"It comes of your habit of speaking before you think," Celia said without trying to comfort her friend. "You know I do not like other people to solicit partners for me, Rachel. All the time I am dancing with them I think that they would probably rather be anywhere than with me. Lord Rivers is a perfect gentleman, but still I have heard him say that he does not particularly enjoy dancing."

"Oh," Rachel said, biting her lower lip and looking even more guilty, "you mean my asking Algie if he would dance the second waltz with you. But how silly, Celia. He will not mind in the least. He knows that you are my particular friend, you see."

"But still, Rachel," Celia said firmly, "no more, please. I had rather sit among the chaperones all evening than have a single gentleman coerced into dancing with me."

"Well, Mr. Gower was not coerced," Rachel pointed out. "He asked you of his own free will."

"More to save me from some embarrassment, I think," Celia said. "But what was it that you were feeling embarrassed about?"

"Asking Mr. Gower to waltz with me," Rachel said. "How dreadfully forward of me, Celia. What must he think of me, do you suppose?"

"He probably thinks that you are a rather giddy young lady," Celia said mercilessly.

Rachel grimaced. "I was afraid so," she said.

Indeed since the morning she had recovered her senses to quite a marked degree. She had been presented to a perfect stranger in the middle of a public street and she had both fallen in love with him and solicited his hand for a waltz at a ball that evening. What a dreadfully lowering admission to have to make to herself. How vulgar! And how ridiculous when it had turned out that the stranger was a clergyman and the new vicar of her own parish to boot.

He really was dreadfully handsome, of course. But no, it was not his looks merely that had had her reacting so foolishly. It was that character she had detected behind his face and his eyes that had attracted her. But still, she did not know him. Not at all. It was more than stupid to think of being in love with him. And what would she do with such an infatuation anyway? She could never look on the man as a prospective husband. She was going to make a dazzling match when she married. Or failing that, she was going to marry Algie.

And that would sound dreadful too if she had put the thought into words, she thought, watching the maid cut the thread and smooth out the silk underdress and its covering of Brussels lace. There would be nothing whatsoever wrong with marrying Algie. He was a baron, perfectly well-set-up, quite respectable. She thought it entirely possible that she would marry him, and from choice too. She really did love Algie. It was just that marriage to him would not seem dazzling in any way. Comfortable, yes. Secure, yes. Dazzling, no.

Well, she thought, twirling before the mirror to make sure that the mended gown still fell perfectly to the floor, she was going to enjoy the evening. The first waltz with Algie. The second with Mr. Gower. She should not have asked him for that dance, but since she had, she was going to enjoy it, and she was going to show herself that he was merely an attractive man. She was not in any danger of losing her heart to him. Very far from it.

And the opening set was to be danced with the Marquess of Stanford. That had been a huge surprise. The man was known as one of the most eligible and elusive bachelors on the market. Not even on the market really. He must be well into his thirties already and showed no sign of giving up his single status, though he was wealthy, attractive, and charming, and had had mamas scheming for his capture for years. He very rarely singled out any of the young unmarried girls for any attention. And yet he had come up to her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, and before the accident with her gown, bowed and smiled, and entered his name on her card next to the opening set.

"We had better go, Celia," she said now, smiling her gratitude to the maid who had repaired her gown, "or we will miss the first set. Mr. Pope is to lead you out?"

"Yes," her friend replied. "And you are to dance with the Marquess of Stanford, Rachel? You will be the envy of every female at the ball."

"I do hope Algie arrives before the waltz," Rachel said. "And Mr. Gower for you, of course."

***

Lady Rachel Palmer was not difficult to spot in the ballroom, David found as soon as he and Algernon made their appearance halfway through the opening set. Perhaps it was because she was dancing with the Marquess of Stanford, a man who always seemed to draw all eyes his way. David remembered him from four years before when he had been in London last. Even at that time Stanford had been considered the catch of the marriage mart. He seemed able to combine those two fascinating qualities of warm charm and elusiveness. And it seemed he still wove his magic. David did not think that his were the only eyes on the couple.

