What if he had no wish to do either? What a dreadfully lowering thought! It would not normally have entered Rachel's head. She had grown to assume that most gentlemen sought out her company with some eagerness. But Mr. Gower was not most gentlemen. She rather suspected that he was quite different, in fact. And so she felt distinctly uneasy about the approach of the waltz.

He had not even glanced at her since greeting her at the end of the first set. She could swear it because, annoyingly, she had glanced at him a great many times. He had remained in the ballroom, unlike Algie and many of the other gentlemen, who disappeared quite frequently, probably into the card room, she suspected. And he had danced each set. He had talked almost constantly with Celia during the waltz. She had wondered what they had found to talk about. It was true that she had prattled almost nonstop to Algie, but then she always talked, while Celia rarely did.

And Mr. Gower had danced with several of those giggly girls who usually huddled together in groups. They must have been pleased. Several of them hardly ever danced. That was probably the reason they stayed so close to one another, and was also perhaps the reason Mr. Gower asked them, Rachel thought with a pang of guilt for the scorn she had often felt for those girls. Was the man teaching her a lesson in compassion?

But not a single glance at her. She did not know why she should feel chagrin at the fact. Plenty of other men had paid a great deal of attention to her. She was still feeling a glow of triumph at having danced with the Marquess of Stanford. And he was indeed charming. And attractive. He was possibly too thin, his face too angular to be called handsome. But definitely attractive. And he had looked at her appreciatively all the time they danced. He had made her feel as if she were the only lady worth looking at in the whole room.