The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland Page A

flushed again at the sound of his name so openly on her lips. “Gregor – did you know that – I too am going to the ball?”
    â€œAt the Lady Bescombe’s house?”
    â€œYes.  Will you – will you dance with me there?”
    â€œEvery dance that is not promised to another, I will dance!”
    Eugenia blenched. “Are there many you have promised – to others?”
    A strange look crossed Gregor’s features.  “You are questioning me?” he growled.
    â€œNo.” Eugenia was nonplussed. “No. Why do you use that tone?”
    Gregor regarded her darkly from under a lank of hair. Then suddenly he tossed his head and grinned.
    â€œWhat a delicate creature! How the wolves would gobble you up?”
    â€œW-wolves?”
    â€œIn Russia, there are wolves.” Gregor came close. Eugenia trembled as she felt his breath on her cheek. “They eat young girls. Like this.”
    His mouth touched her face. Her lip, her nose, her chin. Then he drew away laughing. “We will dance.  Never fear.” he cried, and ran on up to Great-Aunt Cloris.
    Eugenia, stunned, gazed after him.
    She could not fathom his character, but what did that matter? He was surely the most exciting man she was ever going to meet!
    A little later she was summoned to her mother’s room.
    Eugenia could not help noticing the jewellery box on the bedside cabinet. It was ostentatiously open, revealing all the jewellery that Mrs. Dovedale had once threatened to sell.
    Before Eugenia could ask, her mother ventured the information that the Marquis had called earlier to offer them the use of one of his carriages for the ball.
    Eugenia thought she would enjoy driving to Lady Bescombe’s in a beautiful carriage, even if it did belong to the Marquis. She refrained from expressing her enthusiasm, however.  She was painfully aware of the inference her mother already drew from the fact that Eugenia had agreed to go to the ball. She told herself it was not her fault if her mother imagined romance where romance there was none.
    She wondered aloud about the packet, however.  Mrs. Dovedale had not realised that Eugenia had witnessed the exchange and looked somewhat disconcerted. She plucked at a loose thread on her cuff for a moment before replying. 
    â€œThe Marquis had brought me some herbal remedy for recurring headaches,” she said.
    Before Eugenia could pursue the subject her mother hurried on. The Marquis had, it appeared, also come to recommend a particular dressmaker in the Burlington Arcade, a Madame Lefain. Many ladies of his acquaintance had their gowns made by her. 
    As intended, this item of information distracted Eugenia. She asked eagerly when she and her mother might visit the dressmaker and was told that they would leave that very minute.
    Eugenia hurried away to don her hat and coat.
    Madame Lefain stocked a large range of materials in premises behind the Arcade. There was silk and silk mousseline and taffeta and crepe and muslin and satin and satin brocade, in a hundred colours. Eugenia’s eyes opened in wonder at the choice. How could she possibly decide? She might have been there all afternoon had her gaze not alighted on a bolt of rose pink satin. This was the colour she had imagined when she had envisaged herself dancing with Gregor.
    Madame Lefain thought the rose pink an excellent choice. She showed Eugenia a pattern that she thought would be most becoming and was absolutely ‘ of ze moment ’.
    Mrs. Dovedale chose a deep purple indigo silk.
    Shoes were produced that Madame Lefain assured them she could have been dyed to match the gowns.
    Mrs. Dovedale declared herself most satisfied with the purchases. Eugenia tried to appear non-committal but inside she was excited beyond measure. Not since she was a child at ‘ Paragon ’ had she been able to spend time and money on her appearance.
    If she dazzled Gregor it would be more than worth