Secrets Of A Wallflower. Amanda McCabe

with a surprised expression. ‘Di? She’s a corker. Lots of fun, but sensible. Our aunt thinks she’s been a good friend to Alex.’

      Chris knew her well? William frowned as he wondered if his brother was fond of her, had designs on her. ‘You’re friends, then?’

      Christopher shrugged and William felt unaccountably relieved to see no spark of passion in his brother’s eyes at the thought of her. Chris was always quite open about his interests and always had a beautiful woman to write poems to. ‘I suppose we are. I see her at these boring old bashes with Alex and their friend Emily Fortescue, and they make it all a little less dull.’ His bored expression suddenly changed, his eyes widening. ‘Why? The footman did say you came this way with a lady. I hope it wasn’t Miss Martin.’

      ‘No, I didn’t come here with Miss Martin. I saw her in the ballroom. She seems quite charming.’

      ‘Charming? I guess she is. Pretty, too.’ Chris stepped closer, as if he thought he could read Will’s mind. But Will had too much experience hiding his thoughts; his job depended on it. ‘Are you interested? You could certainly do worse and Mother’s matchmaking fever could go to you for a while.’

      His brother’s avid expression was so comical William had to laugh. ‘Does she want you to marry so much, then?’ He had hoped that maybe his parents’ own wreck of a marriage would have cooled their mother’s ardour for matchmaking, but it seemed not. Maybe she wanted company in misery.

      ‘She begins to say that if I won’t go into law or join the army, an heiress is the only way to set me up in life.’

      ‘Maybe an American dollar princess?’

      ‘I don’t have a title or a crumbling ancient castle to offer a lady like that. And the ladies I do like...’ He suddenly turned away. ‘Well, Mother will just have to go on thinking I’m just a terrible wastrel who can’t even marry properly.’

      ‘She doesn’t know about your work?’

      ‘Of course not. I wouldn’t be much use if anyone did know, would I? But you and Diana...’

      ‘I hate to disappoint, but I’m not in a position to marry now, either. We both saw the effect our father’s work had on his marriage. No one needs a repeat of that. I shall have to admire Miss Martin from a distance.’

      Christopher spun a globe, watching its oceans and continents blur in front of them. ‘Better for her, I’m sure. I think Thursby is after her, but she doesn’t seem to like him much.’

      William frowned. ‘Thursby?’ He certainly hoped not, not with what he had recently learned about the man.

      Chris shrugged. ‘Then if it wasn’t Di in here earlier, who was it?’

      ‘Just a bit of unfinished business.’

      ‘Really?’ Chris’s golden brow arched. ‘You, Will? Whoever could have guessed there were such skeletons in your wardrobe. I suppose it’s finished now?’

      ‘Quite,’ William said shortly.

      Chris seemed to realise he wouldn’t learn anything more and turned back to the door. ‘We should get back to the party, then, before our aunt sends a search party for both of us.’

      William nodded, and started to follow. He noticed a small, pale square on the floor near the window. Curious, he picked it up. It was a leather-bound notebook, stamped with the gilt initials D.F.M. Diana Martin, maybe?

      He flipped through the pages, glimpsing pencil sketches, mostly of hats and gowns, and snatches of words.

      Champagne...pearls...peacock colours.

      From the back, a small newspaper clipping fluttered out.

      Writer wanted. Paris assignment. Must be fashionable and have a way with words. Portfolio preferred. Please apply to the Ladies’ Weekly offices.

      Well, well. William remembered Diana saying how much she wanted to see Paris. Maybe she was doing something about it. How very modern of her.

      He smiled and tucked the notebook inside his evening jacket. He would have to make sure it was returned to its owner. Very soon.

      * * *

      ‘There you are, Di! Where did you go off to?’ Emily called as Diana slipped back into the ballroom.

      She hoped she hadn’t been missed by anyone but her friends. She scanned the crowd and was quite relieved to see her mother still in her chair and Lord Thursby nowhere to be seen. Neither was Lady Smythe-Tomas.

      She turned to smile at Emily, whose cheeks were pink from all her dancing. ‘Just needed a bit of air.’

      ‘Well, you didn’t miss much, except the fact that this ballroom has become even more of a crush and someone tore the ribbon on my hem with their clumsy dancing shoes. But no drunken fisticuffs or dramatic broken engagements yet.’

      Diana laughed weakly and took an offered glass of liquid. She sipped a bit and winced in disappointment. Lemon squash, not champagne. ‘That sounds rather dull.’

      ‘Yes, but the dancing is lovely. I’ll say this for the Duchess—she always hires the best orchestras.’ Emily reached out and plucked something from Diana’s hair. She held it up; it was a shred of newsprint. ‘Where did you find this bit of air?’

      Diana thought quickly. It was always best to be honest, even if it wasn’t all the way. ‘Oh—in the library. It was nice and quiet, and I was able to read a bit about Paris in the Duke’s newspapers.’

      Emily leaned closer, her eyes wide. ‘Any word yet?’ she whispered. ‘From the magazine?’

      Diana shook her head, feeling the sick excitement, fear and hope deep in the pit of her stomach that had sat there ever since she mailed off the letter of application. ‘I have an interview tomorrow with the editor. Isn’t it amazing?’

      ‘An interview?’ Emily clapped her hands in delight. She knew more about running a business than anyone Diana knew, male or female, after years of helping at her father’s offices. She took it all very seriously and had given Diana a great deal of advice ever since Di decided she was the best confidante. ‘Shouldn’t you be at home resting, then? You have to be sharp tomorrow.’

      ‘Oh, I know. But Mama would never have let me miss the Waverton ball and I’m much too nervous to sleep. I was hoping to get a bit of fashion news to add to my portfolio. I did write a bit, you see...’ She opened her reticule to take out the notebook to show Emily. To her shock, she found only a handkerchief and her discarded dance card. ‘Blast,’ she gasped, remembering dropping the bag.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘I’ve lost the notebook.’

      ‘What’s amiss?’ Alex asked as she appeared from the crowd and hurried to their side. She always did seem to sense the feelings of the people around her, especially if they were distressed, even from across the room.

      ‘Di lost her notebook,’ Emily said.

      ‘No!’ Alex cried. She and Emily knew all the bits and pieces in that book, so carefully gathered and recorded. They had even helped with much of it. ‘Here in the ballroom? But anyone could find it.’

      Diana shook her head. ‘I had it in the library. I must have dropped it in there.’ In the library—with William. What if he found it? What would he think?

      ‘Diana! There you are at last,’ she heard her mother call. This time there was no evading her.

      Diana forced a smile on to her lips and turned to see her mother making her way towards them. With her was Lord Thursby.

      Diana had to admit he was handsome, with his fair hair pomaded to a shine, his stylish moustache and well-cut clothes. He smiled charmingly and was solicitous as he led her mother through the crowd. But she wished he would just—just go away!

      Yet