‘Like Kian?’ I ask, then regret my usual habit of speaking without thinking. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it.’
‘That’s okay,’ Chloe says, surprisingly. ‘Actually, I agree with you – he’s a complete and utter loser. All men are. It’s just a matter of whether you marry a greater or lesser one.’
I smile. Chloe has always told me this, even when I was little. You would have thought it would teach me to lower my expectations somewhat, but instead I still live in hope of finding better.
The long driveway to Chatsworth House is aglow with bright lights and smart cars queuing to set down their elegant occupants.
I feel unusually nervous as we alight from the taxi, relieved to have Mel and Chloe with me. Arriving alone would have been terrifying in this crowd.
In the great entrance hall, we give our invitations to a smart young doorman who has opened the doors especially for us. I could get used to this treatment.
As I walk into the hall, I am blown away by the grandeur and beauty of the huge staircase, framed either side with twin balconies fashioned in gold. I would have loved to stand and stare, losing myself in the amazing painting on the ceiling which looks as fresh and immediate as though it had been painted yesterday. I’m forced to keep walking forward, however, propelled by crowds of people funnelling in behind us.
There’s a formal welcoming party comprising Miss Palmer-Wright, Emma Woodtree, Nick Palmer-Wright, Darcy Drummond, and the diamond-laden lady from the awards evening, who I assume is his mother. This is confirmed by Nick Palmer-Wright’s introduction – Mrs Veronica Drummond. They’re lined along the side of the room to meet and greet, before each guest mounts the staircase up to the ballroom. This crowd has obviously not patronised the local costume hire or charity shop – their outfits positively scream wealth.
I try not to look at Darcy as I can’t trust myself not to hit him with a barrage of accusations, but hold my head up, greeting Miss Palmer-Wright with a confident smile which doesn’t quite reach my annoyingly shaky legs.
She simpers in her usual fake manner, just uttering, ‘Miss Johnson. Oh, and you’ve brought all your friends with you,’ sarcastically.
Nick, however, is warm and genuine in his greeting, and I don’t know whether it’s my imagination, but he speaks to Chloe with an added friendliness. As I reach Darcy Drummond, I have a job to control my nerves. He bows his head but as he raises it again, I feel a jolt as his eyes meet mine. They are such a deep brown, strong and warm, yet challenging. Why does he have to be so good looking?
I dismiss a distracting image of touching his handsomely chiselled face as he shakes my hand politely but moves swiftly on to greet a horsey-looking girl dressed from head-to-toe in shimmering diamanté. Not very Regency, but I have to admit she looks amazing. Darcy’s mother vaguely acknowledges us, but is already focused on the horsey lady. She is obviously wealthy, I think cynically.
I don’t really care though, I’m too busy scanning the room for Daniel.
‘Lovely to see you, Sophie.’ Emma comes forward and gives us all a hug and a kiss. ‘So glad you could come.’
‘This is beautiful, Emma, every bit as gorgeous as I imagined,’ I say breathlessly.
Emma looks pleased. ‘It takes months of planning, but is always spectacular.’
We move on as more guests are arriving. I link arms with Chloe and Mel and we ascend the dauntingly huge staircase together. It’s amazing, I feel as though we have been transported back in time as I sashay up the great wide steps.
At the top, we enter the ballroom through a huge archway. It’s simply crammed with people, but the scene in front of us is breathtaking – candles burning, an orchestra in the corner playing Regency music with couples already moving elegantly on the floor. It’s as though someone has waved a magic wand and we’ve slipped back a couple of centuries. I stand in the doorway for a moment, transfixed, drinking it all in.
‘Sophie!’ a familiar soft voice calls to me.
‘Maria, so good to see you.’ I give her a hug. She looks really beautiful in her long gown, her hair swept up into an elegant chignon. ‘Isn’t this gorgeous? So, what have I missed so far?’ I ask eagerly.
‘Nothing really. I’ve already danced once, though it was a bit more vigorous than I expected.’ She smiles in the direction of an enthusiastic Rob Bright, who’s cavorting with some poor suffering young girl in the line-up.
‘Lucky you!’ I laugh. ‘And is Charles here?’ I immediately wish I hadn’t spoken as Maria’s lovely face falls.
‘Yes, he’s here,’ she replies, and then in barely a whisper, ‘he’s dancing over there.’
I follow her gaze and notice Charles looking pretty happy arm in arm with Louisa Mills, the lively young redhead from the restaurant. He obviously hasn’t suddenly realised the error of his ways yet then. We desperately need Jane Austen to help sort this situation. Regency romance, it seems, is still way out of reach for us all, especially when I discover that Daniel is nowhere to be found. Every time someone arrives, I find myself watching the doorway, my heart in my mouth, only to be disappointed once more.
‘Miss Johnson!’ It’s Rob Bright. Oh no, that’s all I need. ‘Would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?’
‘Erm, well… I don’t…’ Darn it, I meant to have an excuse ready but with one thing and another, it had slipped my mind. I find myself being led to the dance floor by an exuberant Rob, and I can tell Chloe and Mel are both struggling not to laugh, the rotten things.
The dance, not unlike our last one, is torture. Rob’s ability doesn’t seem to have improved at all, in spite of his boasting that he’d taken a couple of private lessons. Whether he has a terrible teacher or two left feet, I don’t know. I’m inclined to think the latter most likely.
After what seems like an eternity, the dance ends and I am swept off by my rescue team, i.e. Maria and Chloe, who probably figure I need a break. Mel earns my gratitude by kindly disappearing to the dance floor with Rob to get him off my back for a while as he seems intent on shadowing me all evening for some reason. Goodness only knows I’ve given him little enough encouragement, but he doesn’t seem to care, he has such a high opinion of himself.
Looking at the dance floor, I notice with misgiving that Josh is dancing with the beautiful and expensive-looking creature he was dining with at the First Dates evening. Izzy is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly my phone bings from within my bag. ‘Why on earth have you got your phone with you?’ Chloe asks sarcastically. ‘Not exactly Regency, is it? Soph?’
I’ve gone quiet as I am reading a text from Daniel. Hi Sophie, I’m really sorry but I’m not going to make it tonight – have had to work late. Hope you have a good time anyway, will be sorry not to be there with you. Was hoping to have the first dance but maybe next time…
‘You okay, Soph?’ Chloe asks.
‘Yes fine. It’s Daniel, he can’t come tonight. Had to work late,’ I reply shortly, trying not to look as disappointed and crushed as I’m feeling.
‘I’ve heard that one before. I’m sorry.’ Chloe can obviously see how upset I am. Another text bings its arrival.