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intolerable. At the stroke of eleven, the ordeal was over. Beau Nash, the Master of Ceremonies, declared the ball to be at an end. I went home with my face aching from so much smiling; my feet and legs sore from standing and dancing all night in thin-soled pumps.
    Mrs Wilkes scolded me for being too cold, too distant, too aloof. She was beginning to despair that I’d ever find a husband, when a likely prospect presented himself. Mr James Phillips Calthorpe, younger son of a baronet, well bred and well connected. He had hardly a penny in his own right, and altogether no prospects, but he had the tastes that went with his station, liked the gaming tables quite as much as my brother, played with similar skill and enjoyed the same degree of success. I was under no illusion. His ardour was fuelled entirely by his own greed and the size of my fortune.
    Mrs Wilkes was beside herself. Calthorpe was considered handsome by some, although I thought his blue eyes altogether too pale, his colouring too vivid, and there was a weakness about his mouth and chin that I did not find attractive. I was envied for his attentions, but I cared for him not at all, finding him shallow and vain with a vastly inflated opinion of himself. I did my best to ignore him and to act cold towards him, but he took my indifference as haughtiness and this served to stoke rather than dampen his interest, which rendered his attentions even more tiresome.
    I was stealing myself for another evening of more of them when a young naval officer presented himself.
    ‘May I request the pleasure?’ He bowed before me.
    I was waiting for Calthorpe, saving my energies for him. I did not want to dance before I had to, and began to refuse him, but when he straightened up and grinned at me, I saw that it was William.
    Suddenly, everything was different. I tore up my card for the evening and determined to dance with him all night. The room now glowed with a golden light thrown out by the glittering chandeliers. The rows of dancers facing each other looked handsome, beautiful. The normal lines of callow youths and ageing rakes, overpainted women, elderly spinsters and awkward plain-faced girls seemed to have stayed at home. Everyone moved with grace and agility. No one turned the wrong way, barging into me, or treading on my toes. The windows were open. The scent of lilac came in on the air.
    Calthorpe arrived too late. He was with his friend Bruton and, when it was clear that I would not leave my new partner for him, Bruton said something that did not improve Calthorpe’s temper. He turned on his heel and marched out, fury and humiliation painting his cheeks, but what did I care? I was being partnered by quite the handsomest man in Bath.
    My head filled with so many questions to ask William. What was he doing here? How long had he been in Bath? How long was he going to stay? But there was little chance to talk. I had to content myself with looking. I had not seen him for two years and he had changed. He was a man now. His uniform made him look very dashing, buttons and buckles shining, white stockings and white gloves immaculate. Maturity had carved away the boyish roundness from his cheeks and chin, but his dark eyes were as expressive as ever and his mouth still quirked up at the corners showing that he had not lost his humour or sweetness of nature. I’m sure that I had changed as much as he, but I knew in an instant that all was the same between us. I did not need words. His eyes and the touch of his hand told me enough.
    Looks and smiles can convey a great deal in the intricate motions of the dance. My heart beat faster as each step brought him closer and closer, then stopped altogether when his face, his lips, were only inches away. I ached with the waiting as the dance took him away from me, and seethed with jealousy to see him join hands with another. Then he was coming back to me and the delicious rising excitement began all over again. I knew then what dancing was