Mermaids Singing by Dilly Court

Iris see that her constant sniping bothered her, and came face to face with Giles Rackham.
    ‘My dear Lady Mableton,’ Rackham said, with a small bow. ‘How delightful to meet you twice in the same day.’
    Bella felt her heart pounding against the cage of her tightly laced corsets and prayed silently that she wouldn’t faint. She couldn’t keep up the pretence of not knowing him and risk drawing attention to herself. Inclining her head, she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Good evening, Mr Rackham.’
    Rackham grinned, his teeth startlingly white against his olive skin. ‘So you remember me now.’
    ‘I do,’ Bella said, unfurling her fan and fluttering it in front of her face. ‘And I’m surprised they allowed a libertine like you to enter this house.’
    ‘I’m devastated, my dear Bella,’ Rackham said, holding his hand over his heart, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘You seem to have lost your good opinion of me, but I remember a time when it wasn’t so.’
    ‘And I’d rather forget it,’ Bella said, in a low voice. ‘I don’t know how you managed to worm your way into this party but, if you have even the slightest vestige of regard left for me, you’ll leave now, before anyone notices you.’
    ‘You know that I would do anything to oblige you, my darling. But it might prove be a bit difficult since our illustrious host, Lord Swafford, is my uncle.’
    Glancing over his shoulder, Bella saw Iris watching them with a frankly curious expression on her face. To make matters worse, Desmond had just come into the room, chatting with Lady Swafford, and they were heading this way.
    ‘Just leave me alone, Giles,’ Bella said. ‘For God’s sake, leave me be.’
    Rackham took her hand and brushed it with his lips. ‘I will. For now, at least.’ And he strolled off.
    Rackham was seated on the opposite side of the table from Bella at dinner, a few places down and too far away for conversation, but close enough for him to catch her eye every time she turned her head in his direction. Every mouthful of food seemed to choke her and, by the time Lady Swafford rose to her feet, requesting the ladies to join her in the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars, Bella had developed a pounding headache.
    In the drawing room, Lady Swafford, a large lady with a deep bosom that seemed to droop beneath the weight of her diamond and ruby necklace, sailed up to Bella and laid her hand on her arm. ‘You look a little pale, my dear. Are you not feeling quite the thing?’
    ‘Just a headache,’ Bella said, glancing over Lady Swafford’s ample shoulders to make sure that Iris was not within earshot. Mercifully, she was seated at a card table on the far side of the room. ‘It will pass in a moment or two.’
    ‘I understand,’ Lady Swafford said, with a knowing smile. ‘I was like that every time I was in an interesting condition.’
    ‘No, no,’ protested Bella, feeling the colour flood to her cheeks. ‘It’s not that.’
    ‘No? But of course you already have a little daughter, have you not?’
    ‘Leonie, yes, she is just two.’
    ‘And Sir Desmond already has a son and heir,’ Lady Swafford said, her gaze shifting as her interest appeared to wane.
    ‘Yes, Edward, but I have yet to meet him.’
    A spark of curiosity lighting her eyes, Lady Swafford put her head on one side. ‘I believe that the gallant captain is in the Sudan fighting the Dervishes.’
    ‘We all hope he will return safely before too long.’
    ‘Yes, of course, we hope that for all our brave men, and no doubt the gentlemen are still mourning the death of poor General Gordon at Khartoum, and celebrating our glorious victory at Omdurman. You’ll excuse me, my dear.’
    Lady Swafford patted Bella’s hand, moving on to speak to an elderly dowager, who was clutching a hearing trumpet to her ear and shouting at her companion, a thin, pale-faced young woman who looked as though she would rather be anywhere but here.
    Bella