Lady Bell was, however, equal to the occasion.
“Come along, Una,” she said, gayly. “Fanny, will you make room beside you for Miss Rolfe?”
The Countess of Pierrepoint smiled.
“How do you do, Miss Rolfe!” she said graciously. “I hear you were at Lady Bell’s dance last night; why did you let her hide you so completely?”
Una was silent.
Fortunately Dalrymple made so much bustle and fuss in starting, that conversation for a minute or two was impossible; and before that minute or two had passed, Una had gained her self-possession.
Seated about, she recognized several of the people Lady Bell had pointed out on the preceding evening: Lady Clarence, Mrs. Cantrip, the Marchioness of Fairfield. Beside Dalrymple, who had all his work cut out in keeping the four spirited nags in good conduct in the crowded London streets, sat, as a matter of course, Sir Arkroyd Hetley, while one or two other men—one of whom she heard addressed as the viscount—was with the ladies.
Had Una been naturally nervous, her timidity could not long have existed in such an atmosphere.
Her companions were among the highest in the land; but there was less reserve and ceremony than would have been found in a similar gathering of middle-class people. The men were laughing and chatting, ever and again turning round to make some light-hearted remark, or pass some joke round. They were all, it was evident, bent on enjoying themselves.
Very soon Una found herself brought into the conversation, Lady Bell talking to her continually, and pointing out the lions of the road.