“What do I do if someone asks me to dance?” Constance whispered. “This is my first ball.”
Olivia set her suspicions aside. Standing outside a ball was not the time to interrogate her charge. She gestured to Thel to follow his parents, then drew Constance aside. “Show me your dance card.”
Constance fished it out of her sleeve and spread the leaves apart. This dismay on her face would have been comical if she had not been so obviously distressed. “There are so many dances. Must I join all of them?”
Olivia stifled a laugh. She had almost forgotten the careful hand debutantes required.
“No, you mustn’t. In fact…” She tapped on three lines, dispersed through the sheet. “As this is your first season, you are expected to sit these out. Use the pencil attached to the other end of the string to place an X in those spaces. Any man who asks to see the card will understand what that means.”
Constance found the small nub of pencil, then frowned. “What do I do during those dances, then? I don’t want to be perceived as a wallflower.”
“I’ll show you,” Olivia said, gesturing toward the house.
They climbed the steps and stood just outside the door so Constance could see inside without being observed.
The ballroom was long and narrow, with a ceiling that went up three stories to a peak. Garlands of greenery hung from the rafters between rows of black chandeliers, burning with candles rather than gaslight.
Several tables and chairs were set up closest to them, and beyond that, women in colorful dresses swirled in the arms of suited men.
Olivia motioned toward a group of matrons gracing a table along the far wall.
Constance screwed up her face. “But they’re older than my grandmother. They’ll pinch my cheeks and treat me like a child.”
“Exactly. No one will bother you for a dance because no one will want to come near. Now, let’s not waste any more time.” She drew Constance into the ballroom and pointed out the three men she had selected as initial candidates.
First was Sir Newton, newly arrived from Scotland. His copper hair and bright-green eyes made him immediately recognizable. Next was Lord Winsley, the second son of their host, the Duke of Haversham. He was more difficult to spot, but she eventually found him lurking in the shadows near the last candidate, Mr. Inwood, heir to a remarkable fortune and blessed with a softness of features that had many ladies swooning over him.
Each young man was eminently suitable, of even temper, and handsome enough to attract Constance’s attention.
“What if none of them interest me?” Constance bit her lip. “What if there’s… someone else?”
Olivia’s heart thudded in her chest. This was her chance to extract information. She had to be careful. If she seemed too eager, too much like a parent, she might cause Constance to withdraw. She kept her tone light. “Then I would suggest you use tonight as an opportunity to test your feelings.”
Constance tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Olivia grasped for a reason the girl would follow. “Infatuation is a fleeting state, not a solid base for a marriage. Exploring other possibilities will either reveal you have settled your heart or confirm you are still uncertain.”
“I suppose so,” Constance said. “Well, no use waiting until I sprout roots.”
They stepped into the light, and within moments, Sir Newton separated from the group of ladies he had been speaking to and headed directly toward them.
A look of utter panic filled Constance’s face.
“Stay calm,” Olivia whispered. “He will greet me first, as we have already been introduced. That will give you time to reassemble. If you still feel as if you cannot speak, begin with a deep curtsey.”
Constance gave a shaky nod.
Sir Newton arrived. “Lady Allen. Lady Constance.”
Constance answered the young man’s bow with a curtsey. “Sir Newton.”
Something tight inside Olivia unwound. She had worried about Constance’s ability to cope with the pressure of her first official event.
“May I have your next dance?” Sir Newton asked.
Constance glanced at Olivia, then tilted her head back and returned her attention to Sir Newton. “Certainly, sir.”
The girl accepted Sir Newton’s hand and cast only a fleeting glance over her shoulder before the pair vanished into the swirl of dancers.
