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“Ask her to dance,” Simon’s mother hissed in his ear as he surveyed the busy ballroom at his best friend Nathan’s estate. Simon tried not to roll his eyes as his mother all but nudged him with her elbow under the cover of her giant, black ostrich fan. The subject of her fixation, Lady Henrietta, was on the other side of the room with a gaggle of ladies, giggling loudly and tossing her blonde curls.
“She looks very fine tonight, does she not?” his mother prompted, sipping her brandy.
“All the ladies do,” Simon deferred, and it was his mother’s turn to roll her eyes. Simon had to admit that Lady Henrietta looked fetching in a periwinkle blue gown that matched her eyes, but even so, she blended in with all of the other ladies she stood with. Their hair was all the same, their gowns the same sea of pastel colours.
“Don’t be objectionable, Simon,” his mother snapped.
Tired of being spoken to like a child, Simon finished off his own brandy and set it down on a tray. He spied Nathan circulating around the room, looking debonair and happy on this evening dedicated to celebrating his growing family. Despite his joy at his best friend’s success, Simon felt a pang of unwanted jealousy. If Stella had lived, if their child had survived, perhaps Simon would be revelling in a ball just like this. He caught his friend’s eye and immediately regretted his sour thoughts; Nathan looked so pleased that Simon’s envy evaporated.
“Excuse me, Mother,” he said, ignoring his mother’s angry hisses of displeasure and walking to meet Nathan by the windows. The two men embraced like brothers.
“I’m so glad you came,” Nathan laughed, clapping Simon’s shoulder. “How is your mother?”
“Oh she has great plans for me.” Simon rolled his eyes sardonically.
“Really?” Nathan wiggled his dark eyebrows humorously. “What are those?”
“She wants me to marry Lady Henrietta,” Simon sighed. “Or at least dance with her this evening.”
“I see.” Nathan turned to look over at Lady Henrietta. Her reputation was well known to men like Nathan who moved in the high circles of society.
“Well, I can tell you my wife thinks not much of her,” Nathan sighed, turning back around to face Simon.
“Oh?” Simon was interested in Eleanor’s opinion. She was an intelligent woman to have won his best friend’s heart, and did not generally dislike other people. She must have a good reason.
“I fear Lady Henrietta might have been gossiping about my wife.” Nathan frowned. “Eleanor mentioned it earlier this evening, about feeling self-conscious in front of her.”
“I’m surprised Eleanor should feel self-conscious. She is a confident woman,” Simon said.
“Having children is life-changing, Simon.” Nathan smiled suddenly, a gleam of his old, boyish grin in his manly face. “It’s only natural a mother should feel self-conscious in her new role, her new body. I too, feel it. Alongside the sense of pride and new completion.”
Nathan drifted off, his eyes misting. Simon smiled and nudged him, bringing his friend back to the present.
“What I mean to say is that whilst I am not sure Lady Henrietta is the best choice, I do think you should turn your mind to marriage.” Nathan laughed, smiling sheepishly.
“Well, you and my mother are agreed upon that front, at least, though I am certainly not as sure.” Simon sighed.
“Would you not like to remarry?” Nathan asked, prompting his friend gently. “I have found marriage to be a most beneficial state.”
Simon saw the way Nathan’s eyes were naturally drawn across the room to where Eleanor stood. She looked very fetching this evening— becoming a mother had given her a rounded look of joy and satisfaction, and her peach gown flattered her perfectly.
“That is because you are married,” Simon said.
“Well, perhaps someone will catch your eye.”
“I doubt it.”
It was a little bit of a lie, really, because the woman standing beside Eleanor had already caught Simon’s eye. He saw perfect dark hair, waved into a crown with pieces falling over her bare shoulders. Her dress was stunning in a unique way he hadn’t seen before. Red as blood and low cut, with thin straps that bared her naked shoulders so they were golden and glowing, but then covered her arms all the way down to her slim wrists. He imagined dancing with such a woman, brushing his hands over those bare shoulders, maybe taking such a woman into the garden and pressing those shoulders against the wall for fevered kisses.
As Simon got lost in his fantasies, the woman turned and he recognised her. It was Marion Laurie, Eleanor’s best friend and nursemaid to his own best friend’s children. Simon gulped, flushing and ashamed of his lewd thoughts. Still, he found his eyes wandering back toward her even as he forced himself not to stare. Then he noticed his mother and Lady Henrietta marching toward him, whispering behind their fans and eyeing him beadily.
“Oh Lord,” Simon sighed. “I fear I am about to be caroused into something.”
“I fear you might be,” Nathan snorted into his champagne glass. “Bear it like a man, my friend.”
“I always do.”
Simon plastered a polite smile on his face as his mother came near.
