Although Miss Thorne had looked forward to the evening at Almack's for the purpose of continuing her mission to promote a match between her brother and Miss Webster, she was forced to acknowledge that there had been some drawbacks to her plot for the discomfiture of Mr Moretyne. By the time she had been congratulated on her conquest by two sharp-eyed dowagers, endured the languishing sighs of a host of young men certain that they could not compete with the claims of so noted a bachelor, and been archly quizzed by three young ladies behind whose words of praise she had no difficulty in detecting bitter jealousy, she had almost decided that the scheme would cause more trouble than it was worth and that sufficient work had been done to allow her to forget the entire matter.
This opinion lasted for all of the opening set of dances, in which she laughed and chattered and frankly enjoyed herself in the company of unexceptional partners, and was in no way hindered by the fact that the subject of her schemes appeared to be absent.
When she settled into a chair beside Harriet, removing from her friend's uneasy presence the flatteries of Lord Wansbeck by dint of a steely gaze aimed in his direction, she was in a glowing mood, and not even the inanities of Mr Horace Epworth as he delivered her a glass of lemonade could dampen her spirits.
Harriet directed as reproachful a look at her friend as such a sweet-tempered young lady could muster. "Eleanor, have you not heard the rumours?"
"What rumours, my dear?" Miss Thorne inquired cheerfully. "Do you speak of the ones that say that I am setting my cap at an influential position in society, or the ones that claim that a certain gentleman is intent on increasing the size of his income?"
"How can you talk so lightly of it?" Harriet gasped.
Eleanor raised her brows. "I confess that my personal favourite is the rumour which thinks that I am trying to cajole the gentleman out of holding my brother to his gambling debts."
"But Harry—Mr Thorne does not play for high stakes!" Miss Webster's hasty correction did not go unnoticed by her friend.
"And when has the truth ever affected the spread of gossip?"
This was so unanswerable that Miss Webster subsided, however she revived when Mr Harry Thorne extracted himself from the attentions of a blushing damsel in a white gown which turned her skin crimson and crossed the room to where they sat.
"Harry dearest, you will not mind keeping Harriet entertained?" said his sister with comfortable certainty. "I promised this dance to Mr Standen, and I see him heading this way."
"Of course, pleasure to see you again, Miss Webster," Harry replied easily. "In fact—was hoping that I might have the pleasure of this dance. Ought to dance well together, you know—names are so similar."
Mr Standen claimed Eleanor's hand before she could hear the response to this remark, but judging by the pretty blush that coloured the lady's cheeks as she was led into the set at least one of Eleanor's schemes was bidding fair to become a success.
As the hands of the clock approached the time when the doors were firmly closed against latecomers, Miss Thorne expected that she was safe from the prospect of the materialization of the subject of her other scheme, but the hour lacked but five minutes to eleven when an impeccably-dressed figure strolled into the club. She noticed him immediately out of the corner of her eye, refusing to allow herself to be caught gazing in his direction, and contrived to appear oblivious to his arrival until he stood before her. Her only hope was that the impression was not spoilt by the gigglings and whisperings of the two girls with whom she had been exchanging pleasantries, as they demonstrated a marked tendency to openly admire the gentleman.
"Miss Thorne, may I request the pleasure of the next waltz?"
She was under no illusions about the significance of being the first lady spoken to upon his arrival, and was more certain than ever that his pursuit was not genuine in spite of the particularity that this action would indicate. She therefore accepted graciously, concealing her cynical amusement at the disappointment of her companions when he failed to gratify their hopes, and allowed him to lead her toward the floor.
Before beginning the dance, however, he stopped and indicated a nearby gentleman. "If you do not object, I should like the pleasure of introducing my cousin, Captain Lansworth, to you."
Occupied with her appearance of unconsciousness, she had failed to notice Mr Moretyne's companion when they entered. "I would be delighted to make his acquaintance," she agreed serenely.
The Captain was taller than his cousin, dressed in a coat that was excellently made but aspired to no heights of dandyism. Observing the two men, Eleanor would have been hard pressed to identify them as related without benefit of an introduction, the Captain being fair-haired, with laughing blue eyes, and a sunburned complexion. "Miss Thorne, may I present Captain Lord Frederick Lansworth, lately of the –th Cavalry?"
Eleanor offered a curtsey and a genuine smile as he bowed. "I believe that I have already had the pleasure of meeting your mother, sir. She told me that her son was in town on military business, but she did not say that we were to have the pleasure of your company."
"Well, I did not know it myself until tonight." The Captain directed a sly glance toward his cousin. "Moretyne here insisted that I would find more enjoyment in joining him than in spending an evening at home, so here I am."
"Have you sold out, then?" Miss Thorne inquired.
"I have. It seemed that with the cessation of hostilities, there were fellows much more in need of their rank than I, and I had a curiosity to see what life was like as a civilian."
She decided that she liked the merry twinkle in the Captain's eyes and his frank manner, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her dance partner.
"My dear fellow, I thought you required an introduction, not a whole conversation. You are occupying a dance meant to be for two persons instead of three," Mr Moretyne drawled the words in his most quelling manner.
Captain Lansworth appeared unaffected. "In that case, Miss Thorne, would you do me the honour of the next waltz, and we may talk without interruption?"
"Certainly, Captain, if you feel yourself competent to deal with the inevitable challenge that will be levelled in your direction by certain gentlemen." Eleanor directed a significant gaze toward several hovering gentlemen of decidedly dandified appearance.
"Granville, you had better take her and dance!" The Captain clapped a hand to his heart as though wounded. "I am not certain that I will survive this conversation!"
Miss Thorne's laughter trailed behind her as Mr Moretyne swept her into the waltz.
He looked down at her with a curious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I perceive that you are wondering how he could be the son of my eccentric Aunt Priscilla, who has never been noted for her address or discretion."
In actuality she had been wondering how a gentleman as aggravating as Mr Moretyne could possess a cousin as pleasant as Captain Lansworth, but she was disinclined to minister to his vanity by revealing this. Instead she resorted to a coquettish smile. "You are quite mistaken, sir, I have been thinking how very fortunate it is that a dance as exhilarating as the waltz has made its way inside the hallowed halls of Almack's.
"Ah, but the waltz is only exhilarating when danced with such a delightful partner," he returned smoothly.