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It hardly looked as if Venetia were going to leave Lady Indigo’s employ anytime soon.
“Come, Venetia. We must go.”
Venetia offered the old lady her arm and turned toward the door. She was twenty-three years old. Lady Indigo was more robust than she liked people to think. How many more years would Venetia be at her beck and call, squiring her wherever she wished to go, reading to her upon a whim, being woken in the middle of the night to fetch her a warm posset when she couldn’t sleep?
Tonight, she would no doubt see Sebastian. She would feel the same longing to be with him.
As he no doubt felt toward her.
But what could she say to him when an unborn child, whom he claimed he might have fathered, stood between them?
***
Her heart nearly failed her at the entrance to the grand saloon. She hesitated as Lady Indigo spoke with someone. Soon the doors would open, and Venetia would be exposed to the gathering at large. In one respect, she felt a great deal more up to the task dressed as she was.
On the other, she was used to being inconspicuous.
“Miss Stone. What a beauty you are tonight!”
Venetia turned to see Sebastian’s father regarding her through his monocle. Beside him, imbibing a glass of sherry, was a stately gentleman with a cadaverous face and a steely expression.
“I’ve known this gel since she was in short skirts,” said old Mr Wells, having introduced Venetia to Miss Reeves’s father. “The daughter of my bailiff, and hiding here, unknown to me until yesterday, as companion to Lady Indigo.” He paused significantly, saying in a more pointed tone to his old friend. “My Sebastian was fond of her, too. I think I’ll find my boy and tell him to come over here. The lad is duty-bound to stand up with you after all this time.” He cleared his throat. “And you, Thomas, will be looking for your daughter.”
But Venetia had no desire to see Sebastian. She couldn’t face him in this company. So she made her excuses to go and find Libby.
It had been many years since she’d last seen Sebastian’s sister, who had been a friend and ally during the days she’d hoped to marry Sebastian.
Beside Libby stood a sweet-faced gentleman with light curling hair, and a slightly myopic expression whom Venetia recognized vaguely as Mr Henry Clayton, confirmed when her friend introduced him to her, adding, “You look so beautiful, Venetia. And Sebastian is over there. I know how he’s missed you. Now that he’s free again, you will make him so happy. And even if Papa is against it, he can’t dictate to Sebastian anymore.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Though he will no doubt try to do so in my case.”
A troubled frown crossed Mr Clayton’s handsome face as he took Libby’s gloved hand and caressed it. “I wish only the best for Libby,” he said, anxiously, “and hope also that I might be that for her. But I also do not want to be the cause of a rift with her father. I am not the catch she could hope for.” He looked suddenly much younger and more nervous. “But I love her dearly—”
“And that’s enough for me,” Libby declared with energy.
Venetia smiled at them both. “I hope very much that your father will be motivated by what’s good for you,” she said.
“And you, Venetia,” Libby said, disengaging her hands to take Venetia’s, her face shining. “Sebastian has never stopped loving you, you know. And now...at last!…there’s nothing standing in the way of you two being together.”
**
Meanwhile, Sebastian was having a troubling time convincing Miss Reeves that an elopement with the dancing tutor would be in no one’s interests.
He’d found the young lady dabbing at her eyes in the conservatory on his way to the ball and felt duty-bound to offer assistance, escorting her to the ballroom where they’d found an out-of-the-way corner to talk.
When Miss Reeves declared with surprising defiance that she planned to suggest to Signor Boticelli that an elopement might be their only means of achieving their aims, he was more than concerned. Elopement was the most extrem
e of measures. Even he and Venetia had ruled out the option after taking into account the deleterious effects on their family.
While he wished he was free to find Venetia so he could ask her to dance and, hopefully, soften her feelings toward him, he felt his first duty was to persuade Miss Reeves not to seek out Signor Boticelli right there and then in order to put to him the idea of eloping with him this very night.
He was now following up his reasoning in the shadows.
“I know you’ve known him four months but—”
“Our connection is as strong as ever!” she snapped, interrupting him.
“With all due respect, Miss Reeves, I do not believe you could have sufficiently ascertained the character of Signor Boticelli in four months when your acquaintance has been based on intermittent communication,” he said. “Your father is here tonight, and while you have every right to reject the alliance he proposes with Lord Yarrowby, it would be unwise in the extreme, I venture to suggest, to follow your heart on the impulses you feel. Has Signor Boticelli convinced you that he would be a good husband? How will he keep you? Where would you live?”
“Roberto is the truest of men!” she declared hotly. “He would lay down his life for me.”
