“I’m right here,” Augusta interjected, stepping forward before she could stop herself.
Four pairs of eyes swiveled toward her, four expressions carefully rearranged into something approximating pleasant surprise.
“Miss Norton,” Hudson said, his voice warming fractionally. “I was just telling the ladies here about Cassie’s enthusiasm for the balloon exhibition.”
“And we were just saying,” the heart-faced lady added quickly, “how delightful it is to see Lady Cassandra enjoying the ball. Children bring such… freshness to these events.”
“Indeed,” the brunette agreed. “Though I imagine you must find it quite exhausting, Miss Norton. Children can be so… demanding.”
The implied criticism hung in the air between them.
Augusta felt her cheeks warm but kept her expression neutral. “Lady Cassandra is remarkably undemanding,” she declared. “A credit to her upbringing.”
Hudson’s mouth twitched at the corner.
“I believe,” he said, “that the next set is starting. Lady Cecilia, would you do me the honor?”
Lady Cecilia beamed with triumph. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”
But before she could take his proffered arm, Cassie’s face fell. “You’re dancing again?” she asked, her voice small. “But you’ve already danced three times. And you promised you’d dance with me.”
An awkward silence descended. The ladies exchanged glances of derision.
“Children,” the brunette murmured to the heart-faced lady, “have absolutely no sense of occasion.”
“They require constant supervision,” the heart-faced lady agreed. “So exhausting for the staff.”
Cassie’s lower lip began to tremble. Her eyes, fixed on her brother’s face, welled with tears that she was clearly fighting to hold back.
Before Hudson could respond, a cheerful voice came from behind.
“I believe,” James materialized at Cassie’s side, “that I have just been granted a reprieve from dancing with Lady Jersey’s niece, who has twice my feet and half my sense of rhythm. And I find myself in dire need of a partner who can actually count to three. Lady Cassandra, would you do me the honor?”
Cassie’s face lit up. “Really?” she asked, her voice rising with excitement. “You want to dance with me?”
“I insist on it,” James said gravely. “The fate of my evening—nay, my entire social standing—hangs in the balance. Without your assistance, I shall be forced to stand in the corner wearing a sign that reads ‘Social Failure.’”
Cassie giggled. “There’s no such thing.”
“I assure you, there is. My mother had one made after my disastrous performance at Lady Ashford’s musicale. ‘My Son Cannot Tell a Minuet from a Mousetrap,’ it read. Most humiliating.”
That coaxed a laugh from the entire group, even the ladies, who seemed torn between amusement and the suspicion that they were the butt of some private joke.
“Well,” Cassie said, slipping her hand into James’s with the easy confidence of a child who had never been taught to doubt her welcome, “we can’t have that. Miss Norton says it’s important to help others whenever we can.” She turned to Augusta. “May I, please? Just one dance?”
Augusta nodded, unable to keep from smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Of course. But remember your promise: one dance, then bed.”
“One dance,” Cassie agreed. “I’ll be the best-behaved partner in the entire ballroom. You’ll see.”
James bowed with a flourish. “Shall we, My Lady?”
They moved away together, Cassie’s hand tucked confidently into his elbow, her head tilted back as she listened to whatever outrageous story he was telling her.
Augusta watched them go, a strange ache forming beneath her ribs.
“Enjoy your dance, Your Grace,” she said, stepping back. “I believe Lady Cecilia is waiting.”
She retreated to her position by the wall as she tracked Cassie’s progress across the dance floor. The girl was radiant as James led her through the steps of a country dance, his movements deliberately exaggerated to make her laugh.
