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The music began in earnest and the dance alongside it. James’s focus was commendable. I could only imagine how deeply he wanted to avoid the need to catch me and carry me from the room. I desired to avoid that very same thing.
My heart kept pace with my concern, ticking up rapidly as we danced. When my gaze strayed from my husband, the beady, watchful eyes of the spectators stabbed me with their persistent ogling. My stomach swooped, twirling alongside my nerves, and my breathing progressed at a faster speed than the dance warranted.
“Liss?” James asked when he neared me for a moment. Had he noticed the green pallor of my cheeks, or was that merely how I felt and not how I appeared? I grew dizzy, my heart pounding so hard it rushed past my ears and blocked most of the music. I turned the wrong direction and stepped on the hem of another lady’s gown, and panic gripped me.
It was happening. The black sparkles pricked the edges of my vision and moved inward, my head light and stomach heavy. I searched for James, wishing I would not hit my head if I was to fall. His hand closed around mine and pulled me from the dance floor, making our way swiftly to the smaller parlor that we had yet to visit tonight. We passed groups of people, though I could not focus my eyes enough to recognize any faces.
James led me to a small group of chairs against the far wall and helped me sit. “I will find a glass of lemonade if you think you can remain upright.”
“Stay,” I said, so quietly I was afraid he had not heard me.
James sat beside me at once, his hand over mine, his fingers unable to remain still on my skin. But his nervous fluttering was soothing. I wanted more than anything for his tight embrace, for his connection to seep the nerves from my limbs as he had during our ride so many weeks ago, but I could not ask it of him in this public place.
I settled for appreciating his touch and allowing my eyes to drift closed until the nausea receded.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
James squeezed my fingers in reply. I opened my eyes again to find Lady Edith standing in the open doorway, speaking to another woman, her beady eyes on me. And she did not look well pleased.
