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Philippa, the Duchess of Brunswick, opened a wide smile at the sight of her. “Hester, this is such a delightful surprise.”
“Your Grace,” she curtsied as etiquette demanded in this large gathering, “I’m honoured to be in one of your rare balls.” Hester also curtsied to the duke before he exchanged a few words with Drake.
"You are most welcome in this house," Philippa said warmly.
The marquess offered his arm, and they entered the ballroom. A thousand candles from the chandeliers dazzled her eyes and lit the crush inside. And that was all she got before people noticed them. As Drake and Hester made their way inside, matrons turned to one another to whisper behind their fans, married ladies crunched their noses, match-making mamas pulled their daughters away.
But Hester didn't wilt. Surprisingly enough, the one feeling that rose above the others was… commiseration. For the matrons who'd dedicated their entire lives to enforcing rules and morals that benefitted only the men in their ranks. For most of the married ladies who must swallow their husbands' drinking, gambling, and whoring, and gained no reward except for an indiscretion here and there. For the debutantes who'd follow on their mothers' and grandmothers' steps, and who'd probably not go against the unfairness of it all. Deep in her heart, she sensed their loneliness, the measure of the sacrifices they made in the name of aristocratic standards. Right or wrong, Hester deemed herself in a better place than those women. It wasn't arrogance or spite; it was just that she regarded herself as freer, with a broader range of reading, with more places she could go, more people she could meet. She'd choose her richer existence any day over the restrictions, the veritable social corset those women were obligated to squeeze in every hour of every day. Terribly stifling!
So, she smiled. Not as a skilled actress, but as a woman who lived a full life, and derived happiness from it.
Drake looked down at her and something akin to exhilaration came to his expression. “I suppose I need not ask if you’re all right,” he rasped only for her ears.
She directed her smile to him. "No, you don't." If it weren't for his insistence, she wouldn't be here. She probably should thank him later. "It's an experience worth having if you ask me."
“You are thinking like one of the scientists in our soirees, I gather.” His gaze caressed her with that melting intimacy they shared in the last year, causing her midriff to flip and yearn.
He must have meant that she regarded the ball as a sample of his station laid out for dissection. “You could say.” Around her, their banter and her detachment produced more disdainful behaviour.
“Hester!” Turning her head, she saw Amelia. The Duchess of Brunswick wouldn’t fail in inviting the astronomer. “Good to see a familiar face in this crush.” She neared the couple and curtsied to Lord Worcester.
“If the ladies excuse me,” Drake said. “I’ll talk to Thornton.” The earl had made eye contact with his friend and nodded as Drake weaved his way in that direction.
“Do all balls attract this throng?” Hester asked as a way to make conversation.
“Unlikely,” Amelia answered. “But the last time the Brunswicks had a ball was… why, when the old duke and duchess were still alive.” The other girl marvelled. No wonder this one attracted so many people.
“My sister and my brother by marriage like to bury themselves in the country, poor things.” Mrs Darroch, arm in arm with Otilia, the Countess of Thornton, joined in.
“The country has its allures; I’ll give them that.” The countess added. “Shall we find refreshments to ease the crush?”
Heading there, they almost collided with Lady Millicent. She must be here with her chaperone because her father was nowhere to be seen. For the first time this evening, Hester wondered if her presence here wouldn’t affect the debutante. Obviously, it would, and not positively. The group curtsied to the young lady as Hester opened her mouth to apologise.
Lady Millicent beat her to it. “Lord Worcester told me of his plans.” She whispered to Hester.
The debutante had decided blatantly to commit herself to spinsterhood, Hester concluded, hoping she knew what she was doing regarding this marriage-mart suicide, considering. Relieved, she smiled at the girl. The five women headed to the refreshments table in deep conversation.
“If you intended to dispel the rumours, you couldn’t have done it with more feather-ruffling flair.” Edmund jabbed.
"I told you there was no match," Drake stated, observing that the marriageable girls looked forlornly at him while the lords cast him admiring glances. Yes, let's talk about hypocrisy, shall we, he derided internally.
“Reluctant to join the married men ranks, I see.” Harris Darroch jested as he approached both men accompanied by the duke. The men had Champagne in their hands.
“Unless he has other plans in this regard.” Edmund pried suggestively.
“You’ll get nothing from me,” Drake defended.
Undoubtedly, he wouldn’t confess that she refused his suit irrevocably, a fact that still induced topsy-turvy feelings. A woman who refused a lord was an unheard-of creature. Drake understood her misgivings, her disregard for ranks, and her commitment to the theatre. He did and wouldn’t even blame her for them. But they’d been acquainted with each other for a year. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know each other. Her rejection fell in his guts like a rock rolling from uphill, and he hadn't digested it properly yet. That she'd regard their match as improper just as his mother would, might be ironic, if he didn't feel in such a muddy ground about it.
“Ouch,” Harris mocked, wrenching him from his musings. “He’s become more tight-lipped than Brunswick.” And dawned the content of his glass.
“Philippa has a whole different opinion on the matter.” Titus quipped smugly.
“Heaven protect me from fallen men!” Jested Worcester.
In the company of his best friends, Drake felt content. The fact Hester accepted to attend with him caused something to swell in the region where his heart should be. He ranked this possibly as the best ball of his life. Especially because Hester didn’t seem to mind what others thought of her presence here.
At that moment, the orchestra started playing, and Drake turned to his friends. “I’m afraid I must leave you. I’ve booked this dance.”
