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the statue she resembled, as lovely and perfect as marble — and as lifeless. Her gaze was fixed on, apparently, the opposite wall of the room. What on earth was the matter with her? The girl they called Incomparable Isobel was a lively brunette whose chatter masked Cynthia ’ s silence — but as Derek was focused entirely on Cynthia , her silence seemed louder to him than Isobel ’ s merry prattle.
    When he could bear it no longer, he chose a moment when everyone save himself and Cynthia were laughing, and lightly touched her elbow. “ Cynthia , ” he murmured, in a low and urgent tone.
    She stiffened. After a fractional pause she glanced in his direction, her eyes wide with reproof. And — fear? But the emotion flitted so swiftly across her features, he was not sure whether he had seen it or no. “S ir? ” she said icily. She did not quite meet his eyes.
    “L ady Cynthia , ” he amended hastily, sketching a bow. It must be gossip that she feared. Very well, he would play the game, if she wished him to. It was hard to pretend that Cynthia meant nothing to him, but she was right to guard her reputation. He gave her his most charming smile, the one he might use with any attractive acquaintance. “I seem to have reached the head of the queue at last. I hope you have managed to save me a dance. ”
    She bestowed upon him a distant, faintly bored smile. “I’ m so sorry, ” she said politely. Then, apparently as an afterthought, she added: “A nother time, perhaps. ” And she turned her shoulder to him in dismissal.
    Derek was stunned. Had he done something to offend her? If so, he must make amends — at once. He stepped back into her line of sight and touched her elbow again. “I beg your pardon, ” he said, with an earnestness that he hoped was audible only to Cynthia . “B ut I wonder if ... if ... ” He cudgeled his brain, trying to think of some innocuous thing to say. “I wonder if I might bring you a glass of punch? ”
    “T hank you, no, ” she said calmly.
    She did not appear angry. She did not appear, actually, to be feeling anything. But her faint, slightly incredulous smile seemed to put him at an infinite distance. And before he could recover his wits and think of another gambit, a broadly-grinning man in a striped waistcoat walked off with her and into the first set that was forming.
    Derek stared after them, absolutely flummoxed.
    The jovial chap who had addressed him earlier gave him a friendly dig in the ribs. “S he frosted you, begad! Seen her do it before, a dozen times. But you walked right into it, old man. ” He peered more closely at Derek. His good-natured grin faded a bit. “I say, don ’ t take it so hard. She ’ s famous for that sort of thing, y ’ know. Does it to everyone. ”
    Not to me, he wanted to say. But he said nothing. The words would be indiscreet, he told himself. The more painful thought — that the words would also be patently untrue — he shoved to the back of his mind. He would think about that later. Not now. Not in public.
    He gave the friendly chap a rather strained smile. “I suppose that ’ s why they call her the Frost Fair? ”
    “O h, aye! Didn ’ t you know? Ha! Ha! No wonder you look bewattled. ” He shook with laughter. “T he closest you ’ ll get to her is a dance or two, my friend. And never twice in the same night, mind! Not that you ’ d want to spend more than ten minutes with the chit. No one does. ”
    “W hy not? ”
    “W ell, if it ’ s your notion of a good time to dance with a wench who stares down her pretty nose at you and won ’ t say more than three words together —” The fellow shrugged, grinning. “I f she weren ’ t such a treat for the eyes, I daresay no one would bother with her. ”
    Derek frowned. “I t can ’ t be that much of a punishment to dance with her, ” he said, with some asperity. “T here were enough men queuing up for the chance. ”
    “O h, certainly! As you say. She ’ s all the rage.