Lady Polly Part 23

"You have nothing to reproach yourself for."

"No," Polly said wretchedly, 'but Lord Henry already has a low enough opinion of me, Lucille! He will be thinking me the veri est light skirt! I did not tell you before, but do you remember the morning you went on the picnic, and how poorly I was feeling? " At Lucille's nod she rushed on.

"I.

became intoxicated with the fruit punch at Lady Phillips's Ball the night before, and then I tried to tell Lord Henry that I wished us to be friends, but I got it all wrong and he ended up kissing me on the terrace and it was dreadful--' Lucille was looking thunderstruck.

"Wait, wait! What on earth were you doing drinking the punch?"

"I thought it was fruit cup," Polly said, suddenly and unaccountably wanting to giggle.

"It was a very hot night, you see, and the drink was so refres.h.i.+ng...

Anyway, such a pea goose as I was, I did not realise that I was intoxicated! So when I had the chance to speak to Lord Henry I felt marvellously brave, but he did not interpret my words in quite the way I wished and before I knew it he was kissing me--' Suddenly she felt the laughter welling up again, and once she had started she could not stop. Lucille put her cup down and sat in amused bewilderment.

"Polly, Polly! Whatever happened?"

"I told you," Polly said, between giggles, 'he kissed me! " "And you said it was dreadful." Lucille finished.

"Well, no..." Polly's giggles started to subside at last. She wiped her eyes.

"The kiss itself was not dreadful, it was quite delightful..."

Again, her voice faded away as she remembered the stirring of her senses, so intriguing and yet so frightening.

"I wanted him to go on kissing me for ever," she finished naively.

"Well, what is so wrong with that?"

Polly's eyes were enormous.

"But, Lucille, a lady does not kiss a gentleman before they are married!"

She frowned.

"And then, when he rescued me at Hamp stead Wells..." again she found herself repressing a giggle at Lucille's rapt expression 'why, I positively threw myself at his head! He must think me very fast! " "I doubt it," Lucille said drily.

"It all sounds highly comical to me and hardly the stuff of which loose women are made!"

Polly, to her own surprise, started to laugh again,

"Yes, I do see what you mean! Although I have to say that there were certain similarities between my conduct and that of Lady Bolt at Richmond!"

"No, truly? I have underestimated you, Polly!"

"That is what Lord Henry said!" Polly admitted with a giggle, provoking a look of speculative amazement from her sister-in-law.

"Now, Richmond..." Lucille tried to look severe.

"I a.s.sume that you have not discussed it with Lord Henry?"

Polly sobered slightly.

"No, and I cannot see that we shall ever do so. I am still resigned to the fact that there is no future for me with Lord Henry, for he is clearly unable to abandon his rakish habits." A shade of colour crept into her face.

"Indeed, it is one of the reasons why I feel particularly badly about my behaviour." She struggled a little for the words.

"It is not as if... that is... were we betrothed..."

But Lucille was smiling again.

"It does not do to worry too much about such things, Polly! I have the strangest feeling that all will turn out for the best. Lord Henry, I am persuaded, thinks no less of you for your conduct." Her eyes twinkled.

"Your folly in becoming foxed, however, is a different matter!"

Polly found herself laughing again in spite of herself.

"Yes, it was unforgivable in me and really very unpleasant to boot! I am sure Lord Henry thinks me a complete fool, which is dreadful! And now this business at the fis.h.i.+ng-house... Oh, Lord, I really have made a complete cake of myself!"

And she collapsed into fresh giggles.

Lucille was also laughing.

"And you think this a calamity? It's the funniest thing I have heard this age!"

"Yes!" Polly raised eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears of laughter.

"I see now that it is! Oh, thank you, Lucille! I feel so much better!"

"Our encounters seem to be becoming ever more dramatic. Lady Polly,"

Lord Henry March night murmured, taking the seat next to hers in Mrs Fitzgerald's drawing-room a week later.

"Is it possible for us to converse in a seemly fas.h.i.+on, do you think, or will something untoward occur simply through our proximity?" There was a blend of mockery and amus.e.m.e.nt in the low tones which Polly found infinitely disturbing, but she was not going to allow him to put her out of countenance.

He had not called to see her during her convalescence and that alone was enough to make her treat him coolly. Although she would never have admitted it, Polly had waited in vain through the hot summer days, hoping that each peal of the doorbell might be Lord Henry, or that each floral tribute might be his.

She should have known better--it was all of a piece with his behaviour in London--but it made it no easier to bear.

She gave him a cool smile.

"Provided that you are able to behave yourself we may do tolerably well, sir," she said lightly.

"And now that I am so much better, I shall at least be able to make my escape! But--' her smile gained a shade of warmth '--I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you for the service rendered to us in London that night--' Lord Henry touched her hand so briefly, so quickly that no one noticed; Polly thought she might have imagined it were it not for the sensation of warmth his touch aroused. She looked away, confused.

"Do not speak of it. I am just glad that no real harm came of the occasion."

Polly reflected that Lord Henry's attractions lay not only in his undeniable physical attributes but also in his charm of manner. She had hardened her heart against him and yet she could feel herself weakening already. He spoke as though she were the only person of importance in the room and the intent look in those cool grey eyes was for her alone. And yet it had to be an illusion, for Polly had seen him charming a dozen other women with that mixture of concentrated attention and lazy grace.

In the days of Henry's absence, Polly had taught herself to be sensible.