it would be her ball, just as every other hostess hoped that it might be her own. It was the social diarists in the society papers, though, who would pass judgement and decide.
Whilst they had been at court waiting to be presented, an army of magicians had been working their magic on Cadogan Place, preparing everything for their coming-out ball, or so it seemed to Amber when she saw the tiny lights shimmering in the trees and ornamenting the marquees, through the car window.
Lady Rutland didn’t allow her time to marvel, though, bustling the debs inside and into Renton’s efficient care, warning their maid that their guests would be arriving for the ball in just over an hour.
‘Don’t worry, your ladyship, everything is organised. Cook’s sent up a bit of supper for them to have before they get into their ball gowns.’
From her bedroom window Amber could look down into the gardens. She could hear the musicians tuning up. Her tummy was churning too much for her to be able to eat the light dish of baked cod sent up by Cook. The scent of fresh paint still permeated the house, even up here in her bedroom. It was a wonderfully balmy evening, a perfect evening for a ball, in fact.
Renton came bustling in, shaking her head when she saw that Amber hadn’t eaten her supper.
‘I’m sorry, Renton,’ Amber apologised, ‘I just can’t.’
‘Well, that makes two of you, because Miss Louise has left hers as well. Now come on, let’s get you out of that court dress and into your ball gown.’
‘Oh, Amber, this is all so beautiful,’ Beth gasped appreciatively two hours later, as they stood side by side in one of the marquees, flushed and breathless from dancing, and they drank the silver and black champagne cocktails that had been specially created for the ball.
The interior to the marquee had been lined with mother-of-pearl silk, and tied with white and black ribbons and bunches of white and silver flowers to match the huge urns of white and silver flowers outside. The black satin ceiling was covered in clouds of white tulle studded with tiny silver stars. Black and silver cloths covered the tables and the lights shone softly on the silver-gilt chairs, their backs tied with black and white satin ribbons and small posies of white gardenias and silver-painted foliage. It was a simple colour scheme and Amber had worried that it might seem dull after the exuberance of the many costumed and themed balls that were all the rage. But it looked simply magical.
Even the gowns Amber and Louise were wearing had been chosen to harmonise with the colour scheme. Louise was wearing a gown of silver lace, over an underdress of white satin with a daringly plunging back, so that her creamy skin was revealed through the lace. She had her hair newly shingled, which suited her, but she was sulking because her mother had refused to invite George Ponsonby.
Amber’s gown was in the bias-cut style of Vionnet, in four-inch bands of white satin, white seamed with narrow bands of tiny silver tissue stars. Amber too had had her hair shingled, but in a much softer style than Louise’s, and two pretty diamanté clips in the shape of hearts kept her curls in place.
Later, when Amber actually overheard Emerald Cunard remarking approvingly to someone that the pale colours of the debs’ gowns and the white theme of the marquee reminded her of the elegance of one of Syrie Maugham’s famous white room schemes, Amber’s heart swelled with so much pride that she thought it might burst.
Even Lady Rutland was smiling for once, graciously accepting everyone’s praise, although privately Amber knew that it was her own grandmother who should have been receiving it for she had been the one to plan everything. It bewildered Amber that someone with such a strong sense of style as her grandmother should turn her back on the fabric that to Amber possessed more of that quality than any other.
Even though the ball was far from over, it was already being pronounced a success. Amber could have filled her dance card twice over, thanks to the good offices of Lord Cadogan, who had generously stepped in to act as a male presence at the ball, and had also conjured up a score and more dashing young men with the right kind of pedigree from the Blues and Royals, who could be seen dotted here and there amongst the guests, their dress uniforms making a vivid splash of colour against the ladies’ gowns and the men’s evening dress.
Amber had danced with several of them herself, but best of all had been dancing with Lord Robert, who had kept his promise to come to the ball.
Lord Robert … There was a tiny bruised place in Amber’s heart now when she thought about him. She wasn’t going to be silly about it, she had told herself. And it would be foolish to give any meaning to Beth’s statement that he was falling in love with her. He must know so many pretty girls – prettier than she, and far more suitable. He was twenty-seven after all, a full ten years older than she. But he wasn’t married, a tiny voice in her head said … Amber’s heart gave a little thump, and then another as she looked up and saw that he was coming towards her.
‘I hope you are going to save me another dance,’ he told her.
Amber wanted to say that she would have saved him all her dances, had he asked.
‘Only if you promise that you will take me to West Compton,’ she told him.
She could see that she had struck the right note because his eyes had that lovely warm twinkle in them.
‘I’ve just been speaking with Diana and she said to tell you how lovely you look and how much she’s hoping you can be friends.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind.’
‘And Cecil says that he is extremely cross that your grandmother has not asked him to take a formal photograph of you, but that he is going to anyway, and that he intends to tell Lady Rutland so.’
Amber was becoming quite used to the flamboyant way of speaking and dressing adopted by Lord Robert’s set, even if something about the way that Ralph Seaforde watched Lord Robert all the time made her feel uncomfortable.
Both Lord Robert and Cecil had sent her corsages to wear, but instead she had worn the one that Jay had sent for her, laughing when Lord Robert had teased her about her secret admirer. She had been so thrilled this morning when the flowers had arrived with a small note to say that they were from Jay, and even more touched when she learned from Renton that he had actually telephoned and asked to speak to her to solicit her advice on what kind of corsage would be most appropriate.
Dear Jay. She wished that he and Greg could have been here. Lady Rutland and Louise weren’t her family, after all. In fact, she felt closer to Beth’s mother, and it had been the countess who had discreetly checked that she was holding her bouquet properly before she was called in to make her curtsy, and who had produced a clean handkerchief for her for those tears afterwards, as well as one for Beth.
Louise wasn’t enjoying the ball whatsoever. In fact she was very angry. With George and with her mother. Before she had learned that George was not going to be invited and that nothing she could say would change her mother’s mind, she had told George that she expected him to come and dance with her, but he had refused, saying that he had a prior engagement.
‘Then you must break it,’ she had told him imperiously.
‘If I do that then it will have to be worth my while to do so,’ he had responded.
She had known what he meant, of course, but she was not so stupid as to let him trick her like that.
When she hadn’t responded he had continued, ‘You would have to promise me something very special.’
‘You know I can’t do that.’
He had smiled at her then in a way that she hadn’t liked, saying smoothly, ‘Well now, I dare say your mother has been warned not to allow the heiress to meet any fortune-hunters. She’s a pretty-looking piece, I must say, and very tempting even without the grandmother’s money. Almost makes me wish I had a title.’
Louise had been so angry that she had tried to hit him, but George had been too quick for her, twisting her arm behind her back so painfully that she had cried out.
And