“I agree, my dear, taking a few days to yourself is an excellent idea,” Lady Telford said. “You’ve been up late and out early.”
Vivian appeared flushed. “Do you have a fever?” Silvia asked. Not that Silvia wanted her friend to be ill, but then perhaps she could remain home to nurse Vivian, and put off the inevitable for a while longer.
“No, I might be a bit warm, but that happens sometimes.” She set her glass on the small square end table. “You two run along and have a good time. I’ll be fine with a night’s rest.”
They chatted a few minutes longer before her ladyship rose. “It is time we leave. You should know, Vivian, Lord Beresford has asked Silvia to stand up with him.”
Vivian’s brows knit together for a brief moment, then her brow cleared and the corners of her lips tugged up. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Silvia wanted to sink right through the floor, run back home, or in some other way disappear.
“He never really wished to marry me. I have no doubt my husband put him up to it. Edgar had a great many regrets as he was dying.”
“Harrumph.” Lady Telford snorted. “A pity he didn’t have them sooner.”
There was that. Maybe Silvia standing up with Nick would stop him from distressing her friend. “If my dancing with him means he’ll stop bothering you, then it will be worth it.” Neither of her friends needed to know that Nick Beresford’s only objective was to irritate Silvia to death.
She placed the back of her arm across her forehead, assuming a suitably tragic pose. “I will suffer in your place.”
Vivian chuckled. “You do not believe me, but you will.”
If they knew the truth about her history with Nick Beresford, neither Vivian nor Cousin Clara would be so light-hearted about the situation.
“Let us be off.” Her ladyship moved toward the door. “We’d better get there if you’re going to sacrifice yourself on the altar of duty.”
The ballroom was already crowded when they arrived.
“Miss Corbet, you are finally here.” Lord Bumfield rushed up to her. “I was so afraid you would miss our dance.”
“I’m sorry, Lady Beresford is not entirely well, and I did not wish to rush off and leave her.”
“No, of course you would not.” He bowed. “It is nice to see a young lady who cares about the travails of others. What a true friend you are.”
She watched her toes carefully as they went through the steps of the country dance, but she needn’t have worried. Lord Bumfield had vastly improved since the first time she had stood up with him. She merely wished he had not transferred his affections from Vivian to her.
“After I trod all over your feet at the last ball, I hired a dancing master.”
“You are doing extremely well, my lord.”
He grinned. “Yes, I believe I am.”
Her card was full, and Silvia did not sit out one set, yet all too soon, Nick was bowing to her. “Miss Corbet, my dance, I believe.”
Although it was what almost every gentleman said, from him it sounded smug, as if he was claiming more than a dance. “It is, my lord.”
Silvia vowed she would have no reaction to him. She would go through the motions as if he were no one special and never had been. Yet the second his gloved palm rested on her waist and his hand engulfed hers, shivers of sensation raced through her, the same as the last time he’d touched her.
This was not good. Silvia couldn’t breathe and the sparrows in her stomach were making her ill. She couldn’t do this. “Nick.”
Silvia’s voice was so low Nick could barely hear her. He searched her face. She had paled. “Silvia, what’s wrong?”
As the music began, he wrestled with what he should do. Then she took a large gulp of air, and her color improved. Quickly he started twirling her around the floor. “What was it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.”
After leaving her the way he had a few years ago, he deserved that. He should have said adieu himself instead of leaving it to another. Despite his hopes, Silvia had apparently never forgiven him. Nick supposed his first hint should have been when she failed to answer the letters he’d received permission to send her. How was he to respond to her now, though? Tell her in the middle of a ball that he still loved her?
“Is this part of a wager?”
