‘If he listened more,’ she corrected.
‘Ah, reaching for the stars, I’m afraid,’ he said, in commiserating accents.
‘Oh, so you believe me unequal to the task?’ she said. ‘Do you realise that I would have been prepared to marry much, much worse than Pemberton?’
His smile faded a little. ‘I believe it,’ he said at last. ‘And I do not think you unequal. Though I confess to wishing the whole endeavour were … unnecessary.’
Kitty faltered, a little perturbed that he should have ruined their fun with such a weighty statement.
‘That would have been quite a different world indeed,’ she said at last, clearing her throat a little and looking down for fear that the moment would otherwise become quite unbearably intimate.
‘Do you expect to be invited to waltz, tonight?’ he asked after a pause, and she was grateful for the change in subject.
‘I suppose we shall have to see, though I think it unlikely this evening,’ she said, trying for levity. ‘Are you fearful a lady patroness might suggest yourself as a partner? I have not forgotten the strength of your refusal when last I asked – no doubt Lady Jersey would be shocked by your sudden dash from the room …’
Her tone was playful, but Radcliffe’s gaze, when it met hers, was intense.
‘I rather think,’ he said slowly, ‘that my answer should be quite different, if you asked me to dance now, Miss Talbot.’
Kitty was silent. She stared at him, for once not able to think of a thing to say. Instead, she allowed herself to imagine it for one stolen moment – what it might be like to waltz with Radcliffe, and not with Pemberton. It would be quite different, she knew. Quite different indeed.
She was not sure how long they would have stood there, in the wake of these words, but she did not get to find out, as the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them. Pemberton was standing before them, scowling at Radcliffe.
‘Miss Talbot, I believe you promised me this dance?’ he said imperiously. ‘It’s the cotillion.’
Kitty swallowed. She forced herself not to look over at Radcliffe.
‘Yes … thank you,’ Kitty said, numbly. Mr Pemberton took her arm and walked her away to make up the set.
Radcliffe turned abruptly, too – he’d be damned if he was going to watch. As he headed away from the dance floor, he found himself face to face with Hinsley.
‘Harry,’ he gripped his friend’s arm in welcome. ‘It is good to see you. Are you well?’
‘Not really,’ Hinsley’s expression was sour. ‘Dashed awful thing to do, only serving lemonade and tea. How am I supposed to get through a conversation with Pemberton on such stuff? Barely escaped with my life.’
‘Well, he shall be quite preoccupied with Miss Talbot for some time, I believe,’ Radcliffe said. ‘So you should be safe now.’
Radcliffe was sure his voice had been calm, his expression even, that he had conveyed nothing out of the ordinary in any part of his bearing – and yet Hinsley was looking at him with dawning realisation.
‘Oh, so that’s how it is,’ he said, beginning to smile.
‘That’s how what is?’ Radcliffe asked with a snap in his voice. Hinsley held up his hands, laughing.
‘Don’t bite my arm off! What’s stopping you, then? Worried how Archie would take it?’
‘Harry, I do not have the faintest idea what you are talking about,’ Radcliffe lied. ‘If you are going to continue talking nonsense, I beg you take yourself elsewhere.’
He pretended to catch the eye of someone in the distance. ‘Excuse me, I believe Lady Jersey has need of me.’
‘I’ll expect to see you in Hyde Park tomorrow!’ Hinsley called after him, grinning. ‘Don’t forget!’
Spotting the Lady Sefton approaching with a beady look in her eye, Captain Hinsley beat an early retreat and fled the assembly rooms forthwith. Deciding to walk home, for the night was brightly lit by the moon, he turned right for Mayfair – and ran into Archie, who was hurrying in the opposite direction.
‘Slow down, old thing,’ he said jovially. ‘What has you in such a hurry?’
‘Promised my mother I’d escort her,’ Archie gasped. ‘Quite lost track of time.’
Hinsley grimaced at him. ‘It’s past eleven, Archie, they’ll not let you in now.’
Archie deflated. ‘Blast,’ he cursed.
Hinsley looked more closely at him. Had the boy always been that pale? He was clammy-faced and sweating, though that could be down to his hasty journey.