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Chapter 10
That evening, there was a ball hosted by Viscount Thornbridge. The ballroom was awash in light from tall white three-hour candles, and the space was decorated with pale white streamers and large vases, filled with fresh flowers from the garden. Lucy and Aunt Joan walked in together.
The room seemed almost enchanted, in the way that the light flickered over the jewels and silks that the guests wore. Lucy found her gaze caught by many things. She looked around, taking in as much as she possibly could.
The soft fabric of Lucy’s dress swished around her legs. She was dressed in her finest muslin, which had pale blue and cream stripes and was edged in French lace. The golden filigree locket which had belonged to her mother hung on a black ribbon tied around her neck, and her hair was pulled back into a bun, with ringlets framing her face.
The only problem was the way her brand-new dancing slippers pinched at her toes.
“Oh!” Aunt Joan gasped. “How Amelia would have loved to see this.” Aunt Joan was wearing a simple grey muslin with a drop-pearl pendant on a blue ribbon at her neck. Her hands were clasped in front of her.
Lucy beamed. She knew Aunt Joan was having the time of her life. She wouldn’t have denied her this for the world, yet she still regretted coming. She chafed at the thought of spending the whole night being paraded about like a prize pony. It had been a long time since she’d last been at a ball, and she hadn’t missed it one bit.
The last time, it had been with Edward. She had clasped his arm, her eyes taking in his fine profile. She had been in love, whilehe—Lucy cringed, then banished him from her mind. Not only did she not want to think of him, she also didn’t want to worry about being asked to dance. If she stuck by Aunt Joan, then maybe she wouldn’t have to spend the evening making polite conversation with a gentleman whom she barely knew.
“I’m so glad that we’ve come,” Aunt Joan said, touching her gently on the arm.
“Me too.”
“I’m going to go and speak with Lady Baldwin,” Aunt Joan told her. “I must compliment her on her gown!”
Lucy watched as her aunt went over to a lady that they had made the acquaintance of earlier that day. She was wearing a fine black and white striped silk gown that was, in fact, very nice.
Lucy glanced around, seeing that everyone was dressed in their finery. If she could, she would melt into the beautiful tapestry that was just behind her. She glanced at it, finding that it was a late medieval thing with a forest woven into it.
Lucy turned back to the crowd. Dinah was off to the side, looking like an angel in her white silk gown. She was talking animatedly with Lord Browning. The two of them were smiling at each other in a manner that was positively telling. Lucy was happy for her new friend. Lord Browning was certainly handsome, though Lucy had yet to speak with him.
“Miss Wilds!” Lord Thornbridge called out to her. She turned, finding that the viscount was walking over to her, making his way through groups of people. He was dressed in a dark red frock coat and cream-coloured breeches. The candlelight gleamed on his boots. He bowed to her gallantly, and she curtsied to him.
He looked like an older version of his son—Mr Silas Sweet. His black hair was shot through with silver, and his face was deeply lined. Lucy imagined that Silas would be his twin in a few decades.
“How is your evening going, Miss Wilds?” he asked kindly.
“It’s going very well, My Lord,” she said. “Thank you so much for inviting us. It was very kind of you to include my aunt and myself.” She was quickly running out of pleasantries and hoped that he would have to move on soon, to talk to his other guests.
“I was happy to do so. Your aunt was a particular friend of my late wife,” he said. “She valued Joan’s friendship greatly. To own the truth, she has been writing to me ever since my wife’s untimely passing, and she has proved to be a great comfort in my grief.”
Both of them looked to where Aunt Joan and Lady Baldwin were talking.
“In her last letter to me, she said that you were a reader,” Lord Thornbridge said. His eyes seemed watery, and he sniffed.
Lucy presumed that he wouldn’t approve, yet she was determined to prove to him that it was not something to be ashamed of. “I am,” she confirmed, steeling herself for the disagreement that was to come.
“I admire a woman who has intellectual inclinations,” he said, to her surprise. “My son, Silas, is unmarried. He is looking for a woman who has both intelligence and wit.” He winked. “I think you could convince him that you would be able to keep him on his toes.” He beamed at her, though it was artless. He meant it kindly, as a father who wants the best for his son.
Lucy’s face burned bright red. She had been having conflicted thoughts about him all day. She recalled the soft touch of his lips, the way his scruffy beard had rubbed against her chin.
“Oh, um…” she muttered, wondering how best to make her escape. The viscount was grinning at her. She knew she was trying to be kind, but… She wasn’t able to complete the thought.
“Are you talking of me, Father?” Silas asked from behind Lucy, who froze, horrified. She didn’t dare look at him, for she knew that her thoughts would be apparent if she did. He saw her far too clearly for her comfort, and it caused her to go into a state of complete panic.
“Miss Wilds is looking for a dance partner,” Lord Thornbridge said, winking again at Lucy, who blushed even more deeply as she finally turned to face Mr Sweet. He was smiling from ear to ear.
I wonder if they planned this, she thought.
“Ah! I would be delighted. If you would do me the honour, Miss Wilds?” He offered his arm to her, every inch the perfect gentleman. Though, she knew the real Silas Sweet—she had met him in the library.
“Of course,” she murmured.I suppose this is what dancing’s all about—being uncomfortable around perfect strangers.Except, he wasn’t a stranger. They had kissed, late in the night. That brought him somehow closer, made him less of an unknown.
