Bath Scandal by Joan Smith

arm. He was aware of jealous glances from the men and felt a little spurt of pride in his companion’s beauty.
    Southam anticipated a dance with Mrs. Searle and perhaps one with his hostess for civility’s sake. He realized, after the party was ensconced at tables in the Upper Rooms, that the older folks in Bath did not take a backseat to the youngsters. Mrs. Searle was whisked away from the table as soon as they arrived.
    Mrs. Carrington inclined her head toward him and said, “That is Mr. Reynolds, one of Mrs. Searle’s court. He has retired from London—something to do with the law—and bought a handsome estate north of Bath. Extremely eligible.”
    He looked surprised to learn that Mrs. Searle had her circle of admirers. “At her age!” he exclaimed, not well pleased.
    “Why, she is only thirty, and so very pretty. Naturally she will not molder into the grave without making another match. Though I have often thought Sir Harold Whitehead has the inner track. A baronet, but not so deep in the pockets as Reynolds. There is no saying with Bea. She never had any hankering for a handle to her name. She has turned down dozens of offers. She is quite a dasher, I promise you.”
    As he watched from the sidelines, Mrs. Searle negotiated the steps of the country dance with every evidence of youthful vigor. Neither her small, lithe waist nor her lively performance revealed the least sign of advancing senility. Had he not been familiar with her background, he would have taken her for Gillie’s friend, not her chaperon. This had been an excellent notion of Deborah’s, to send Gillie here. What the girl required was a good-natured lady who enjoyed youthful outings herself. Gillie’s social life had been sorely restricted in Alderton.
    He prepared himself to replace Mr. Reynolds at the end of the set, but before Mrs. Searle reached the table, she had been accosted by another gentleman. Fellow looked like a demmed caper merchant, with his oiled hair and greasy smile.
    Mrs. Carrington leaned forward and said, “That is Sir Harold Whitehead that I told you about. He is put out that Bea stood up first with Mr. Reynolds this evening. And only see how Miss Tobin is scowling! She wouldn’t say no if Sir Harold asked her to dance—or to marry him, either.”
    The place was a regular hotbed of romance. It struck Southam as unseemly for his cousin’s widow to be so popular and gay. Why, she was flirting with Whitehead! Upon my word, he thought, I am not at all sure this lady is any better than she should be.
    His anger subsided when she returned to the table at the end of the set and said, “Why are you not dancing, Lord Southam? Can you not see all the ladies languishing for want of a partner? We do not often have the honor of an earl at our little assemblies. I hope you are not too high and mighty to stand up with me?”
    “I have already warned you I am not much of a hand at jigging, but if you are willing to take the chance, I will be more than happy to oblige you.”
    She gave him her hand with a teasing smile and replied, “I never hesitate to take a chance, Lord Southam. You do not look that dangerous to me.”
    “Deborah tells me I have two left feet.”
    “Only two? Tannie has four, and I have waltzed with him when one of the girls for the waltzing class failed to attend.”
    “I can only offer you two, but I assure you they are both left feet.”
    “That attitude is enough to insure failure. I expect you are an excellent dancer.” She smiled and led him to the dance floor, where he acquitted himself without disgrace. Strangely he seemed to dance better than usual. Perhaps it was because Mrs. Searle was such a good dancer herself.
    “I was a little surprised to see the youngsters waltzing this afternoon,” he mentioned when the steps of the cotillion permitted them to converse.
    She gave him an arch look. “Your surprise was more than evident, Lord Southam. You looked as if you had stumbled into a house of ill