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  As Alverstoke moved forward to greet his wards, Chloë, her rapt gaze fixed on Charis, breathed: ‘Oh … ! How beautiful she is! like a fairy princess!'

  Mr Trevor glanced down at her, and nodded, smiling.

  ‘Well, my children?' said the Marquis paternally.

  Frederica's eyes twinkled, but she replied calmly: ‘How do you do, cousin?' and passed on immediately to Lady Buxted. ‘How do you do, ma'am? May I make my sister known to you? Charis, Lady Buxted – our kind protectress!'

  Lady Buxted pulled herself together, forcing a smile to her lips, and giving her hand to Charis dropping a slight, graceful curtsy before her. ‘I beg your pardon, ma'am, for not accompanying my sister when she visited you,' Charis said, in her soft voice. ‘I was so sorry!'

  ‘To be sure, you were laid up with a cold, or some such thing, were you not? Well, now I must introduce you to my sister, Lady Jevington,' responded Lady Buxted, rigidly cordial, and well-aware that Augusta had guessed how abominably she had been hoaxed, and was rejoicing in her discomfiture. The graciousness with which Augusta met the Misses Merriville confirmed her in this belief; and she was left to derive what consolation she might from the reflection that That Woman must be as deeply chagrined by the arrival on the scene of a transcendent beauty as she was herself.

  But Mrs Dauntry, who had never been known to betray such unworthy emotions as anger or resentment, received the sisters with even more graciousness than had Lady Jevington, summoning Chloë to be introduced to her new cousins, and subsequently drawing Alverstoke's attention to the charming picture Charis and Chloë made, as they sat talking together on a small sofa at the end of the room. Well within hearing of the Ladies Jevington and Buxted, she described them as the prettiest girls in the room, which, as Frederica stood outside this category, gently paid off several old scores, the only other girls present being Miss Sandridge, and Miss Buxted. ‘Not,' she added, with her wistful smile, ‘that I mean to compare them, for even to my partial eyes my little Chloë is a farthing to the sun of your lovely Charis. My dear Alverstoke, she will have half London at her feet!' She laughed, and looked archly up at him. ‘What enemies you will win to yourself amongst some of our matchmaking mamas! If my Chloë were not far too young to be thinking of marriage, I am sure I should be one myself!'

  Deeply appreciative, the Marquis had just time to respond: ‘Admirable, dear Lucretia!' before his attention was claimed by the arrival of the Seftons.

  The last of the guests to arrive was Endymion, who came in, looking like a handsome, overgrown schoolboy, detected in crime, and stammering an apology for his tardiness. He begged his cousin's pardon, and – with a deprecating glance round the room – everyone's! He had been on guard-duty – Cousin Vernon would understand – But at this point he broke off, suddenly seeing Charis, and stood staring at her in undisguised admiration until somewhat acidly recalled from this trance by Lady Jevington, who said that she believed he was already known to my Ladies Jersey and Sefton. This made him start, flush up to the roots of his hair, and utter some incoherent apologies, as he bowed to their ladyships. Fortunately, both were amused rather than offended, for although Lady Sefton was too goodnatured to take umbrage, Lady Jersey was a very high stickler indeed. Endymion was saved from one of her set-downs, partly because he was, in general, extremely punctilious, as well as being just the sort of handsome young man of breeding whom any hostess was happy to invite to her balls and assemblies; and partly because the Fanes and the Dauntrys had (as she phrased it) known one another for ever. One of her closest childhood friends had been Alverstoke's youngest sister: that Poor Eliza, who had married a mere Mr Kentmere, and almost vanished from the London scene; and although Alverstoke, four years senior to the fascinating Sally Fane, had never been amongst the aspirants to her hand and fortune, she frankly owned that she had a tendre for him, and ranked him amongst her oldest friends. He was some ten years younger than the Earl of Jersey, but well-acquainted with him, both being Harrovians, and rivals on the Turf and the hunting-field; and both residing, when in London, in Berkeley Square: a circumstance which, according to Lady Jersey, not only made them neighbours, but posed an insoluble problem: if invited to a dress-party at Alverstoke House, was it more proper to call out one's carriage, or to demean oneself by walking some fifty yards to the party?

  Lady Jersey was known, in certain circles, as Silence; but anyone who supposed that her flow of light, inconsequent chatter betokened an empty head much mistook the matter: she had a good deal of intelligence, and very little escaped her. She had been talking ever since she entered the room, and on an amazing number of subjects, ranging from the spate of nuptials imminent in the Royal Family to the escape of a gruesome murderer from the gallows, through the discovery of an ancient statute which allowed him to claim the right of wager by battle; but while she rattled on she had been taking mental notes, and very intriguing they were. She knew already, through a fellow patroness of Almack's, the haughty Mrs Burrell, who had learnt it from the lips of Lady Buxted, that Alverstoke had assumed the guardianship of some young cousins, and was doing his languid best to introduce to the ton the two females of the family, by inviting them to the ball given in honour of his niece; and that had been quite enough to titillate her curiosity. Far better acquainted with Alverstoke than Mrs Burrell, Lady Jersey did not for a moment believe that he had ever entertained the smallest notion of giving a ball in honour of Jane, or any other of his nieces. Then he must be doing it for the sake of his unknown wards – and that was very unlike him too. When she saw Charis, the thought that Charis was Alverstoke's latest flirt entered her ladyship's head only to be instantly dismissed. The girl was lovely, but not in Alverstoke's style. Innocent buds, just unfurling their petals, had never been numbered amongst his victims; and this one, besides being his ward, lacked salt. A beautiful ninnyhammer, decided Lady Jersey, whom Alverstoke would write off as a dead bore within five minutes of making her acquaintance. As for Louisa's glib explanation to her old friend, Mrs Drummond Burrell, that Alverstoke thought it his duty to take care of Fred Merriville's children, no one who knew Alverstoke could believe that. Then why – ? All at once a solution of the problem occurred to her ladyship. A glance at Lady Buxted confirmed it: he had invited his beautiful ward to this ball to punish Louisa! No doubt she had been plaguing his life out to give a ball for that plain girl of hers, and this was his revenge, devil that he was! Not but what she deserved it, thought Lady Jersey, for her demands on him were ceaseless, and she didn't care a rush for him. Lucretia, too: she was wearing a sweet, wistful smile, but she must be quite as furious as Louisa, perhaps more so, for in addition to seeing her daughter cast into the shade she was obliged to watch her cherished Endymion staring at Charis like a mooncalf.

  Then there were the Parracombes – or, rather, Mrs Parracombe, for it would be absurd to suppose that her rich but mutton-headed spouse was concerned with anything beyond his dinner and his string of race-horses. What, wondered Lady Jersey, had prompted Alverstoke to invite them to his dinner-party? His name had been pretty closely linked with Caroline's during the past few months, but lately he had not quite so often been seen in her company: in her ladyship's judgment, she had been rather too capricious, and very much too possessive. Had Alverstoke bidden her to this party, so obviously given in honour of his wards, with the intention of tacitly informing her that her reign was over? He was perfectly capable of it, wretch that he was! Poor Caroline! – but she should have known better than to have thought she could play fast and loose with Alverstoke! To have attached him was certainly a triumph; but to have supposed that she could hold him captive while she divided her favours between him and her other cicisbeos was a great piece of folly: his affections had never yet been so deeply engaged as to inspire him with the desire to outshine his rivals. If the lady whom he chose to honour with his (fleeting) devotion encouraged the attentions of other admirers, he left her with no more than a shrug of his shoulders; for, little though he might care he would not share