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“I’m afraid Wincanton won’t be joining us tonight. He’s just s
ent a note saying he’s been detained. He’ll meet us at the ball if he can manage to get away.”
It was with the greatest effort that she kept her face passive. “I hope it’s not anything too serious.” She looked around again. “Where is Caroline?”
“Here,” said her friend from the top of the stairs. “I went to find you a moment ago to ask your opinion, but you’d already gone.” She descended and turned, showing the beautifully draped back of her new gown. The pale azure silk complemented her vibrant coloring perfectly.
“You are an absolute vision,” Eleanor told her, smiling. “You’ll be the toast of the Season, Caroline. I just know it.”
“I think you both look lovely,” said Rowena, joining her husband. “Come, it is time we were on our way.”
Eleanor was relieved to see she looked as if their conversation of a moment ago had never happened. Her spirits rose an increment. With Sorin otherwise occupied tonight, she would at least have a chance to regroup.
I cannot stay in Somerset if he weds another. Perhaps I can find a dedicated spinster to serve as my companion. I’ll buy a nice cottage for us to live in—in another county… It would mean being far removed from her loved ones and her childhood home—everything familiar would be lost, but it was the only viable option.
Almost as soon as the carriage began to move, Rowena propped herself against a cushion in the corner and closed her eyes tightly. Eleanor hoped she would last the night. Charles, thankfully, seemed totally absorbed by the view from his window.
“I’m hoping Penwaithe will notice me this evening,” whispered Caroline as they wended their way through London. “I wore my hair this way just to catch his eye.”
“I wondered why it was up like that,” Eleanor whispered back, eyeing the arrangement. Rather than the profusion of fiery curls that were Caroline’s hallmark, she wore her hair in a high coronet, every strand tamed into submission by pearl pins. “You look very regal.”
“That was my intent,” said her friend, eyes sparkling with excitement. Taking up her fan, she opened it and held it up between them and Charles. “He made such a fuss over a statue of Athena we saw in the gardens during the picnic.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering so that it was barely audible over the noise of wheels against cobblestones. “I said in jest that she must not have had red hair, and he replied that indeed he could not imagine a goddess like Athena with such hair as mine, so tonight I shall prove him wrong.” She giggled softly. “He said the only goddess likely to have hair like mine would be Aphrodite rising from the sea. A promising comment, would you not agree?”
Certainly—if one were seeking an illicit affair! Calming herself, Eleanor leaned even closer so there would be no chance of Charles overhearing her. “Caroline, I know you won’t like what I’m going to say—I can see you frowning already—but as your friend I must speak honestly. Such a comment was nothing short of an indecent proposal. Any man who would compare you to a deity known for debauched behavior is obviously lacking in respect for you.”
As anticipated, Caroline’s lips thinned, her delight exchanged for hot wrath. “You would make every comment from a man mean something lewd!” she hissed. “He made a jest, Eleanor! Nothing more. I wore my hair this way tonight merely to let him know that I was paying attention and to further the rapport between us. The man has a sense of humor, and now he will see that I do as well—unlike some people!” Snapping her fan shut, she leaned back against the squabs and folded her arms.
Now it was Eleanor’s turn to open her fan and use it as a screen. “I stand firm in my opinion,” she insisted quietly, ignoring the barb. “By playing to his ‘jest’ as you call it, you might very well send him the wrong message. You don’t want him to think you’re willing to engage in improper behavior!”
But Caroline’s expression remained recalcitrant. “You presume that I’m too ignorant to know when a man has lascivious intentions,” she whispered back. “I can assure you I’m not. As it is with you, this is not my first Season.” Her anger faded into hurt. “Why can you never simply trust me?”
Guilt slithered into Eleanor’s heart. “You are one of my closest friends. If I’m overly protective, it is simply because I cannot stop worrying that someone will hurt you, the thought of which causes me great pain. Just…be careful with him. Please?” She glanced at Rowena, who was still slumped in the corner with her eyes shut. Bending, she murmured directly into Caroline’s ear. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Rowena has not been well of late.”
“I have indeed,” replied Caroline in just as quiet a voice. “Is she…?”
Eleanor nodded. “And she needs no additional burdens to worry her,” she added pointedly.
The light of battle died in Caroline’s eyes. “I will give her none.”
Glancing across the carriage at her cousin, Eleanor realized he was peering at them with curious eyes. Snapping her fan shut, she offered him a quick and, she hoped, reassuring smile.
No excitement stirred in her breast when their carriage arrived at its destination. This was the first real ball of the Season, and she ought to have at least a tiny thrill of joy at the prospect of dancing. But without Sorin to dance with, there was no charm in it. No matter who she partnered with, she knew she’d only imagine and wish that it was him.
I love him. Over and over, the three words repeated in her mind. Is this what being in love is like? Every tragic poem she’d ever read on the subject of romance came flooding back. She’d hoped to spare Sorin such cruelty, and now she was caught in its nets herself.
She waited half an hour, but still he failed to appear. Finally, and only because Rowena was giving her “the look,” she allowed Marston to partner her in a quadrille after which she was fair game for the other gentlemen who’d been hanging about. Her dance card was filling with alarming speed. Taking a moment in the powder room, she wrote false names in the few remaining empty spaces left later that evening just in case Sorin showed up.
Why am I even bothering? Yet she continued to write.
Back into the fray. After nearly an hour without pause she scurried, head down, off the ballroom floor to sit out the next dance somewhere quiet.
Just as she approached the safety of the stairs, she heard a familiar voice and looked up. Dread filled her at the sight of Yarborough with his head tilted back in laughter. She altered course before he could spot her, but then spied his mother heading toward her from the opposite direction. It was stand and be pinned down or hide. She took the better part of valor and ducked behind a potted tree, praying she’d not been noticed by either of them. After a moment, she risked a peek.
“I was hoping to find you before the next dance.”
She nearly screamed in fright, only just catching herself in time to release her breath in a more dignified manner. Turning, she faced Sorin with as pleasant an expression as she could muster, given her mortification over having been found crouched behind an ornament. “Lord Wincanton. I’m so glad to see you were able to join the festivities.”
“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” His brows knit. “Whom are you trying to avoid?”
