Free Elizabeth Mansfield by The GirlWith the Persian Shawl Page B

let him see how right he is! But that act of refusal gave her only the bitterest of satisfaction.
    Later, Sir Edward claimed her for a country dance known as Horatio's Fancy. "Your mother refuses to stand up with me," he complained as soon as they joined hands.
    "Don't take offense, Sir Edward. Mama insists that dancing is for young women only," Kate explained.
    "That's deuced nonsense," he said, huffing and puffing with the strain of performing the steps. "If elderly fellows like me can do it, I don't see why—"
    But Kate did not hear the rest. She was distracted by the conversation of the couple just behind her. One of the voices was Harry's. "I've heard the warning repeated often," he was saying, "that love and marriage must be regarded as two separate states. You see, in the game of love, no matter what fellow you marry, you're certain to find, on waking the next day, that he's someone else."
    Deirdre's high-pitched laughter rang out. "Oh, Harry," she cried loudly enough for the people near her to turn about, "you can't cozzen me. I know that your eternal 'in the game of love' is nothing but a dreadful tease!"
    The movement of the dance separated them, and Kate could hear no more. But she couldn't help mulling over Harry's words. What did he mean by them? Was he trying to warn Deirdre away from wedding the fellow who was supposed to be his good friend? Or was he only teasing, as Deirdre had said? Then a truly dreadful possibility occurred to her. Good heavens, she asked herself in horrified confusion, does he want her for himself?
     
     

 
    FIFTEEN
     
     
    Sir Edward, having handed Kate over to her next partner, Percy Greenway, made his way back to where Isabel was seated beside a potted palm. Still puffing from the effort of dancing, he mopped his brow with a large striped handkerchief and dropped down on a chair beside her. "Your daughter dances delightfully," he announced.
    "Thank you," Isabel said, keeping herself from smiling at his obvious exhaustion.
    "You surely dance as well as she," Edward went on when he'd recovered his bream. "You should have stood up with me."
    She felt a wave of annoyance. How long would the fellow keep harping on her refusal to dance? "I hope, Edward," she remarked, "that you are not the sort who whines when he doesn't get his way."
    "Whine?'' His eyebrows rose in offense. "I don't whine."
    "No one believes himself to be a whiner, even if he is one," she said bluntly.
    "I am not a whiner!" he cried. "I see nothing 'whining' about expressing disappointment at your refusal to dance with me."
    She dismissed his defense with a wave of her hand. "We would have made a laughable couple."
    "Why?" he demanded.
    "We both look so ... so peculiar."
    "Peculiar?" He was truly puzzled. "Why do you think we'd look peculiar?"
    "I because of my feathers instead of my widow's cap, trying to appear youthful. As if I could possibly appear youthful with this plump, middle-aged figure of mine. And you..." She hesitated.
    "And I?" he urged, leaning forward.
    "And you with your powdered hair and long waistcoat that's at least two decades out of date. One would think you'd never even heard of Beau Brummell."
    "I've heard of him," Edward muttered. "It doesn't mean I have to dress like him."
    The doors to an adjoining drawing room opened at that moment to reveal a lavish buffet. Several of the guests who were sitting on the sidelines watching the dancing rose and started to move in that direction. Thankful for an opportunity to escape from this discussion that was beginning to sound very much like a quarrel, Isabel suggested that they join the parade toward the repast.
    They did not speak as they joined the buffet line with their platters. While Isabel allowed the waiters to pile up her plate with mushrooms and oysters and seafood cakes and assorted soufflés, Edward waved most of it away. He was seething. "I don't see why you want me to dress like Brummell," he muttered at last
    "All the other men dress like