Jack Compton's Luck. Paula Marshall

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      ‘Fighting Jack,’ she almost stammered, so shocked was she. ‘How come you were called that? Your prowess in the ring, perhaps?’

      Jack shook his head. ‘Not really, although I boxed a little at Oxford and when I was in the Army before the war, but I was nothing out of the ordinary. I’m afraid I was something of a reckless daredevil, up to any silly jape I could think of.’

      Rupert, unused to being ignored, said, ‘Come on, Jack. Silly japes they might have been, but dangerous, too. Why, Lacey, the fellows used to bet whether or not he could bring off the most daring challenges he could find. He was a devil at night-climbing tall buildings at the Varsity, weren’t you, Jack? Why, I remember when—’

      Jack closed his eyes. ‘That’s enough, Rupert. I prefer to forget all that. You will give Miss Chancellor a very dated picture of me. I’m a reformed character these days. Quiet and dull, confined to the provinces.’

      Lacey, however, could believe that he had deserved his nickname. True, he had spoken to her calmly enough, but there was something about him that told her of a leashed strength, now well under control. Furthermore, she didn’t believe that anyone who was merely quiet and dull could have had such an immediate and profound effect on her.

      ‘The quiet and dull bit, I don’t believe. And, by the way, I’m not Miss Chancellor to you, Jack. I recently discovered that one of my ancestors married a Compton of Compton Place in Sussex over a hundred years ago—so we’re distant relatives, if you’re one of those Comptons.’

      ‘Is that true, Jack?’ asked Rupert eagerly. ‘I’m related to the Comptons of Compton Place,’ he told Lacey, ‘so if you’re related to him, then you’re also related to me. You never told me that before, Lacey,’ he added, somewhat reproachfully. ‘Does that mean Darcey is related to us as well?’

      Darcey smiled, ‘Afraid not, old fellow. I come from the other branch, but I am Lacey’s distant cousin.’

      Jack said drily, ‘You know, Miss Chancellor…I mean, Lacey, most of us present at this ball are related to one another. In Regency times the gentry and nobility called themselves the cousinry because of all the intermarrying that went on among them.’

      ‘Welcome then, cousins,’ said Lacey giving all three a brilliant smile. ‘And will one of you kindly offer to assist me to some supper? I find dancing the Charleston most exhausting—and thirsty work into the bargain.’

      ‘So I noticed,’ remarked Jack, dry again. ‘And since that was my first sight of the new dance I shall be happy to feed the dancer.’

      He offered Lacey his arm and skilfully steered her away from Rupert and Darcey in the direction of the supper table, leaving them to stare after him.

      ‘Well cut out,’ said Darcey with a grin to the somewhat offended Rupert, who was not accustomed to be sidelined by the man he thought of as his country cousin. ‘Something tells me that Fighting Jack is not yet quite dead. That was very neatly done.’

      Lacey thought so, too.

      ‘I really came here with Darcey,’ she told him, but her smile took away any sting in her comment.

      ‘So I noticed,’ repeated Jack drolly. ‘I have to tell you that, while I am happy to escort you to the supper room, I am not able to partner you in the Charleston. I was exposed to it for the first time tonight.’

      He was trying to be as calm with her as he could, which was difficult for him. Her nearness, her scent and her ready smile were having a disastrous effect on his body, to say nothing of his mind. He had never been so unsettled by a young woman for years.

      ‘Were you shocked?’ she asked him. ‘I believe that many in English society are.’

      ‘Not so much shocked as surprised,’ he told her. Something made him add. ‘After taking part in the war there is little that could shock me. And that’s quite enough of that,’ he added, for he had astonished himself by referring to the war. It was a taboo subject with him as it was with many ex-soldiers.

      Lacey nodded. ‘I can understand that. You know, I’m really pleased to have met you. My half-brother has bought an estate near to yours in Sussex. He is transferring most of the treasures from the family home to it and one of my tasks while I am in England is to catalogue and rearrange them for him. Over the years there was a lot of unwanted furniture and bric-a-brac consigned to the attics at Liscombe Manor that he believes might be valuable. The Historical Manuscripts Commission has also written to him, asking if he has any interesting old letters, papers and accounts hidden away. If I tire of the London season I shall take up residence at Ashdown and enjoy myself there.’

      Jack looked at her with new respect over his plate of canapés. ‘Do I take it that this sort of thing is a hobby of yours?’ He was also delighted to learn that she might visit Sussex.

      ‘More than a hobby.’ She was suddenly impelled to tell him the truth which she not yet confided to anyone in England, not even her Chancellor relatives—apart from her half-brother who had been sworn to silence. ‘If you promise not to give me away, I can tell you that I am a trained historian with a PhD.’

      Jack looked at her with new respect. He also thought that she must be a little older than she seemed. The careless grace of the flapper which she had displayed on the dance floor certainly concealed from the world that she was a most learned lady.

      ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I was aware that women in the States were freer than ours and were invading all the professions hitherto reserved for men, but I never thought that I should meet one. And if I had, I should have expected her to be something of a gorgon, not a lady who looks like a model or a movie star and can dance like a professional.’

      Lacey, who had been about to sip her champagne, began to laugh. ‘That was a compliment…I think. Did you mean it as one?’

      Jack decided to be candid. ‘I don’t know what to think or even what I meant. Other than that you have bowled me over. There I was, under the impression that you were as light-minded as Darcey and Rupert, and then you tell me otherwise—that you’re a lady academic, no less. Do they really not know?’

      ‘Certainly not, and you are not to tell them. They might not wish to dance the Charleston with me again if you do!’

      ‘Then why don’t you dance the waltz or the foxtrot with me once we have finished supper and you are quite recovered from your previous exertions?’

      ‘Willingly,’ she said and laughed up at him. ‘To dance either of them with Fighting Jack would make my evening.’

      Darcey and Rupert watched them with amazement. Or rather they watched Jack with amazement. Lacey’s frank and cheerful way with Jack was no surprise, but Jack’s behaviour was quite another matter. For years they had accepted him as the dour man he had become since he had returned to England—and now he was behaving as though he were twenty again.

      Rupert wanted to go over and twit him, but Darcey put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I want to see what happens when the irresistible force meets the immovable object.’

      ‘The latter being Jack, I suppose. OK, then—it might be fun,’ Rupert said.

      They were even more amazed when a little later Jack and Lacey strolled off to the dance floor to take part in the slow foxtrot which the musicians had begun to play in a slightly faster tempo than usual.

      As she had expected, Lacey found that the slow fox was a perfect dance for Jack since he was able to perform it gracefully, if decorously, guiding her round the floor, and holding her at a little distance from him. There were no sudden swoops and bends from him when they turned and glided in perfect time with the music.

      He did say once, shortly after they had made the first circuit of the floor, ‘I was always intrigued by this dance’s name. Slow fox, indeed! The only foxes I have ever seen were fast ones.’

      ‘From horseback, I presume. Do you still hunt?’