THE girl standing in a corner of the crowded room hardly merited a second glance; she was small, with light brown hair strained back into an unfashionable bun, a face whose snub nose and wide mouth did nothing to redeem its insignificance, and she was wearing an elaborate shrimp-pink dress. But after his first glance the man standing across the room from her looked again. Presently he strolled over to stand beside her. His âHelloâ was pleasant and she turned her head to look at him.
She answered him politely, studying him from large brown eyes fringed by curling lashes. Looking at her eyes, he reflected that one soon forgot the nose and mouth and dragged-back hair. He smiled down at her. âDo you know anyone here? I came with friendsâIâm staying with them and was asked to come along with them. A birthday party, isnât it?â
âYes.â She looked past him to the crowded room, the groups of laughing, gossiping people waving to each other with drinks in their hands, the few couples dancing in the centre. âWould you like me to introduce you to someone?â
He said in his friendly way, âYou know everyone here? Is it your birthday?â
âYes.â She gave him a quick surprised look and bent her head to examine the beaded bodice of her dress.
âThen shouldnât you be the belle of the ball?â
âOh, itâs not my party. Itâs my stepsisterâsâthat pretty girl over by the buffet. Would you like to meet Clare?â
âThe competition appears too keen at the moment,â he said easily. âShouldnât you be sharing the party, since itâs your birthday too?â
âWell, no.â She had a pretty voice and she spoke matter-of-factly. âIâm sure youâd like to meet some of the guests. I donât know your nameâ¦â
âForgive me. Hay-SmytheâOliver.â
âBertha Soames.â She put out a small hand and he shook it gently.
âI really donât want to meet anyone. I think that perhaps Iâm a little on the old side for them.â
She scrutinised him gravelyâa very tall, strongly built man, with fair hair thickly sprinkled with grey. His eyes were grey too, and he had the kind of good looks which matched his assured air.
âI donât think youâre in the least elderly,â she told him.
He thanked her gravely and added, âDo you not dance?â
âOh, I love to dance.â She smiled widely at him, but as quickly the smile faded. âIâthat is, my stepmother asked me to see that everyone was enjoying themselves. Thatâs why Iâm standing hereâif I see anyone on their own I make sure that theyâve got a drink and meet someone. I really think that you shouldâ¦â
âDefinitely not, Miss Soames.â He glanced down at her and thought how out of place she looked in the noisy room. And why, if it was her birthday, was she not wearing a pretty dress and not that ill-fitting, over-elaborate garment? âAre you hungry?â
âMe? Hungry?â She nodded her head. âYes, I missed lunch.â Her eyes strayed to the buffet, where a number of people were helping themselves lavishly to the dainties upon it. âWhy donât youâ¦?â
Dr Hay-Smythe, hard-working in his profession and already respected by older colleagues, a man who would never pass a stray kitten or a lost dog and who went out of his way to make life easy for anyone in trouble, said now, âIâm hungry too. Supposing we were to slip away and have a meal somewhere? I donât imagine we should be missed, and we could be back long before this finishes.â
She stared at him. âYou mean go somewhere outside? But there isnât a café anywhere near hereâbesidesâ¦â
âEven Belgravia must have its pubs. Anyway, Iâve my car outsideâwe can look around.â