Chapter fourLord Wynchingham leant against a marble pillar in his ballroom and started to calculated what the ball was costing him.
‘Dammit,’ he said to himself. ‘I cannot see myself getting out much under one thousand guineas, and,’ he added surlily, ‘that is unlikely to include Tina’s gown and all the other innumerable fahdilahs that the Dowager considered so essential.’
Lord Wynchingham turned as if to go towards the champagne bar that had been erected in the entresol outside the ballroom and then remembered that even one glass would cost him money. With tight lips he returned to his scrutiny of the dancers.
There was no doubt at all that Tina was enjoying herself and there was equally no gainsaying that she was, in actual fact, the belle of the ball.
Her dress of white gauze embroi
