A Dangerous Fortune(92)
“You know the answer to that without my telling you.”
“But her charm is irresistible.”
“Doubtless.”
“I shall ask her to dance later on. Do you think she will accept?”
Augusta could not resist an acid retort. “I am sure of it. She is not fastidious.” She turned away. No doubt it was too much to hope for that Nora would cause some kind of incident with the count—
She was suddenly inspired.
The count was the critical factor. If she put him together with Nora the combination could be explosive.
Her mind was racing. Tonight was a perfect opportunity. She had to do it now.
Feeling a little breathless with excitement, Augusta looked around, spotted Micky, and went over to him. “There’s something I want you to do for me, now, quickly,” she said.
Micky gave her a knowing look. “Anything,” he murmured.
She ignored the innuendo. “Do you know Count de Tokoly?”
“Indeed. All we diplomats know one another.”
“Tell him that Nora is no better than she ought to be.”
Micky’s mouth curled in a half-smile. “Just that?”
“You may elaborate if you wish.”
“Should I hint that I know this from, let us say, personal experience?”
This conversation was transgressing the boundaries of propriety, but Micky’s idea was a good one and she nodded. “Even better.”
“You know what he will do?” Micky said.
“I trust he will make an indecent suggestion to her.”
“If that’s what you want….”
“Yes.”
Micky nodded. “I am your slave, in this as in all things.”
Augusta waved the compliment aside impatiently: she was too tense to listen to facetious gallantry. She looked for Nora and saw her staring around in wonderment at the lavish decor and the extravagant costumes: the girl had never seen anything like this in her life. She was quite off guard. Without further reflection Augusta made her way through the crowd to Nora’s side.
She spoke into her ear. “A word of advice.”
“Much obliged for it, I’m sure,” Nora said.
Hugh had presumably given Nora a malevolent account of Augusta’s character, but to the girl’s credit she showed no sign of hostility. She appeared not to have made up her mind about Augusta, and was neither warm nor cold to her.
Augusta said: “I noticed you talking to Count de Tokoly.”
“A dirty old man,” Nora said immediately.
Augusta winced at her vulgarity but pressed on. “Be careful of him, if you value your reputation.”
“Be careful?” Nora said. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Be polite, of course—but whatever happens, don’t let him take any liberties. The least encouragement is enough for him and if he is not set straight immediately he can be very embarrassing.”
Nora nodded understanding. “Don’t worry, I know how to deal with his type.”
Hugh was standing nearby talking to the duke of Kingsbridge. Now he noticed Augusta, looked suspicious, and came to his wife’s side. However, Augusta had already said all she needed to say, and she turned away to watch the procession. She had done her work: the seeds were planted. Now she had to wait anxiously and hope for the best.
Passing in front of the prince were some of the Marlborough Set, including the duke and duchess of Kingsbridge and Solly and Maisie Greenbourne. They were dressed as eastern potentates, shahs and pashas and sultanas, and instead of bowing and curtsying they knelt and salaamed, which drew a laugh from the portly prince and a round of applause from the crowd. Augusta loathed Maisie Greenbourne, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was rapidly turning over possibilities. There were a hundred ways her plot could go wrong: de Tokoly could be captivated by a different pretty face, Nora might deal with him graciously, Hugh might stay too close for de Tokoly to do anything offensive. But with a little luck the drama she had plotted would be played out—and then there would be ructions.
The procession was coming to an end when, to Augusta’s dismay, she saw the face of David Middleton pushing through the crowd toward her.
She had last seen him six years ago, when he had questioned her about his brother Peter’s death at Windfield School, and she had told him that the two witnesses, Hugh Pilaster and Antonio Silva, had gone abroad. But now Hugh was back and here was Middleton. How had a mere lawyer got invited to such a grand occasion? She recalled vaguely that he was a distant relation of the duke of Tenbigh. She could hardly have foreseen this. It was a potential disaster. I can’t think of everything! she said to herself frenziedly.
To her horror Middleton walked straight up to Hugh.
Augusta edged closer through the crush. She heard Middleton say: “Hello, Pilaster, I heard you were back in England. Do you remember me? I’m Peter Middleton’s brother.”
Augusta turned her back so that he would not notice her and strained to hear over the hum of conversation around her.
“I do remember—you were at the inquest,” Hugh said. “Allow me to present my wife.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Pilaster,” Middleton said perfunctorily, and returned his attention to Hugh. “I was never happy with that inquest, you know.”
Augusta went cold. Middleton had to be obsessed to bluntly bring up such an inappropriate subject in the middle of a costume ball. This was insupportable. Would poor Teddy never be free of that old suspicion?