Graham leaned in closely. “I do not know if you can tell but my cousin is an endless thorn in my side that I only have the dishonour of enduring at these events. Otherwise, I am mercifully out of his space.”
Amelia stifled a laugh. “Did you truly ride into the wall because you did not know how to slow down?”
“No. I rode into the wall because a cousin of mine kept urging my horse on too hard when I was merely a boy learning to ride, so I did not entirely have control of the animal.” There was a twitch of annoyance on his face.
“I do hope you know how to stop one now,” Amelia teased.
“Indeed.”
“Lady Smith,” Percival spoke up, breaking through the din. “With so much lavender, you surely have traveled to Europe? A woman as worldly as yourself must have seen great cultures.”
“Oh, nephew, do not try to flatter me,” Lady Smith laughed. “I am too advanced in years to be influenced by my own affections.”
“Iamher favourite nephew, of course,” Percival drawled, cocking his head at Graham. “Is that not correct?”
“I would not know as I am not our aunt,” Graham answered tersely.
Around them, conversation swirled, dancing over their heads as wine was drank and courses were eaten, yet Graham could not take his attention off his cousin who seemed determined on dominating the entire room. He swallowed a mouthful of melancholy that lodged itself in his throat. There were many reasons why he avoided events like this, and his cousin was one of them. Pointedly, he looked at a pocket watch. From where she sat, his mother shook her head at him.
***
Lady Cassandra Kensington sat at the dining table in the Smith estate, her stomach tight with anger. She seethed so hard she could barely swallow the bite of food she had just placed on her tongue. Her eyes were fixed on the Duke of Blackthorn further down the table.
He sat with Miss Hawthorne, the drab, plain wallflower everybody passed by. Everybody did—so why had the duke given her his attention?
“There is a great number of eligible ladies present tonight,” Cassandra hissed to her best friend, Lady Beatrice Ashworth. “Why would His Grace chooseher? She is nothing but a mouse, scurrying through the feet of others to not be detected. I am surprised she even knew one dance step to the next. He must have led her well.”
“Cassandra,” Beatrice sighed. “Do not think too greatly of it. I am sure he has had to dance with one lady or another at other balls to save face.”
“He has never asked anybody, not since he came into his dukedom.” Her words were clipped.
“I am sure it means nothing.” Beatrice sighed as she looked at another couple. “Do you think Lord Owen looks rather happy talking to Lady Eleanor? I do not knowwhy. He dances with plenty of girls. Why do you suppose he has chosen her to sit next to?”
“I am indifferent to your trifling jealousies, Beatrice. You must assist me in capturing the attention of the Duke.”
“They do look rather deep in conversation, do they not? He keeps on leaning into her.”
“The Duke and Miss Hawthorne?”
“No, Lord Owen and Lady Eleanor.”
“Beatrice, I am in a most distressing predicament! For Heaven’s sake, Lord Owen is merely engaged in conversation with another young lady,as he is oft to do. The Duke has requested the pleasure of Miss Hawthorne’s company for the dance.”
“Lord Owen danced with Lady Eleanor,” Beatrice muttered. Cassandra huffed, turning her attention from her friend.
“You know, Beatrice, I have a belief that many times you only care about yourself.” Cassandra gave her a scowl. “It is an unbecoming trait of yours.”
Her friend spluttered but said nothing, only sighing as she continued eating.
***
By the time Lady Smith announced that it was time for the ladies to go to the drawing room, while the men would go to the billiards room, Amelia could not help but feel a rush of relief. Throughout the whole dinner, no matter how much she had tried to focus on Percival’s tales, she could not shake the sense of being watched. Yet whenever she had sought the source of it, there had been nobody looking her way.
In the open doorway of the dining hall, Amelia paused, looking back at the duke.
There was a sense of parting that settled deep within her—something that ached in a strange way she had not before experienced. Something that made her worry that if they parted now she would not see him again.
“Amelia?” Eleanor beckoned, already walking past her. With one last look at the duke, Amelia followed her friend from the dining room and down the hallway to the drawing room. There, the ladies gathered, immediately breaking off into their groups that Amelia always found amusing to watch. As a quiet lady at these events, she watched others intently. She knew that Lady Herald favored the friendship of Lady Twickenham because she thought that her favor would heighten in society if she was seen as her equal. She knew that Lady Johanna spoke loudly and falsely with Lady Morgan because she had danced with Lady Morgan’s brother, and found him an attractive match, and hoped to impress her potential sister-in-law.
