Page 21 of Anastasia and the Duke
"It's astonishing," one of them commented, as she lifted her quizzing-glasses to peer at Miss Blackmore, "She bears such a likeness to the poorcomtesse."
"I thought that I had seen a ghost when she walked in," her friend agreed, "She looks just as Giselle did when she made her come-out. Is it possible that she could be..?"
The taller of the two shrugged her shoulders, "Stranger things have happened. Do you recall when Lady Islington was thought drowned on theCaledoniaand turned up, very much alive, some two years later?"
"I do, m'dear," her companion replied, giving an amused chuckle, "And poor Lord Islington had already found himself a new wife. What a scandal that was..."
Oliver diverted his attention away, as the two tabbies began to discuss the scandal that had ensued from Lord Islington's accidental bigamy. It was not just his grandmother and Lady Lansdowne, then, who thought the resemblance between Miss Blackmore and the Comtesse de Bonneval startling.
Was it possible that Miss Blackmore was the countess' lost grandchild?
For a moment, Oliver allowed himself to be convinced that such a fairy tale might be possible, until his rational mind pulled him back to earth.
Indulging in such romantic notions was the preserve of those who had read too many Minerva-Press novels, he decided. He only read works of literary and intellectual merit and, as such, was above such things.
The music stopped, as the set came to an end, and Oliver realised that he must make a move, before another opportunist sought Miss Blackmore's hand.
"Excuse me," he murmured, as he pushed his way through the flocks of young ladies who barred his path.
He reached Lady Lansdowne's side at the same time that a flushed and happy looking Miss Blackmore arrived back on the arm of Lord Delphin.
"Hawkfield," the young baron bleated nervously, "Splendid evening, eh? I was just leaving, as it happens. Miss Blackmore, my thanks for your company."
Delphin offered the company a short bow, before fleeing on his dancing slippers at great speed.
"Someone evidently thinks they are treading on your toes," Lady Lansdowne whispered to him, before speaking again in a louder voice, "I would make introductions, but you have already met."
"Miss Blackmore," Oliver bowed in the young woman's direction.
"Your Grace," she replied, dipping into a shallow curtsey.
As she rose, her eyes met his, and a shiver of longing ran through him. He had never seen a woman so beautiful in all his life. Tonight, with her red curls dressed high and a few tendrils framing her heart-shaped face, she was bewitching. Like some sort of goddess come down to earth to tease mere mortals with her beauty.
Which was a rather fanciful idea, for a man who thought himself a champion of rational thinking.
"Would you care to step up with me for the next dance, Miss Blackmore?" Oliver queried. He knew the gossips would be in raptures when they saw them dancing together, but Oliver did not care. He could not be close to Miss Blackmore without wanting to be nearer again.
"I'm really rather tired, your Grace--ouch!"
Miss Blackmore's refusal of his offer was cut short, as Lady Lansdowne trod heavily upon her toe. The older woman cast the younger a warning glance, and with a great show of reluctance, Miss Blackmore relented.
"That would be delightful," she said, after a pause, though her tone hinted the opposite of her words.
Though his ego was wounded--for Oliver had never had any lady refuse him a dance--he held out his arm for Miss Blackmore to take. She gently placed a gloved hand upon his forearm, her touch so light it was as though she was afraid that she might be burned.
They moved together through the crowd, Oliver keenly aware that all eyes were upon them, until they reached the dance floor. Here, they found the dancers readying themselves for the next set, a cotillion, and Oliver took Miss Blackmore's hand and led her to stand alongside three other couples.
"You have made quite the impression on theton," Oliver commented, as they waited for the music to begin.
"I did not set out to," Miss Blackmore replied, casting a rather irritated eye around the room.
The guests had gathered at the periphery of the dance floor, no doubt to watch society's most famed bachelor dance with its mysterious new star. Though most were too polite to openly stare, it still felt to Oliver as though they were on a stage, performing for an audience.
Her reluctance to court admiration was perhaps what was so alluring about Miss Blackmore. True, she smiled politely when required, but there was an air of detachment about her, which only made one more curious. Even the way she moved--light of foot and filled with energy--added to her mystery, making one believe that she was a woman who could disappear in an instant.
Like a shooting star, Oliver thought, forgetting his earlier vow to relinquish any fanciful thoughts.
The orchestral quartet in the corner of the room struck up the first notes of the tune, and Oliver pushed all thoughts from his mind, as he took Miss Blackmore's hand for the first steps.
