Lady Hathaway's House Party by Joan Smith Page B

you, please?” As Mrs. Ponsonby was situated close enough to hear this polite command, delivered in a loud voice, Oliver had little option but to do so, thus allowing Henderson to greet Lady Avondale without interference.
    “Where have you been all this time?” was the first question Belle put to him.
    “I took a little dash over to see Dr. Hutchison,” he told her, trying to make it sound natural. “You know he is a good friend of mine. It is half the reason I came, to have a chance to see him.”
    Dr. Hutchison had been the minister at Amesbury until a year ago, and a close friend of Arnold’s. Certainly Arnold had mentioned visiting him while at Ashbourne, but Belle doubted it was an eagerness to see his old friend that had got him out of the house within an hour of his arrival, and with only an hour till dinnertime. It must have been no more than hello and goodbye. She had the sinking feeling amounting to a certainty that he was only trying to get away from herself, because of Oliver.
    “He is my friend too, Oliver,” she chided. “I had meant to go with you when you called on him.”
    “I’m going back. We hardly talked a minute. I plan to return tomorrow, and he especially asked that I bring you, when he learned that you are visiting Lady Hathaway too.”
    “Fine. We’ll go to see him tomorrow then. In the morning or afternoon?”
    “We’ll go in the morning, if that’s all right with you. Unless you have made other plans. I don’t mind making your excuses to Dr. Hutchison if you can’t get away.” He was eager in the extreme to make her excuses, or do anything that would put a safe distance between the two of them.
    “Yes, that will be all right. I haven’t made any plans,” she said, and waited for Arnold to offer her his arm, as he was always doing, even to go from one room to the next, or from a chair to a table in the same room for that matter. It was the only physical intimacy between them, and he put it to good use.
    She would have welcomed the support on this occasion, for her knees felt amazingly watery, but Arnold spaced himself a careful foot away from her side and said, “Well, shall we go in?” He also glanced about the hall for a nice neutral third party to go with them, but found none.
    They went into the green saloon, and though a few heads turned to see them, there was no hubbub, as when she had entered with Avondale. She breathed a little sigh of relief, thinking it wasn’t going to be so bad after all, getting back into the swing of things. She introduced Arnold to a few people he had not met, due to his absence when everyone was getting acquainted earlier.
    She was aware of Oliver over toward the far corner of the room alone. She disdained to look at him directly to see what held his interest, but no direct look was required to see when he began to walk forward. Before two seconds it became clear he was approaching herself. Arnold’s shrinking off would have told her if the black shoulders fast advancing had not. She could sympathize with Arnold, but she could not do without his support, and turned to speak a question to him, to ensure his remaining with her.
    “You don’t have a glass of wine, Belle,” was all her husband said when he reached her, but into it she read a hundred insults. Nobody had bothered to get her one. She didn’t know enough to have a glass of wine when the party has met for a drink before dinner. In short, “You lack polish, my dear.” The old familiar charge.
    “I just got here,” she pointed out defensively.
    “Kay has gone whole hog and is serving us champagne. Let me get you a glass.” Looking around, he crooked a finger, and a footman came with his tray. Footmen, waiters and servants came at his glance. It piqued her. Oliver removed a glass of wine and handed it to her.
    “Thank you,” she said, but didn’t immediately take a sip, as she had no idea of letting him think she had been waiting for it.
    “How is everything at Easthill?