Babe by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

concluded that the address had been withheld on purpose, and considered giving it to him. No, Lady Graham would dislike this foreigner, and one’s hostess must be taken into consideration. “I am living in the wilds. You would need an Indian guide to find me,” she laughed, trying to dismiss it. He pestered her a few more times, but found out no more than that she was somewhere north of the city. Ellingwood, forgotten, bowed himself away.
    When the next set began, she stood up with Gentz, with some little premonition that Clivedon would not like it. She realized her feeling had been correct when she saw him glaring at her from the side of the room and taking a close look at the colonel. The use of an army rank was a holdover from the Napoleonic wars. Gentz was now a civilian, outfitted in a black coat like everyone else on this night. He was an older gentleman, in his mid-thirties like Clivedon, but seemed older. It was perhaps his Continental manners that lent him a slightly raffish air. They were elegant, almost excessively so when he dealt with ladies, and his dealings were mostly with ladies. His smile was just a shade too wide, his ease too pronounced, as though to proclaim he was not inferior to anyone. But he was tall and handsome, an amusing flirt. She enjoyed her dance with him but did not regret its termination either.
    “When shall I see you again, Babe?” he asked. “I am desolate away from you. You know I only turned down the Burrells’ invitation to be with you. When may I see you?”
    “Do you go to Seftons’ rout tomorrow night?” she asked.
    “I’ll try if I can wangle an entrée from someone. Maybe the fellow who got me a ticket for tonight’s do can arrange it. You can’t imagine how busy I have been, trying to find you, and worse, get to you.”
    That this should have been a trial told her clearly enough he was not entirely welcome in polite Society, and she regretted her former closeness with him. He grabbed her hand and kissed it violently, then darted away before any definite meeting was arranged.
    Looking around to see what might have sent him off in such haste, she saw Clivedon advancing towards her, walking quickly. “Who let that mugger in? It’s to get you away from the likes of him I sent you to Cousin Graham.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with Theodor,” she defended.
    “That commoner in gentleman’s clothing!”
    “He is an officer, and, one assumes, a gentleman.”
    “He’s a fortune hunter.”
    “He’s not likely to weasel any money out of me at a ball,” she laughed. “Unless he has mastered the art of extracting blood from a stone, he isn’t likely to get any from me anywhere else either.”
    “I hope you didn’t ask him to call on you.”
    “I value my head more highly! La Graham does not care for foreigners—and a waltzing Austrian at that! Tch-tch, she’d send us both to church to be sprinkled with ashes. I suppose you are wondering who you can find to partner me for the next dance. Don’t take your duty so hard, Clivedon. I see Welby there alone in the corner, playing with his watch. I’ll go to him.”
    “It is no doubt that quarter-strain of French that urges you to be chasing after men, when you should better wait for them to come to you.”
    “ Sans doute it is my blood’s age, not nationality, that makes me so eager. I am no longer a deb who must sit batting her fan in a corner till she is asked to dance. We ape-leaders set out with our ropes and trap what we want. Ten to one someone will stop me before I get to Welby,” she added, with a toss of her head to smile at a passing friend. Sir Lyle Covington immediately drew up beside her.
    “Busy next dance, Babe?” he asked.
    “ Lady Barbara is engaged to me for the next dance,” Clivedon answered, with a repressive emphasis on her title and name.
    “Save me the next one, Babe,” Covington said, unrepressed, and walked on.
    “Pity we hadn’t placed a wager on my finding a partner. I could