The gray horses came to a perfect halt outside the house in Brook Street, having been driven on the entire return journey through the streets of London by Miss Thorne, and creating no small stir among those who witnessed the reasonableness of their attitude. Mr Moretyne had not been helpful to her confidence, holding himself tensely ready to make a grab for the reins at a moment's mishap, but like every skilled horseman she was capable of concealing her emotions from the highly strung animals and outwardly was the picture of calm.
"Well! That was a most delightful outing, sir, and I thank you for the honour of having driven your team." Miss Thorne gracefully accepted his hand to step down as the waiting groom ran to the horses' heads.
"I daresay you have done them no harm," he allowed. "Shall I see you at the Seftons' ball tonight?"
Eleanor recovered from her speechless outrage to give him an arch look. "Perhaps." She privately admitted to herself that there was little chance that he would not, Lady Sefton being one of her favorite hostesses as well as one of the leading lights of London society, but the game she played dealt in banter and flirtation. Besides, his vanity needed no assistance.
"If you do decide to grace her ladyship with your presence, might I request the honour of a dance?"
She tilted her head to glance up at him through her lashes. "I still have the supper set free." It was slightly brazen, to be sure, but he was not cooperating in her efforts to scare him away.
"Even better than I dared to hope," he bowed gallantly over her hand and finally released it so that she could stride up the steps of the townhouse.
Her pale gold silk gown was of a shade that would turn most other women sallow; on Miss Thorne it looked royal. She paired it with a delicate emerald set that had belonged to her mother, setting off her dark hair in an intricate upsweep. Her brother, rather lavishly attired in the new evening rig he had commissioned when Miss Webster confirmed her mother's acceptance of Lady Sefton's invitation, did her the honour of remaining at her side for a full five minutes after their arrival.
"I say, Eleanor, did the Websters not say that they would be sure to arrive in good time?" he inquired, then hastily tacked on "of course, I do not see the Charnwoods either, and it appears that Lord Lansworth is not present yet."
Miss Thorne managed to conceal a smirk at his prompt adjustment. "You need not be squeamish, Harry," she assured in an undervoice. "I would not have the smallest qualm about dear Harriet becoming part of our little family circle, she has a kind heart and a good head underneath that timid exterior."
"You would not have permitted our acquaintance had you any qualms about it progressing," her brother retorted with a boyish grin that strongly resembled the portraits of their deceased father.
"You know perfectly well that you have never waited for my permission in anything," came her sisterly rejoinder, and she dropped the topic as they were joined by several of her friends.
She did not immediately see Mr Moretyne or his cousin, but contrived to enjoy herself regardless, and when the supper set was forming was not surprised to find her promised partner at her elbow.
"There you are, sir! I had begun to think I was not to have the pleasure of dancing with you!" With a hidden smirk she attached herself to his arm in a cloying manner and was faintly suprised to notice that the arm she held was rather more muscled than she expected. Although one had to be in reasonable physical shape to achieve the feats of horsemanship that he performed, she mused, his picture-perfect dress habits had formed her now-proven-erroneous opinion.
The aggravating man did not even have the decency to move away from her clutching fingers. Instead he deftly rotated counterclockwise in her hold to bring his right hand around her waist in a fashion that if not for the strains of the waltz just beginning to strike, would have been a rather improper embrace. The fact that they were at the very edge of the dance floor, and not a few steps closer to the edge of the room, was all that kept her suspicious glance up at his face from turning into a pithy lecture.
Mr Moretyne swirled her around three times in perfect time to the music. "I thought that Harry mentioned expecting to see Miss Webster?"
"Yes, he has been looking for her all evening." Eleanor glanced around the ballroom as they turned another graceful circle. "He is over there dancing with Miss Buxted, but I have not seen Harriet or her parents anywhere."
"My cousin planned to attend too, but has not yet made an appearance." He spun her into a turn with their hands above her head.
When she came back around to face him, he had one eyebrow quirked in his favorite quizzical expression. "I do hope that they are not unwell. You know Mrs Webster occasionally has trouble with her heart-I believe she suffered some great illness as a child-and Harriet would be devastated should something happen to her mama."
The eyebrow dropped into place. "Perhaps they were delayed by a trifling incident, or decided not to attend."
"I shall not borrow trouble, then," Miss Thorne decided. "I did mean to tell you again, sir, how much I enjoyed driving your team today."
He smiled down at her. "I have my eye on a pair of Welsh chestnuts, but they have pale flaxen manes and would be incredibly difficult to match."
"If you decide against them, perhaps you would consider pointing me in their direction?" She used her most cajoling tone and completed it with the expression her brother was used to refer to as hurt-puppy.
"They have been in an accident, through no fault of their own, and I do not know how long it would be before they are fit to drive in town traffic."
Eleanor shook her head. "I do so detest cowhanded drivers!" At his amused glance, she corrected herself. "That is, it frustrates me when people ruin good horses through sheer ignorance. Ah well, if they are up to your standard, I daresay they will come up to mine, and I have plenty of quiet lanes around Thornedon that are perfect for steady drives."
"What makes you think I will allow you to take these horses to Thornedon?" His tone was all indignation, but the return of his quizzical look made her sure that it was a show.
"You are correct, sir, you have first option," she agreed amiably. "You will keep me in mind, though, if you decide that you are already well enough supplied with good horses?"
His arm came back around her waist in the turn and his smirk was so ironic that she could not tell whether he was flirting or making fun of her. "Miss Thorne, you shall always be at the forefront of my mind."