope said, eyeing the Englishwoman from the corner of her eye. She hadn’t missed the two waltzes Del had danced with her when he had first arrived.

Penelope was rather silly and vain, Chauncey thought judiciously as she patted several strands of hair back into place, but still, she didn’t want to hurt any innocent person. She forced herself to ask lightly, “You must be very fond of him. I thought him very . . . witty.”

To Chauncey’s surprise, Penelope shrugged her shoulders pettishly. “Oh, that! I can’t understand some of the things he says sometimes, and he just smiles at me when I ask him to explain. I like him well enough. Daddy thinks he’s quite a catch. And since he’s been to England—indeed, even has English relations, royalty almost—Mama thinks the sun rises on him!”

Chauncey could think of nothing to say to this artless speech. He has English relations. So that was how he managed to trap her father! But why, she wondered, didn’t Paul Montgomery know of these relations? She temporized. “I hope everything works out as you wish it to, Miss Stevenson.”

Penelope gave her a superior, confident smile. “Oh, it will, Miss Jameson. I don’t imagine that you will be in San Francisco much longer?”

Chauncey almost smiled at the hopeful note in Penelope’s voice. “We will see,” she said. “I find I am much enjoying your beautiful city.”

Chauncey pounded her hapless pillow, but sleep eluded her. She doesn’t love him, she thought over and over. I won’t be hurting her heart, only her pride. She supposed she reached her decision just as the sun was beginning to rise over the city.

It was so simple, really. So simple and final, you fool! She climbed out of her warm bed and padded on bare feet to the windows. I wonder if he is awake yet. I wonder if he liked me. He certainly seemed to, she thought, even though he had avoided her the rest of the evening. What if he loves Penelope Stevenson? What if I can’t win him away from her?

Tags: Catherine Coulter Star Quartet Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net