Page 7 of A Mismatch Made in London

I became aware of heavy breathing. As I gazed toward the windows and my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could just make out a standing figure silhouetted against the drapes.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the person moved. Then I realized it was two people, and they were kissing quite passionately.

“You are so handsome,” a breathy, feminine voice said.

“Don’t talk,” a male voice answered back.

I hurried out, my face burning as I practically ran down the hall. But where was I to go now? I reached the end of the hall and felt the tears spill from my eyes.

I covered my mouth to stifle any sound, horrified lest someone see me crying. If my country manners were offensive, my display of emotion would be even more appalling.

I had no handkerchief, so I flicked away the tears with my fingertips, taking deep breaths to force them to stop.

Why had I come here? These people were nothing like me. The gentlemen I was supposed to be attracting were laughing at me. How disappointed everyone would be in me—my aunt, my mother, my sisters. I was letting them all down.

As I took deep breaths and pushed these distressing thoughts away, I started to feel calmer. But I couldn’t help remembering what I’d seen—the couple kissing in the dark empty room. Had they seen my face? I certainly couldn’t see their faces, but I’d been next to the doorway, and when I opened it, the light from the hallway would have illuminated me.

My face grew hot again.

I did nothing wrong, I reminded myself. But I felt sick in my stomach anyway. There were so many things I didn’t know, having lived in the country all my life. Would everyone else have known that one should not enter dark rooms at a ball?

I’d never kissed anyone, except for my siblings on their cheeks or foreheads, or my mother on the cheek. But to hide in a dark room and kiss someone I wasn’t related to ... Was this something high society people did at balls and assemblies?

I wanted to go home.

“Are you well?”

I spun around to find a young woman who looked to be aboutmy age, gazing at me with so much compassion in her expression that I felt the tears flood my eyes again.

No, I couldn’t cry. It would be so improper.

I took in a deep breath, desperate to push the tears away. “I am well, I thank you.”

“Sometimes one simply must have a good cry to feel better, yes?” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“That is true, I think.”

“I wish I had a handkerchief to offer you. Shall I go fetch one?”

“No, no, I am well.” I patted my face with the back of my hand and forced myself not to sniff. Mother said it was very bad manners to sniff in public. Besides, it worked almost as well to hold my head high and breathe in deeply through my nose.

What a good thing it was that no one could hear my thoughts.

“I am Juliet Beaumont.”

“Amelia Moore. I’m here with my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Kendall. I’m afraid I don’t know anyone else here, and I’m feeling a bit out of place. I danced the first dance with a gentleman who was very ... well, I believe he was laughing at my ‘country manners.’ He made the assumption that I had a dozen brothers and sisters and called me ‘provincial.’”

“Oh, what a terrible lout.”

“I do have eleven brothers and sisters.”

“There is no shame in having a large family.”

“I believe he took issue with me saying that I couldn’t sleep my first night here because it was so noisy in London. I spoke too freely.”

“Since when is it wrong to be honest and express one’s opinion about London’s noise? No, you did not speak too freely. He is a boor, very uncivil and ungentlemanlike.”

How delightful she was. I should have paid more attention when she told me her name, for now I couldn’t remember it.