Until the play was over, she had not had much time to think about the ball itself, but now she found herself somewhat nervous. It was several years since she had danced, and she had really not had much practice at any but country dances. She had never danced or even seen the waltz, which she heard was now all the rage. She hoped that she would not make a cake of herself by tripping all over her own or her partners' feet-if she had any partners, that was. She hoped that at least a few of the gentlemen would ask her to dance. Freddie surely would, and Stanley and probably Claude and Jack.

It seemed likely that Alexander would dance with her once, for form's sake. She hoped so. She was going to need all the memories she could collect after tomorrow. All that was left was this evening and the night. And the night would be short, with the ball beginning so late. It would be dawn, probably, before they went to bed. Their final night of love. Perhaps there would never be another. Anne gulped down a feeling of panic and won for herself a tut of disapproval from Bella, who was trying to clasp together a stubborn string of pearls around her neck.

Perhaps the whole evening would be a disaster, Anne thought. Perhaps Alexander would take no notice of her at all. She recalled the moment of alarm she had felt during the afternoon when he had been introducing her to a bewildering array of strangers. She had been feeling shy but happy to be on his arm, being presented to people who knew him well. But as soon as he had introduced her to Lady Lorraine Walsh and her new husband, she had been jolted. The very lovely, poised young lady before her was the girl to whom Alexander had been betrothed when he married her. Sonia had told her that. And she was in the house at this very moment and would be present at the ball. Perhaps Alexander would be paying her lavish attention. Perhaps she would see beyond any doubt that he still loved the girl. How would she be able to live with that knowledge afterward? The recollection of that would blot out all the other lovely memories with which she was to brighten the days and years ahead.

The reflected image of Bella was staring at her, eyebrows raised. Anne got to her feet and crossed to a long mirror, in which she could see the full effect of her gown. Yes, Bella had been right, as she usually was. The sea-green lace overdress over the royal-blue silk gown looked quite stunning. The lace had been caught up with small bows at intervals around the hem, to show the rich color of the underdress. She wore very little else to ornament her person. Blue slippers, a blue ribbon threaded through her hair, her pearls, and long white gloves completed the outfit. Anne stared at herself with satisfaction. She still had not got over the novelty of being slim. The high-waisted style of the dress, with its short, puffed sleeves and low neckline, made her feel positively dainty.

Anne slipped past the receiving line and entered the ballroom feeling nervous and conspicuous. Familiar faces from across the room immediately beamed at her, and an elegant exquisite, dressed all in gold, bowed in front of her and complimented her on her acting ability. And then Alexander was at her side and she smiled up at him with the sheer relief of no longer feeling completely isolated. He was smiling back, and her heart did a somersault.

"I hope you have reserved the first set for me," he said, taking her hand and laying it on his sleeve. "How beautiful you look, Anne. You quite put into the shade all these ladies in their insipid pastel shades."

She hardly had time to look up at him in surprise before the orchestra could be heard tuning up in the minstrel gallery and the duke and duchess appeared in the ballroom.

"Is Grandpapa really going to dance?" Anne asked. "Surely he will never be able to do so."

"Grandpapa has a will far stronger than any bodily ailment," Merrick said dryly. "I'll wager that he will dance the whole set before collapsing for the rest of the night. You and I will be expected to dance in their set, too, my dear. I am Grandpapa's heir, you know."

"Oh, no," Anne said, shrinking back. "I am not a dancer, Alexander. I shall not be able to remember the steps, especially if I know that we are the focus of everyone's attention. It would be far better if you led out Aunt Maud or Aunt Sarah or one of your cousins."

"Nonsense!" Merrick replied. "I will be expected to dance the opening set with my wife. And Grandmamma has instructed the orchestra to choose a tune that is not excessively lively so that Grandpapa will not find it too great a strain. It will be slow enough to give you time to remember the steps. Keep your eyes on Grandmamma and follow what she does. I shall help you, too."

Anne followed him apprehensively to the center of the floor, aware of eyes directed at them and aware that her husband had claimed this first dance only because it was what was expected of him.

