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“We need assistance here!” someone called.
The tenuous moment of understanding between her and Stephen shattered. She craned her neck to see what had happened, but she was too short. “What’s wrong?”
Worry seeped into his expression. “I believe your mother has collapsed.”
“What?” Lynette’s heart sank into the toes of her slippers. “I must go.”
“I’ll find Miss Ridley. She’s Papa’s nurse and will know what to do.”
“Thank you.” Releasing his hand, she shot across the room, impolitely nudging people out of the way. Finally, the crowd parted enough for her to see the crumpled form of her mother on the floor, the black fabric of her gown making her seem much like a fallen crow. With a cry, Lynette rushed to her mother’s side. “What happened?” she asked one of the people already kneeling.
The man shook his head. “I didn’t see. One minute she was sitting on her chair. The next, she’d tumbled to the floor.”
She kneeled near her mother’s head and took one of her limp hands. “Mama, can you hear me?” But her mother’s eyes remained closed. A quick pat to her cold cheek didn’t bring about promising results either. Then Stephen joined her, and she uttered a half-sob half-sigh of gratitude. “I can’t revive her,” she told him, her heart in her throat.
Stephen didn’t waste time. “Let’s move her to a divan in one of the ladies retiring rooms and away from the crowds.” He bent and bundled her mother’s form into his arms, hefting her up. “Miss Ridley will join us there after she collects her medical bag from upstairs.”
“Oh, I hope there’s nothing seriously wrong with my mother,” Lynette whispered as she followed Stephen’s tall form through the crowd. In a thrice they exited the ballroom, went partially down a corridor and then into a smaller room decorated in soothing shades of mauve. No one occupied the room, so Stephen went directly to one of the sofas and laid her mother upon that piece of furniture. The dusky pink velvet proved a startling contrast to her mother’s black skirts. “Is she breathing?”
Stephen put his ear to her mother’s mouth. “Yes, as far as I can tell.”
“Let me examine her.”
Lynette glanced up as Miss Ridley came into the room, a worn brown leather bag in hand. Lord Hollingsworth followed on her heels, as did the Duchess of Whittington with identical expressions of concern. “Where is John?” She didn’t want her son to witness this scene in the event something horrible occurred.
The duchess put a hand on her shoulder. “My husband is keeping him occupied by plying him with sweets from the refreshment table.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Let’s see what we’re working with,” Miss Ridley murmured. She kneeled on the plush Aubusson carpeting and took one of Lynette’s mother’s hands in her own. Two fingers were pressed to the pulse point at her wrist. “Her heartbeat is strong.” Then she put an ear to the fallen woman’s chest. “Her breathing is regular, and the lungs are clear.”
Lynette rose to her feet. “Then why did she faint?”
“I’m not certain, but I think we should ask her.” Miss Ridley pulled a small glass vial from her bag and removed a cork. “These are smelling salts. They should bring her out of the faint rather quickly.”
As soon as the vapors trapped in the vial assailed her mother’s nose, she awakened, shaking her head and pushing away Miss Ridley’s hand.
“That’ll be enough of that, young woman.” Obviously, the health scare hadn’t curbed her acerbic attitude.
Lynette wilted where she stood, grateful for the support when Stephen slid an arm around her shoulders. “What happened, Mama?”
“I went down like a sack of oats.” She touched a hand to her chest. “My heart’s not as strong as it once was.”
Miss Ridley’s expression portrayed doubt as she put away the vial of smelling salts. Then she peered at Lynette’s mother with a grim set to her lips. “I don’t doubt that your collapse was real, Lady Ruddick. However, as to any legitimacy of illness, there is no evidence. Perhaps you had need of attention.” A certain amount of coolness hung from the words.
“What does this mean?” Lynette asked, darting her gaze between the women.
“Don’t you patronize me.” Her mother rose onto an elbow and glared. “If I tell you my heart is about to attack me, that’s so.”
Miss Ridley first met Lord Hollingsworth’s gaze with a telling glance then moved to catch Stephen’s eye. “I beg to differ, and I’m quite skilled in figuring out if someone’s heart is weak or it isn’t.” Slowly, she stood, returning her regard to Lynette’s mother. “In fact, I’m treating the duke for the same. So believe me when I say you are fibbing, Lady Ruddick.”
How could that be? Lynette perched on the side of the sofa. “Mama, is that true? Were you pretending to collapse?”
For long seconds silence brewed in the room. Continued gaiety from the party drifted from what seemed a long distance in direct contrast.
“All right, yes. It’s true. My faint was false.” Her mother’s cheeks took on a mottled red hue.
“Whyever would you do something like this?” Confusion pulsed through Lynette’s veins.
