Free Suzanne Robinson by Just Before Midnight

he’s neat and proper.” Mattie whispered her plan in her friend’s ear.
    Narcissa gave her a startled look, then giggled. “All right. Give me a few minutes.”
    Mattie passed the time applying gobs of boot blacking to the inside of her gloved fingers and palms. Then, taking care not to touch her dress, she went to the ballroom. She craned her neck to peer over the heads of the guests and spotted Narcissa talking to Lancelot Gordon. Standing with his back to hisfriend was Cheyne Tennant. Mattie skirted around the dancers on the floor until she approached the group. Part of her knew she was descending to childishness again, but she couldn’t seem to resist the desire to get even.
    Slowing down, she walked past Narcissa and winked. As she came alongside Gordon, Narcissa moved quickly, appearing to stumble against Mr. Gordon. Gordon lost his balance and knocked Tennant into Mattie’s path. Mattie cried out and dropped to the floor at his feet.
    Tennant recovered his balance and looked down, his eyes wide. “What happened?” Recovering from his surprise, he seemed to remember his manners and knelt beside her. “Are you all right, Miss Bright? You’re not hurt?”
    “No, I’m quite all right, thank you. I just slipped when you stumbled against me.”
    “Please, allow me to assist you,” he said with formality.
    Mattie gave him her most charming smile, the one she used to beguile a reluctant motorcar into starting. “Thank you, my lord.”
    She held out her gloved hands, and he grasped them. Beneath the skin-tight kid she felt the tensile strength of his hands. He lifted her effortlessly, but kept hold of her hands as she met his gaze with her smile. His own gaze faltered, then returned hers as if finding something new and unknown, something foreign and fascinating. A moment passed in which the music and din of the crowd faded.
    Stray, dazzled thoughts flew about Mattie’s head.
He could pick me up without any effort at all. When he’s not sneering and scowling, his eyes are the color of wild hyacinth
.
    Cheyne Tennant blinked, stepped back, and released her. His features smoothed into a chilly mask.
    “I do beg your pardon again for my clumsiness, Miss Bright. Pray excuse me.”
    Jolted out of her magical trance, Mattie hardly heard Narcissa’s solicitous remarks. She was too busy giving herself a scolding.
Serves you right
, she told herself.
Think a man as pretty and elegant as that’s going to notice you when he’s got all the golden-headed English ladies he wants? I bet he likes the kind that cling and droop and prattle. He probably measures a lady’s refinement by how many times she faints in a day. The skunk
.
    Mattie glanced over her shoulder to see the skunk bowing to Lady Hortense. Waltz music began. “Excuse me, Narcissa.”
    She hurried to a corner behind a giant silver font filled with punch. Stripping off her soiled gloves, she dropped them in an ancient Chinese vase and pulled on a new pair she’d concealed in the same manner as the bootblack. Then she returned to Narcissa, who was talking to Mama.
    “There you are, Matilda,” Mama said. “Here is Lord Isidore Chelmer come to claim his dance.”
    A fence-post-thin man bowed to Mattie. He wore his hair in the new style, slicked down with scented pomade, and since his forehead was as prominent as his eyes, the effect was as if he wore a hair hat too small for his head. When Chelmer straightened fromhis bow, Mattie saw with dismay that he was several inches shorter than she was. He offered his arm, and they stepped onto the dance floor. When they came together, Mattie realized too late that Chelmer’s eyes were level with her chest.
    A gentleman would have kept his gaze fixed on her face, but Chelmer stared straight ahead, transfixed by Mattie’s bosom. Mattie could have endured the rudeness had it not been the fashion in Society for ball gowns to have extremely low necks. The rose silk and spangles barely covered her, and the longer Chelmer