There was no need to specify whohewas—they both knew perfectly well.
“Yes,” Daphne murmured, letting out a weary breath.
That same unpleasant tingling crept over her skin. It was the one that came whenever Briarwood’s gaze found her.
She dared not look for him. If she met his eyes, he would take it as invitation. That man needed no encouragement.
“Are you all right?” Victoria pressed, linking her arm with her twin.
Daphne swallowed as she noticed that the young men who had been on the verge of approaching her were suddenly finding ways to turn around, spin on their boot heels, and retreat.
Only one thing could be blamed for the quick reversal.
Or, rather, only one person.
“I am well,” she replied, even as she felt goosebumps ripple on her skin.
Lord Briarwood’s gaze had a way of burning through several people, reaching her almost as if he were right there in front of her.
“I’m not certain you’re telling me the truth,” Victoria grumbled. “I can see it in your eyes that he’s affecting you. Nobody else dares approach you because of him. Have you failed to see the way he watches you?”
Daphne initially fought the urge to turn her eyes upon the Earl, but then, curiosity got the best of her. When she dared to lift her chin and peek in his direction, she saw Briarwood standing across the room, half-turned in conversation, yet his eyes found her all the same. His smile was polite enough for Society, but there was something greedy in the way his mouth tilted at the corners…
Something about that expression made her feel as though he were imagining her already trapped beneath his hand.
“I do,” she said quietly. “Even when he is not standing right in front of me, his eyes follow me everywhere. He… he will not desist.”
Victoria clenched her jaw, and Daphne knew that her twin had more things to say, but they no longer had time to talk because a swarm of debutantes approached. Their gowns rustled together, sounding like the ruffling of goose feathers. United, the young ladies curtsied together, but neither of their stiff smiles reached their eyes.
“Lady Daphne,” Lady Frances chirped, “how fortunate you are to catch and hold Lord Briarwood’s admiration. I wonder… what is your secret?”
“Some of us would do anything to be given such attention,” her friend—a lady with squinty eyes and bushy eyebrows, who Daphne did not know at all—added. She snapped her fan open and used it vigorously on her face.
Daphne did not like the tone of their voices nor did she appreciate the giggling that followed. However, she had always been the obedient, poised twin. She tried her best to respond to every situation with grace, even though doing so had become harder and harder as of late.
“You are far too generous in your observations. I believe the only reason Lord Briarwood is attentive tonight is that I was playingthe pianoforte. However, I hope that every young woman receives the attention she wants from whomever she wishes.”
They didn’t know that Daphne meant every word. Earning the attention of the wrong person could be a bane to anyone’s existence. She often enjoyed social gatherings, not because she was actively seeking a husband, as her mother would have liked her to do, but because pleasing others had long been second nature. Even so, she was beginning to feel the strain.
Unfortunately, the other young women chose to misunderstand her. Their smiles sharpened. Lady Frances exchanged a sly look with her friend, then took three steps forward.
Daphne was taken by surprise. She could not backpedal quickly enough to move out of the way and as Lady Frances collided with her, the contents of her glass splashed across Daphne’s pastel-pink gown.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Daphne stood motionless, feeling the cold seep of liquid spread through silk and onto her skin.
“Oh, my,” Lady Frances said sweetly, feigning shock. “How dreadfully clumsy of me.” Her eyes gleamed with delight.
“You vile—” Victoria sputtered, undoubtedly stopping herself before words that would shame their entire lineage escaped her.
Daphne reached for her sister’s arm, the flush on her cheeks spreading to her chest, where the heat of humiliation battled the chill of her soaked gown.
“It’s nothing, truly, Vicky,” she said softly. “We can go home now or perhaps find a private room to sort it out.”
“Ladies, ladies.”
Daphne’s heart gave a startled leap at the familiar voice. For a fleeting moment, the tension eased.
Her brother had arrived.
