Emery glanced up at him, unsure of what to say. They had not spoken yet of that night, of the moment she had been sure he was about to kiss her.Perhaps it’s best if we don’t speak about it.But being at the Andersons’ Ball now, once more in his arms as he swept her around the room, she was reminded of it very strongly.
The memory, however, proved distracting, because at that very moment she trod on his feet.
“Uff,” he said, without thinking, and stumbled slightly.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” she whispered, freezing up at once. “I didn’t mean--”
“Don’t worry at all,” he said smoothly, resuming the dance with only the slightest of hiccups. “Just keep dancing.”
She forced herself to return to the steps, glancing around covertly through lowered eyes. Was it her imagination, or were heads turning in their direction?
“Do you think anyone saw that?” she murmured up to Lucien.
“I don’t know,” he said pleasantly. “Perhaps. But it’s no big deal. People make small mistakes dancing all the time.”
“Are you sure?” she could hear the panic in her voice. “I don’t want to embarrass you or Leah.”
“Don’t worry at all.” He smiled down at her, then held her a little closer. “I’ve been in thetonlong enough to know the kinds of mistakes that matter and the kinds that don’t. This is one of those that don’t matter. It is a social faux pas that makes the tongues of thetonwag.”
Emery hoped he was right, but as she glanced around again, she thought she saw several ladies with their fans raised, whispering to one another.It doesn’t mean they’re whispering about you, she reminded herself.They could be gossiping about anything.
Still, she felt eyes watching her for the rest of the dance, and when at last it was over, she was relieved.
“Why don’t we go get some lemonade?” Lucien asked, and she nodded. He took her arm and led her away through the crowd, until the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head was gone. At the lemonade stand, he handed her a glass, and she sipped it gratefully.
“I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine,” Lucien said after a moment. “Would you feel comfortable with that?”
“Of course!” The lemonade had revived her, and now that she was away from the dancefloor, she was eager to once again throw herself into this experience.
“Good. Some of them are right over there. And--ahh--Leah is with them.”
He led her by the hand over to a small group of people gathered nearby, which included Aunt Wilhelmina, Leah, two ladies Emery didn’t know, and a gentleman she thought looked vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t place from where.
Lucien introduced the two ladies as Lady Violet Crane and Lady Emeline Rolfsley and the man as Dorian Attor, the Duke of Nottington.
“Ahh, Your Grace,” Nottington said, bowing low before her. “I’m pleased to officially make your acquaintance. Your husband has told me much about you.”
Emery felt her stomach churn nervously. Does that mean the Duke has told him what a disaster our wedding was? Is he a friend, or a foe, in our attempt to keep it all a secret?
However, as she offered him her hand, he gave her a kind, if reserved smile, and she got the impression that he wasn’t about to tell thetonthe truth of what happened that day.
“It is nice to make your acquaintance as well,” she said, as he kissed her hand. “I wish my husband had told me more about you.”
“I don’t take it personally,” Nottington said with a smile. “The Duke is very reserved. I’d be surprised if he’d told you much about me.”
“And how do you enjoy being the Duchess of Dredford, Your Grace?” one of the ladies asked. Emery couldn’t remember which was which, and she felt herself flush with embarrassment.
“I like it very much, Miss Crane,” she said, smiling at the lady. At once, she could tell that she’d said something wrong. The woman’s face went pale, and everyone in the group stopped talking and stared at them.
The woman glanced at Lucien, then back at Emery. “I’m g-glad to hear that,” she stammered.
“LadyCrane is also an old friend,” Lucien said, and Emery realized her mistake at once: she had taken away the lady’s title by calling her a meremiss. Mortification flooded her, and she wished she could have disappeared on the spot. Calling a lady of thetonby the wrong title was one of the worst faux pas she could imagine. Emery looked at Lucien, trying to ascertain how bad her mistake had been, but his expression remained neutral and mild.
“Well, any friend of the Duke’s is a friend of mine,” Emery managed to say, turning back to Lady Crane and giving her the most apologetic smile she could muster. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
They chatted idly for a few minutes more. Lady Crane was curious to hear about Leah’s first Season and whether or not she was enjoying herself, while the Duke of Nottington said very little, although Emery couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept flickering to Leah more often than was strictly necessary.
At last, she excused herself, saying that she needed some air.
