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wishing her brother could hear how gamely she was flirting with this lord, “your eyes are like… are like…” Her voice faltered as she met his flat silver stare. “Like sixpences,” she finished lamely.
     
    “What about my left eyebrow?” he asked.
     
    Amanda studied it carefully. “Arched like Cupid’s bow?” she suggested hopefully.
     
    “No, no,” he said sadly. “You have failed to please me. A
mouth
, my dear Miss Amanda, is compared to a Cupid’s bow. What can one say of an eyebrow? Like a hairy caterpillar’s back arched in the sun?”
     
    “No,” said Amanda, “I do not think that would do
at all.
I am persuaded you are bamming me.”
     
    “When you have praised my leg so beautifully? I can assure you that no female of my acquaintance has ever appreciated my poor leg so much before. When I die, I shall have it embalmed and sent to you.”
     
    Amanda gave a snort of laughter. “I was trying to flirt, my lord, because it is the thing to do, don’t you see, but obviously I do not know the right way to go about it.”
     
    “Then you need lessons.” He picked up her hand and held it lightly in his and smiled into her eyes. “I could teach you.…”
     
    The sound of a shrill exclamation made him turn around. Amanda followed his gaze.
     
    The earl and countess, Miss Devine, and the other members of the earl’s house party were standing in the doorway with the master of ceremonies, Mr. Jessamyn. Mr. Jessamyn had told the earl in no uncertain terms that the behaviour of his guests had offended most of the county present at the ball. Furthermore, Miss Devine’s insults had been too much. The earl had agreed to remove the members of his party forthwith. Mr. Jessamyn as hunt secretary was allowed a license given to few and spoke his mind in the ballroom as he spoke his mind on the hunting field.
     
    Miss Devine was furious that the earl had not stood upon his rank.
She
was not going to stand and shuffle her feet in disgrace and allow herself to be patronised by a set of country nobodies.
     
    “Then
come along
,” she said in a loud carrying voice. “I am still feeling shaken after having been jumped on by some great ploughboy.”
     
    There was a shocked silence and then everyone started to talk at once. Amanda’s eyes flew across the room to where her brother sat. His face was red with mortification.
     
    “Excuse me one moment, my lord,” she said breathlessly. “I must go to Richard,” and without waiting for his reply she hurried off.
     
    “Oh, Richard,” whispered Amanda, sliding into an empty chair beside him. “She is horrible, that woman. Do not look so stricken, I beg of you.”
     
    “Damn them,” said Richard fiercely. “I would rob the lot if I could.”
     
    “Oh, Richard, do not refine too much on it. She is spoilt. She dresses like a Cyprian. Oh, see, they are leaving. I must say good-bye to Lord Hawksborough and then I will return.”
     
    As Amanda left to join Richard, Lord Hawksborough experienced a stab of what he was sure was indigestion as he watched her slight figure move quickly across the room.
     
    He found the earl at his elbow and rose to his feet. “Well, Hawksborough,” grunted the earl. “Seems some of my ladies have disgraced us. Better get ’em off, heh!”
     
    “Yes,” said the viscount wearily. “I will help see the ladies to the carriages.”
     
    Unseen by the viscount, Amanda had come back and was standing behind the earl, within earshot.
     
    “Want to say good-bye to your young lady?” said the earl.
     
    “My… Oh, the village maiden,” said Lord Hawksborough. He still had that pain in his chest and it was getting worse. The evening had been insipid. Miss Amanda had enlivened it considerably, but he would not see her again and she preferred the company of her country lover, Richard.
     
    “No,” he went on with quite dreadful clarity. “I shall be glad to leave. I cannot remember when I last spent a more boring