“Robert,” he called out sharply, knowing his valet would not have gone far. “Come back in here.”
Moments later, he was fully prepared, dressed, and had picked thesilver cravat. Something about it called to him, and Robert had it tied meticulously. Graham and Owen descended down the grand staircase in Blackthorn House. Waiting in the foyer was his mother and sister, both of them smiling at him hesitantly, as if they were unsure of his mood.
A pang of guilt hit him, and he realized all over again how much he was expected to uphold his duties, insecurities aside.
“Mother,” Graham said, nodding at the Dowager Duchess, Felicity Randall. He turned to Lady Daphne. “Sister. You are both looking beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you!” Daphne gushed, beaming. “It is my second Season, after all. I must give a very good impression if I am to find a match.”
Graham frowned at her. “You are the sister of a duke. The daughter of the late Duke of Blackthorn. Any eligible gentleman attending tonight will be most fortunate to have you as their dance partner.”
Daphne blushed, smiling. “Are you excited, brother?”
“No,” he answered, no longer having the focus on her so his words were more clipped.
“Oh, but youmustbe!” she exclaimed. Her blonde curls bounced with excitement, and the pink spread over her cheeks, paired with the wide look in her sparkling blue eyes, made her look younger than her nineteen years. Nobody would ever guess they were siblings, as she took after their mother. Graham, often seen as the visual mark of the family, took after his late grandfather. “It will be ever so wonderful! Aunt Victoria always has splendid balls organised.”
“Enjoying a ball is wholly impossible,” he told her dryly.
His mother cleared her throat, stepping forward. Her blue eyes softened as she beheld him. “You look very handsome, Graham. Your father would be proud.”
“My father would advise me to retreat posthaste and make my escape with all due speed.”
“Your father knew the importance of finding your duchess,” she reminded him gently. “I do hope that is on your mind tonight.”
He only sighed, avoiding the question. Felicity clasped his jacket before smoothing out a wrinkle he knew was not there, but it was her motherly way that caught him off-guard. He blinked, his sourness softening with her own expression. He swallowed back his guilt before moving away from her.
“Well, then,” he said, gesturing for the door. “Shall we?”
CHAPTER TWO
Lady Victoria had decorated Smith Manor in lavish colors of lavender and cream, the theme spilling out from flowers in vases, through petals lining the staircase to the house, to the emblem of the Smith name painted on the stone floor in the entrance hall.
Through the hallway, more decorated Grecian columns led the way down another hallway, to the open ballroom doors. Music spilled out, a gentle symphony of violins and cellos, and a lively flute that coaxed Amelia’s attention despite her nerves.
Stood atop the entry dais, Amelia looked down into the ballroom, her mother beside her.
“I am nervous,” she whispered to her father, Edward, Baron of Hawthorne.
“Do not show it, and you shall be fine.” His voice was firm yet comforting.
But Amelia had already spotted a secluded corner in the far right of the ballroom, not too far from the open doors that led onto a terrace, and the garden beyond. The room came alive in swirls of color, for guests were not obliged to honor the theme. Lady Victoria’s balls were notorious for rule-breaking.
Amelia was in silver, yet blended in easily. It was not that she did not want to be noticed; it was more that she was never quite noticed, not in the face of other prettier, louder, more forward ladies. So to attempt to sway attention from them to herself was rather laughable. She did not want to look foolish.
Yet, as she descended her way into the ballroom, she thought that there had to be one quiet gentleman who would stand with her in any corner of a ball, not wanting the attention of the ton on them at all moments.
Her eyes were wide. Lady Victoria had truly outdone herself for tonight’s ball.
“It seems that every time Lady Victoria hosts, she goes all out and exceeds expectations,” her father observed, as if reading her thoughts. Yet he, too, looked around, admiring their surroundings. Behind them, Bernadette walked, no doubt thinking of how she might include some of their opulent surroundings into her next ball.
“It seems so,” Amelia answered. She knew her father was giving hera chance to find small talk to discuss with suitors. He did this every time. He picked one topic, and Amelia knew it was a helping hand of what to use to incite conversation. It was clever but unnecessary. Amelia continued to disappoint.
Around her, prominent members of the ton danced, drank, gossiped, and watched others with keen, narrowed gazes. Nobody looked at Amelia herself yet she felt the weight of the impending stares as people passed her when she cowered away, as if questioning why. It was strange—they questioned why she hid but nobody ever welcomed her closer.
“Amelia,” her father murmured, as she tightened her grip on his arm, “I know it has been… difficult for you to find a match. However, this is your third Season. I do hope you are planning to find new, impressive ways to secure a husband.”
“Yes, Father,” she answered, not because she was but because he needed to hear that.