There were Algie's, for example. He was actually watching them through a quizzing glass, a half-smile on his lips.

"Trust Rache!" he said with a chuckle. "Opening the Simpson ball with Stanford. She won't stop talking about it for a month."

David looked at her. Yes, even without her present partner, she would still draw eyes her way. She was extremely lovely, of course, as he had not failed to notice that morning. In the ball gown, about which she had boasted earlier, she looked exquisite, her figure, which he had been unable to judge beneath her pelisse, quite perfect. Everything was beautifully in proportion. It was not just her figure and gown that drew the eye, though. Indeed, there were many ladies present almost equally as lovely. It was not her dark hair and eyes either.

There was something else about Lady Rachel. It was the life and energy radiating from her. One had only to look at her to see that she was totally absorbed in her enjoyment of the scene and the activity around her.

Yes, a very attractive young lady indeed. He would doubtless have been smitten by her had he met her a few years before. At that time beauty and liveliness had been the only important attributes in a female. He had not looked for any greater depth of character. He now thought now it was a shame that girls such as Lady Rachel should be raised and educated in such a way that all their energies became devoted to the pursuit of frivolity.

David smiled to himself. He was at a ball, and what activity could be more frivolous? He might as well enjoy it. And indeed there was a certain delight in looking around yet again at a lavishly decorated room, heavy with the sight and scent of flowers, bright with the light from myriad candles, gay with the gowns and waistcoats and evening coats of fashionable dancers.

He looked around the room and located Miss Barnes, dancing with a young man he had not seen before. The waltz for which he was to partner her was next, he had learned. She looked quite pretty, dressed far more becomingly than she had been that morning. But she was not the sort of figure to draw attention. And yet she undoubtedly had far greater depth of character than her friend.

"Algie!" The set was over, Lord Stanford had already executed his bow and left Rachel, and a small cluster of her loyal followers was already hovering around her. She was hurrying toward the two of them, her face beaming with all the sunshine of her gaiety. "How fortunate that you spoke up for the first waltz earlier. My card is quite full already, and here is Sir Thomas Rey trying to persuade me to scrub out one name and insert his. I have been telling him how very naughty he is even to suggest such a thing."

David smiled when her eyes moved with a rush over Algie's shoulder and met his. Her flush of excitement seemed to deepen. "Good evening, Mr. Gower," she said. "Are you the one I must thank for getting Algie here on time? He has a dreadful habit of being late, you know. I was quite fearful that he would not be here in time for our waltz. I would never have recovered from the mortification of being a wallflower."

David bowed. "I believe you have his valet to thank this evening, Lady Rachel," he said. "The man was in top form and ruined only four neckcloths before achieving the creation you see before your eyes."

Rachel giggled and tapped her fan against Algernon's arm. "It is splendid, Algie," she said. "You look very distinguished."

David turned to Celia, whose partner had brought her to join the group. "Miss Barnes," he said, "how very charming you look in blue. Am I still to partner you for the waltz?"

She curtsied and blushed as she smiled back at him.

***

The second waltz of the evening was also the supper dance, Rachel had noticed as soon as she had consulted her program. She did not know quite if she looked forward to it or not. It was still dreadfully embarrassing to remember that she had asked Mr. Gower for the dance while on Bond Street that morning. And now he would not only have to dance with her, but he must also lead her in to supper and converse with her there until the dancing began again.

What if he had no wish to do either? What a dreadfully lowering thought! It would not normally have entered Rachel's head. She had grown to assume that most gentlemen sought out her company with some eagerness. But Mr. Gower was not most gentlemen. She rather suspected that he was quite different, in fact. And so she felt distinctly uneasy about the approach of the waltz.

He had not even glanced at her since greeting her at the end of the first set. She could swear it because, annoyingly, she had glanced at him a great many times. He had remained in the ballroom, unlike Algie and many of the other gentlemen, who disappeared quite frequently, probably into the card room, she suspected. And he had danced each set. He had talked almost constantly with Celia during the waltz. She had wondered what they had found to talk about. It was true that she had prattled almost nonstop to Algie, but then she always talked, while Celia rarely did.