Debutante in the Regency Ballroom: A Country Miss in Hanover Square. Anne Herries

quite safe. After a moment or two the slight apprehension left her and she found herself laughing at his teasing.

      ‘You are an enchantress,’ Northaven told her, giving her a burning look that sent tingles down her spine. ‘I did not realise how exciting a creature you were at first, Miss Hampton. I see that I must pay more attention to you in future.’

      Susannah laughed. She had lost her shyness and was behaving exactly as she did with all the friends she trusted, natural and innocent, but with a little boldness in her eyes.

      After their dance, Northaven gave her his arm, escorting her through the crush to the large room that had been set aside for supper. Several tables were set about the room, some of them already occupied. At one end there was a table laden with a magnificent buffet. Northaven guided her to a table near one of the open French windows and indicated that she should sit.

      ‘I shall fetch you a glass of champagne and something to eat,’ he told her. ‘What will you have?’

      ‘Just a syllabub, if it is no trouble,’ Susannah said and smiled when he replied that it was no trouble at all.

      As he went off to fetch their supper, she glanced around the room. Seeing a gentleman enter, her heart did a funny little skip. It surprised her, because until this moment she had not realised that she had missed seeing him these past couple of days. Lord Pendleton had arrived late, it seemed, because the duchess went up to him and seemed to berate him, tapping him with her fan and then nodding her approval at something he said. He glanced towards Susannah, appeared to frown and turned back to his hostess. He would in the past have smiled or inclined his head to her and the neglect was oddly hurtful. Susannah looked away, but he did not seem to notice, for he was deeply engaged in conversation.

      Northaven had returned with her syllabub when Lord Pendleton glanced her way again. Susannah saw the disapproval in his eyes as the marquis handed her a glass of champagne and set a little tray on the table. Remembering his warning and those of her mother and Amelia once more, she felt uneasy. It might have been wiser not to allow the marquis to escort her to supper, but there could be no real harm in it.

      ‘You do not eat?’ Susannah asked, for he had brought only her syllabub and a bottle of champagne.

      ‘I seldom eat much at these affairs,’ Northaven told her. ‘Try your champagne, Miss Hampton. I managed to find a bottle—one glass is never enough, is it?’ He sipped his own glass, nodding in approval as Susannah drank hers. ‘I see you like champagne,’ he said and refilled her glass. ‘You have excellent taste, for it is the Queen of the grape.’

      ‘I used to giggle when the bubbles went up my nose,’ Susannah confessed and laughed. ‘But I am used to it now, and, yes, I do like it.’ She seldom drank more than one glass, but it was making her feel warm and pleasant and she did not demur when he refilled her glass once more. However, by the time she had drunk a few sips of that, she had begun to feel too warm and fanned herself. ‘It is so hot in here this evening, do you not think so?’

      ‘Indeed, you are right,’ Northaven said. ‘Would you care for a stroll on the terrace, Miss Hampton? You will not wish to be too warm when the dancing begins again.’

      ‘Yes, thank you,’ Susannah said. She did feel as if she needed a little air and had quite forgot the apprehension she had felt when he took her hand earlier. Her head was a little fuzzy and she could not think clearly. She stood up and went out of the French door, feeling that she needed some air, hardly noticing whether he was following her. Her head was spinning and she felt odd, though she did not know why. She walked along the terrace, and then down the three steps that led to the lawns. She had expected the air to make her feel better, but instead she had begun to experience some sickness in her stomach and her instinct drove her towards the shrubbery where she could vomit, if need be.

      Feeling oddly light-headed, she did not even remember the marquis until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she stared at him in a daze, hardly knowing or understanding what was going on. She was beginning to feel decidedly unwell. Surely two glasses of champagne should not have affected her so badly?

      She tried to focus as the marquis came towards her, but his face was a blur. She blinked, because she felt that she might faint at any moment.

      ‘My beautiful darling …’ Northaven’s voice sounded peculiar, perhaps because her head was whirling ‘… how clever of you to find somewhere we can be alone. I have been wanting to do this ever since I saw you.’

      Susannah made a murmur of protest as he reached for her. The last thing she wanted was to be kissed at this moment! She held up her hands as if to ward him off, but her head was swimming.

      ‘No! No, you should not …’ she cried as his face loomed large in front of her and she knew what he intended. She put up a struggle, but it was ineffectual because she hardly had the strength to stand up, let alone defend herself. ‘Please, do not—’

      Her protest was in vain, for Northaven’s greedy mouth fastened over hers, his tongue probing at hers in an attempt to make her open to him. She became aware of his hands at her breasts, moving beneath the satin and lace of her expensive gown, touching her flesh. Suddenly, she was aware of danger and, gathering all her strength, pushed him away and screamed.

      ‘Be quiet, you little fool,’ he muttered, holding her arms, his fingers bruising her tender flesh.

      Susannah’s head was whirling as she struggled to break free of Northaven, but she was feeling so ill and dizzy that she knew she could not fight him. All at once she felt him move sharply away from her, as if he had been jerked back. She stared hazily at the little scene played out before her eyes, hardly knowing what was happening because she felt so sick and dizzy.

      ‘Take your hands from her, Northaven! She is not some country cit’s daughter you can ruin. Miss Hampton is a lady and innocent, and you are taking foul advantage!’

      ‘You mistake the matter,’ Northaven drawled. ‘I assure you the little innocent brought me here with no prompting. She was willing at the start, even if she did take fright.’

      ‘Damn you! You insult an honourable lady!’ Harry Pendleton said angrily. ‘Take your hands from her this instant or you will answer to me.’

      ‘I am prepared to—’ Northaven began, but at that moment Susannah made a gurgling sound and then lurched towards him, the vomit bursting out of her mouth and spraying in his direction. ‘Good grief!’ He jerked back in disgust, a look of horror in his eyes as some of the vile-smelling liquid splashed on his shoes. ‘She is ill. Take care of her, Pendleton. I swear, I had no idea …’

      As Northaven beat a hasty retreat towards the house, Harry took hold of Susannah’s arm. ‘You are unwell,’ he said gently. ‘You had best come and sit down.’

      ‘I am sorry,’ Susannah wailed and jerked away from him to be sick behind a bush once more. Harry waited until she had finished and then handed her a large white kerchief. He watched as she wiped her mouth. She was about to hand the kerchief to him, then looked at it and crumpled the fine lawn in her hand. She felt like weeping, and his shoulder looked so broad and dependable. She found herself laying her head against it, her tears soaking into his pristine coat. After a moment, her distress subsided and she drew away from his supporting arm. ‘I am so sorry. I will have the kerchief washed.’

      ‘Do not trouble yourself,’ Harry said. ‘Keep it until you feel better and then give it to me. I shall dispose of it. Sit here on this bench for a few moments until you recover.’

      Susannah’s head was beginning to clear. She looked at him uncertainly, feeling a little unwell and ashamed. ‘I do not know what happened,’ she said. ‘I drank two glasses of champagne, but … would they have made me ill?’

      ‘I do not think it,’ he said. ‘Something may have been slipped into your glass. I did try to warn you, Miss Hampton. Northaven is known for his misdeeds. You would not be the first young woman he has seduced and led astray, though the first gentlewoman to my knowledge. He normally chooses country wenches or the daughters of merchants, I believe. I cannot say for