The Great Christmas Ball Read Online Free PDF Page B

with care. It was not for the family that she chose her most flattering gown of pomona green sarsenet with the ruched skirt and put on her small emerald necklace, usually worn only to balls. She knew perfectly well she had no hope of attaching such a dasher as Lord Costain. Indeed, she had decided not to fall in love with him. He was too boastful to please her, but he was a handsome, eligible parti, and she wished to make a good impression.
    Margold, her dresser and her mama’s, dried her curls and arranged them en corbeille, with a green ribbon to set off their chestnut gleam. She took up a fringed paisley shawl and went below.
    “Very nice, dear,” her mother said, running a practiced eye over her daughter’s toilette. “Does she not look handsome, Rodney?”
    Rodney lifted his white head from the latest journal and harrumphed what might have been agreement. What he was really interested in was his dinner. The aroma of mutton filled the house. Food and drink were the sole sensual pleasures left to him, and even a scholar needed some sensual stimulation. “Did Steinem pick up his letter?” he asked Cathy.
    “Yes, Uncle.” It had been removed from the door when she and Gordon returned. As there was a half crown on the doorstep, she assumed Mr. Steinem had left it in payment.
    Debrett’s Peerage occupied the place of honor at Lady Lyman’s right hand during dinner. She consulted it to discover what she could of the Halfords. She was flattered that Lord Costain claimed an acquaintance with the family, and concluded that it was his mama who had given him the notion. She was a Lady Mary Spencer before marriage. Lady Lyman had made her bows with a Lady Margaret Spencer, who was likely her sister.
    Before Lord Costain arrived at nine-thirty, Lady Lyman was deep into plans for a small rout to celebrate the Christmas season and entrap Lord Costain, and Miss Lyman was on nettles. Cathy’s body tensed like a coil when the door knocker sounded. And when Lord Costain was shown in, she admitted once and for all that she had never seen anyone so handsome. She had not thought it possible he could look better than he had that afternoon in his office, but she realized she was mistaken. The charm of immaculate linen against his swarthy complexion, the flush of rose in his cheeks from the weather, and the excellent tailoring of his black suit raised him a notch higher.
    He glided forward, directing one quick smile at her before making a graceful bow to Lady Lyman and her brother, Rodney Reynolds.
    “Have a seat, Lord Costain,” the mother said. “What a frightful night for you to come out. Not the weather you were used to in the Peninsula.”
    “But a welcome change. In Spain one misses the snow. It is letting up now. In fact, the moon has peeped out, suggesting the storm has passed.”
    Lady Lyman cared no more for the weather than she cared for geometry. “How is your dear mama?” she asked. As she spoke, her hand yanked the bell-pull to summon her butler, who was asked to bring tea at once, for Lord Costain was perishing with the cold.
    The leaping flames in the grate were more likely to melt than freeze him, but he was happy to be accepted with no hard questions. He knew, of course, that it was his eligibility and Miss Lyman’s single state that paved his way. Another fine line to be trod.
    When Lady Lyman said she would just remove a little from the grate and have a word with Rodney, Costain read her like a book. She wished to allow him privacy with Miss Lyman. As this was necessary, however, he smiled and rose to assist her with her shawl.
    When he sat down again, he sat in the chair next to Miss Lyman, She leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “Gordon is out on the town, as you suggested. Have you learned anything of the mysterious intruder?”
    “Not yet, but I shall keep the midnight rendezvous. You haven’t mentioned all this to anyone?”
    “No indeed! You may count on my complete confidence.”
    “I knew