Elizabeth Powell Read Online Free PDF Page B

who was on his way up was as startled as she when they nearly collided on the landing.
    “Excuse me!” the servant exclaimed. He leaned against the wall to steady himself; the champagne flutes on his tray clattered, but remained upright. He sighed with relief.
    “Forgive me,” Amanda replied, breathless. Her jangled nerves screamed at her. “I should have watched where I was going.”
    The footman appraised her with careful eyes. “Are you lost, madam?”
    Amanda’s heart plunged into the bottom of her stomach. What should she say? She giggled nervously and clutched her dress. “Oh—well, yes. I was looking for a way back to the cloakroom, and the main stairs were so congested—someone stepped on my hem, you see, and I simply must repair it before the dancing begins. Tonight is so important, and I must look my best!” She cringed to hear herself prattle so. Mrs. Siddons she was not, but she was desperate.
    The servant gave her a knowing smile. “Of course, madam. Allow me to show you the way.” He turned anddescended to the bottom of the stairs, then waited for her to follow.
    “Oh, thank you!” Amanda gushed. Her knees wobbled as she trailed the footman down the corridor. If she had waited a few moments more before going down the stairs, she could have explored the lower floor unhindered; she guessed that most of the servants were either in the kitchen or upstairs in the ballroom. It was her rotten luck to run into one at this very moment.
    As the liveried footman led her down the main corridor, Amanda tried to guess which room was Locke’s study. Two chamber doors had been left open; these led to the breakfast room and a formal reception room. No, she surmised, the study door would be closed. At least that narrowed down her choices, but trepidation nibbled at the edge of her resolve. What if the door was locked? What if someone caught her as she tried to open it?
    The servant stopped at the cloakroom and bowed. “Here you are, madam. I trust your maid will be able to assist you.”
    Again Amanda assumed the air of a giddy miss, although the giddiness was genuine. “Oh, yes, thank you.” She slipped into the cloakroom, made a show of smoothing her dress for the benefit of the other guests, took several deep, calming breaths, and reemerged. The footman was gone. A shudder coursed through her. That had been a narrow escape. Now she needed to get back up to the ballroom before Harry began to wonder where she was. Botheration—if only she had more time! Well, she would make another attempt later.
    The main body of guests had gone through the receiving line, allowing Amanda to ascend the grand staircase unimpeded. Strains of music reached her ears. The dancing had started, which meant it might be easier for her to navigate through the crowd back to where Harry had left her, and be in place before he returned.
    No such luck.
    She wended her way through the people clustered at the edge of the dance floor. Harry stood where she was supposed to be, his face contorted in a scowl, his complexionflushed. Oh, dear—she had taken too long, and now Harry was going to fly into the boughs.
    “Where the devil have you been?” Harry demanded as she approached.
    She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m terribly sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to worry you. But I saw someone—a friend of my father’s. I thought he might recognize me, so I had to avoid him. I got caught up in the crowd.” She hoped that God—and Harry—would forgive her all these lies.
    Harry’s glower lessened only slightly. “Well, did you see anyone?”
    Amanda shook her head. “No, not right away. But there must be someone here.” She surveyed the dance floor and felt a sudden longing. She hadn’t danced in such a long time; surely one set wouldn’t hurt. “Dance with me, Harry.”
    “Dance with you?” Harry’s eyes widened. “What on earth for?”
    She sighed. Harry had never been one for more refined pursuits. “Because we might see