Aunt Florence made a decent job of manoeuvring them through the crowd. Every few steps an acquaintance hailed her, and then there were generally introductions and pleasantries to get through. All in all, the walk from the staircase to the ballroom threshold took at least twenty minutes, probably more.
There was alittlespace surrounding the doorway, and the two women had a chance to stand and catch their breath a little. Abigail was already sweating. She wished she hadn’t left her fan upstairs. There would be no going back to get it now.
“Are you alright, my dear?” Aunt Florence asked. “Is it too much for you?”
It was, but Abigail had no intention of saying so.
“I’m fine, thank you. If I can just find somewhere to sit…”
“Sit? Oh, my darling girl. Only matrons and chaperonessit.”
“I always sit down at balls.”
“Because you are a wallflower. Wallflowers don’t get asked to dance, and if I’m not mistaken, you are about to be asked.”
Aunt Florence tapped Abigail on the shoulder with her closed fan and nodded in the direction of a gentleman heading their way. He was a rabbity-looking young man, fairly harmless, and smiled hopefully at Abigail as he approached.
Aunt Florence quickly made the introductions – Sir Tobias Hemming – and Sir Tobias immediately asked for a dance. Abigail was so shocked that she nearly dropped her pencil when she filled in his name. He bowed, smiled, and retreated into the crowd.
“For future reference,” Aunt Florence remarked, “better let the gentlemen sign their own names. They like that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He seemed pleasant.”
“He is, but sadly requires a rich wife. Your dowry wouldn’t be enough.”
Abigail flinched. “Oh. Why did you let me accept a dance with him, then?”
“My dear girl,” Aunt Florence laughed, “A full dance card is the most attractive thing a lady can possess. Sir Tobias probably already knows you are not rich enough for him, but he wants to curry favour with us both. And it worked. He wants to be seen dancing with lots of suitable ladies, and you want to be seen dancing with gentlemen. A symbiotic relationship, you see.”
“I see,” Abigail lied smoothly.
“I should hope so. Ah, I see there’s a refreshment stand over there. I shall get lemonades, you stand here and look pretty.”
Without waiting for a response, Aunt Florence plunged off into the crowd, leaving Abigail standing alone.
Not alone for long.
“You look overwhelmed, Miss Atwater,” came a male voice from just behind her, making Abigail jump.
She already knew whose voice it was, although she’d only heard it once. Best not to think aboutthattoo hard.
“My lord,” she managed, her voice little more than a squeak. “You startled me.”
“I beg your pardon,” he responded, moving to stand beside her. He looked very fine tonight, Abigail thought. It was fine tothinksuch things, so long as she didn’t dwell on those thoughts.
He wore a dark blue suit, which might be a little too colourful for a party like this, and a blue and gold waistcoat underneath, which wascertainlytoo colourful.
That odd clenching feeling returned to Abigail’s chest. Perhaps the dress was too tight.
“What do you think?” Lord Alexander asked, gesturing to the ball in general with his whiskey glass.
“It’s very crowded, but the ballroom looks beautiful.”
He nodded, taking a long sip. “I made the centrepieces myself.”
Blinking, Abigail glanced over at one of the centrepieces in question. It was an expertly arranged bouquet of flowers, set in an elegant white vase decorated with ribbon. The flowers weren’t the usual hothouse variety.
“They’re wildflowers,” she heard herself say, vaguely surprised.
