He rose and clapped his hands. ‘Ladies.’
All heads turned in his direction.
‘There are quite a number of unaccompanied gentlemen here this evening if you have a mind to dance.’
There were smiles of enthusiasm. Dancing with the guests would mean generous tips for the girls themselves. ‘Please remember, dancing only. No one is to go upstairs, that area is strictly for our guests.’
If his lady croupiers started going upstairs with gentlemen guests to earn money, then his perfectly respectable card parties would become something else. A bawdy house. Something that would leave him open to criminal prosecution.
He glanced down at Mrs Lamb. ‘You need not dance if you do not wish to.’
‘Oh, come on, Pammy,’ Sukey said. ‘Half the men in that room was eying you up...they will be tripping over themselves to get a dance.’
Pammylooked a shade doubtful, then smiled. ‘Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.’
Much as he imagined his father had said when her father had seduced him into gambling away his fortune.
‘That’s the way,’ Sukey said. And off the ladies went.
Damian followed them with every intention of keeping an eye on Mrs Lamb. He did not want her scared off by some lustful lout or, worse yet, inadvertently revealing her true identity. At least not yet.
He wanted everything to go along at his pace.
Chapter Five
When Pamela returned to the ballroom, she discovered that indeed several gentlemen were desirous of leading her on to the dance floor. Monsieur Phillippe seemed to have taken charge of keeping them in line, since he introduced her to her first partner, whom he named as Valencourt. A very young fair-haired and rather tongue-tied gentleman, whose steps had obviously been honed by a dancing master who had failed to impart any style or grace.
She recalled that he had spent a considerable amount of money at her table earlier in the evening, but had thankfully stopped when his chips ran out.
‘Mr Valencourt. How kind of you to ask me to dance,’ she said with a smile intended to put him at ease.
He blushed. ‘Mrs Lamb. The honour is mine. Most grateful. I m-mean...’ He stuttered into silence.
‘The weather is very mild for this time of year,’ he said, after a few minutes. He sounded as if he was following some sort of script called ‘The Rules for Conversation while Dancing’.
She kept her tone light and friendly. ‘Perhaps the winter will be mild also?’
He grinned and seemed to relax a little. ‘You are not like the other girls,’ he said, leaning close and dropping his voice. ‘They always make me feel as if I have two left feet.’
‘Surely not? You are an excellent dancer.’
His blush deepened. ‘Thank you. It... Umm... I mean...one dances better when one has...’ he swallowed ‘...a partner who...’
He swallowed again.
Oh, dear. Poor young man. She felt sorry for him. ‘A partner with whom one feels comfortable.’
‘A partner who dances beautifully,’ he said in a rush.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Valencourt. You are very kind.’ She twirled under his arm and they promenaded down the length of the ballroom side by side.
‘Not kind,’ he said, sounding rather strangled.
Glancing up at his face, she saw he was once again struggling for words.
Fortunately, the music was drawing to a close and Monsieur Phillippe was trying to catch their attention.
Valencourt dutifully walked her back to him. ‘Can I ask you to dance again?’