The Silk Merchant's Daughter by Dinah Jefferies Page B

Nicole said and meant it. ‘I shouldn’t have been such an idiot.’
    She slipped her fingers into Mark’s large warm hand. With his other hand firmly on the small of her back, he guided her tothe centre of the room. When they began to move Nicole felt light-headed and pressed herself against him. The solidity of his body so close for more than just a brief hug released a tension inside her she hadn’t known she had been holding. He whirled her round in a Viennese Waltz and, barely aware of the other dancers, she spun across the floor. The faces blurred – even Sylvie disappeared – until the room emptied of everything but him. When her feet began to perform the steps without her needing to think about them, she acknowledged that those dull ballroom dancing classes had been worthwhile after all. She felt thrilled to feel so free, and couldn’t believe the wonder of it. When the music stopped after three dances in a row, his eyes lingered on her face as he blew the fringe from her eyes.
    ‘Your hair has come loose.’
    As he ran his fingers down the nape of her neck, she noticed him smile. He’d used the opportunity to repin her hair to touch her and, knowing that, she grinned, so aware of his fingertips that she felt she might melt. He turned her round and held her away from him.
    ‘Thirsty?’
    She was. It was smoky too and she felt weightless from dancing, though maybe more from his proximity than anything else. He said he’d fetch champagne and asked her to wait at the side of the room, where she replayed every moment of the dance in her mind to fix it for ever. One of the French girls who had previously called her names walked by with her mother. Nicole smiled but they blanked her. She didn’t care. This was her best impression of being a well-brought-up French girl so far.
    Mark was gone for longer than expected, so she decided to find him. As she glanced around, a passing waiter handed her a glass of champagne and, after drinking it in one long gulp, she went to look in the lounges.
    In the first lounge, cigar smoke mingled with the intoxicating smell of brandy from the glasses of a few elderly men in armchairs. She tried the other lounges and bars, then headed back into the ballroom where the crowd had dispersed a little. She made her way through the people standing about in knots and spotted Mark opening a side door at the other end of the hall. As he went through it she started to go after him, but was distracted by her old school friend Francine, who took hold of her hand and wanted to gossip about inconsequential things. Although Nicole kept glancing at the door, Mark didn’t come back out and by the time she managed to shake Francine off several minutes had passed.
    Finally she made her way to the door, opened it and found herself in a chilly corridor with no carpet. She followed it round, expecting to find perhaps a discreet way through to the gaming rooms. Instead, the corridor twisted and eventually came to an end at a place where there was only one door. She pulled it open. A steep stone staircase led downwards. She hesitated and, although it seemed odd, she began to make her way down because Mark must have definitely come this way.
    A metal handrail provided a degree of safety, and as she reached the concrete floor at the bottom, it became clear she must now be underground and in a wine cellar. She continued along the passage until, hearing the murmur of voices, she came to a halt. The voices faded. She continued past several alcoves, two of which opened into vaulted rooms storing barrels and racks of wine. This far below she could no longer hear the orchestra clearly, and only the sound of her own footsteps echoed around the cavernous place.
    Curious about what might be at the end of the passage, she eventually reached a row of shelves that had been swung back but not quite properly closed afterwards. She frowned but pulled them open and saw what looked like a metal door witha small central