She went home, and put on her simplest white dress, and clasped the amethysts round her neck, and put the purple stars in her hair, just as she had worn them at Cleverley more than two years ago.
When she went in to Una, who was glad enough to make her health an excuse for not meeting the two young men, the girl looked at her half frightened.
“Amethyst,” she said, “you never looked so lovely in your life.”
So thought Sylvester Riddell, as he came into the drawing-room among the other guests of the evening, with Lucian Leigh by his side. He was pale and nervous, and felt intensely the awkwardness of the situation as they walked up to Lady Haredale. Lucian’s extreme straightforwardness saved him from the difficulty.
“Lady Haredale,” he said very low, “I have to beg your pardon.”
“What for, Mr Leigh? Oh, I haven’t at all a good memory, but all our Cleverley friends are welcome, as I told my daughter when she happened to mention that you were coming. Mrs Leigh is not in town?”
She smiled with cheerful sweetness, but Lucian felt as if she had dashed a cup of cold water in his face.
He looked handsome and striking, with his tall slight figure, and his delicate, regular face bronzed with travel, and marked by an intense gravity of expression.
“Oh, my stars,” whispered Tory to Kattern, “he’s a deal more thorough-bred than Sir Richard!” While Miss Haredale sighed over the wild insanity that had allowed him to appear at this juncture.
Amethyst was standing under a chandelier; she had the faculty of being able to stand perfectly still. Several people were round her, among them Sir Richard, and Oliver Carisbrooke. A lady congratulated Sir Richard on his delightful ball.