Chapter 13

Two hours after the start of the ball Anne was feeling flushed and happy. She had not dreamed that she would be in such demand as a partner. She had not sat down since entering the room, and she had not danced with the same partner twice. Alexander, before leaving her at the end of the first set, had written his name in her card for both the dance before supper and the one after. And her card had quickly filled completely. She had been complimented on her appearance, on her acting, and even on her dancing by one young man whose own dancing skills suggested that he was hardly an expert critic.

She was standing now with her arms on the stone balustrade of the terrace outside the ballroom, enjoying the cool air on her cheeks and arms. Freddie stood beside her, leaning against the barrier, looking back toward the ballroom.

"So it is all settled," he was saying. "I am the happiest man alive, Anne. She knows I don't have brains, but she'll have me anyway."

"Indeed, I am very happy for you," Anne said. "Miss Fitzgerald is a very sensible lady, and my opinion of her good sense has increased in the last minute. Any lady would be fortunate to have won your love, Freddie, and she must realize it."

Freddie giggled. "She told me at first that she can bring no dowry and I must consider very carefully," Freddie said. "As if that would make any difference to me. Can you imagine, Anne? Dear Ruby!"

"Are you to make the announcement tonight?" Anne asked.

"Can't," Freddie replied. "Wouldn't be able to get the words out in public, y' know. M' mind would go blank. Can't ever remember things. Don't have too many brains, y' know. Not like Alex. And couldn't get Ruby to make the announcement. Wouldn't be fitting."

"No, it would not be fitting," Anne said.

"Besides," Freddie said, brightening, "haven't talked to the reverend yet. Her father, y' know. Must talk to her father tomorrow. Ask for her hand. The proper thing to do."

"Yes, you are quite right, Freddie," Anne said. "I had not thought of that. How clever of you."

"Ruby says we will get married during the summer," Freddie said. "Splendid idea. Addie and Rose will be able to come to London for next Season. We can find them husbands. Or Ruby can. Not me. I ain't got the brains to do it, but Ruby will know who is suitable for them. Splendid girls, Addie and Rose." He beamed.

"What a very kind thought!" Anne said. "You will be a quite wonderful brother-in-law, Freddie. Those girls are very fortunate."

"Have to go dance with Grandmamma," he said as the music from within the ballroom drew to a close. "Grandpapa is in the card room. He was roaring for someone to bring him a cushion to put under his leg when I saw him. Grand person, Grandpapa. Brains, y' know."

Before Freddie could escort Anne back inside the ballroom, they were joined on the terrace by Jack.

"Ah, here you are," he said to her. "The next set is mine, I believe. You may run along, Freddie. Grandmamma is loudly predicting that you will probably have forgotten that you are her next partner and that she will end up being a wallflower. Go and convince her that she is as much in demand as she ever was as a girl."

When Freddie had left, Jack turned to Anne and grinned. "Did I arrive just in time to save you from death by boredom with that intellectual giant?" he asked.

"I perceive that you enjoy having a joke at the expense of Freddie," Anne said, "but I shall not allow it. It seems to me that all his life people have been telling him that he is some kind of half-wit, and he was come fully to believe it. He may not have a great deal of intelligence, but he has something infinitely more valuable. He was sweetness and kindness and humility and I would choose him before an intellectual or a wit any day."

Jack's grin did not falter. "Anne," he said, "you are quite adorable when you are angry, you know. I apologize most humbly. I should have known you would take that idiot's part. I have noticed how you will go out of your way to try to make him feel good about himself. Why will you not do the same for me?"

"I think you already feel quite good enough about yourself not to need my assistance," she said.

"I have not felt particularly good about most of this fortnight," he said. "I have finally met a girl for whom I could feel a serious affection, and it turns out that she is already married to my arch-rival and cousin."

"Nonsense, Jack," Anne said. "You do not at all fit the image of a tragic lover. You wished to flirt with me and had your nose pushed a little out of joint when I showed you that I would have none of it. I suspect that rejection does not often come your way. You are too handsome and too charming for your own good, you know. And at this moment the goose bumps on my arms are so large that I fear they may burst at any moment. Please take me inside to dance."