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Olivia felt a sharp pang of displeasure. How insufferably rude he was to not even acknowledge her with a nod of his head! It took all her willpower not to stop dancing and stamp her foot in pure petulance. Bertie was glancing at her warily, looking concerned.
“You have gone awfully red, Olivia,” he whispered. “You look rather like steam might come out of your nose at any moment. What on earth is the matter?”
“Nothing,” she declared, tossing her head back. “Nothing is the matter at all, Bertie. I am enjoying the dance very much.”
But it was a lie. She was not enjoying it at all. Suddenly, she could not even pretend any longer. She let her hand drop, standing still.
Mercifully, the dance ended. She knew they were supposed to dance again but she just could not do it. Not with Captain Fletcher and Lydia Grantham carrying on like they were.
“I need to sit down, Bertie,” she said. “Just for a moment.”
Bertie nodded, accompanying her off the dance floor. She could not help glancing back at the Captain and the lady. They were still utterly absorbed in each other and looked like they had not noticed her departure at all.
Bertie squired her to a chair, saying he would find her a glass of lemonade. As he walked off, she fanned herself vigorously, unable to take her eyes off the Captain and Lydia. The next dance was coming to an end, now. The orchestra played the last notes.
The dance partners stepped away from each other, clapping politely. All except Captain Fletcher and the lady. He still had his arm around her waist and her hand in his hand. They were gazing at each other as if they had no idea it had finished at all.
Olivia stood up abruptly. It was such a crass display, and she could not endure another moment of it. Quickly she walked away, bumping into Bertie, who held two glasses of lemonade.
“There you are,” he said, handing her a glass. “I thought you needed to rest.”
Olivia drank the lemonade in almost one gulp. “I am refreshed. Shall we take a turn around the gardens? It is such a fine evening.” Anything to get out of this room and the tawdry display on the dancefloor.
The breeze was cool upon her face as they walked silently through the gardens. When they were out of sight of the house Bertie took her hand, pulling her against a tree.
“Did I tell you how exquisite you look this evening?” he murmured.
Olivia forced a smile onto her face, trying to pay attention to her suitor. But all she could think about was the Captain and Lydia Grantham. It was most annoying.
“Thank you, Bertie,” she said.
He took her face in his hands, planting a kiss upon her mouth. Olivia kissed him back, trying to get him to open his mouth and deepen the kiss, but his lips remained resolutely closed. After only a brief moment he pulled back, looking well satisfied.
“We should return before anyone notices that we are missing,” he said. “Come along.”
Olivia took his arm, heading back to the house. She felt distressed and very disappointed. She wanted Bertie to kiss her properly, to make her dizzy with desire, and it just was not there at all. And the worst of it was she had kept comparing the kiss to how the Captain kissed her and knew it was lacking entirely.
Suddenly, she felt unbearably weary of it all. She just wanted to leave.
When they were back inside, she excused herself, finding Emma. Her friend was chatting with Lord Turnbury as always, looking entranced. Olivia had to cough discreetly to get her attention.
“I want to leave, Emma,” she said.
Her friend’s eyes widened. “You mean now? But we have only been here for an hour. The night is still so young.” She lowered her voice. “Lord Turnbury has filled my dance card for the evening, and I was so looking forward to it.”
Olivia sighed. “Very well. I shall find Mama and tell her that I am leaving and send the carriage back for you all.”
Emma frowned. “Is anything the matter, dearest? It is not like you to wish to leave so early. Especially when Lord Bertram is paying you so much attention.”
“I am just tired, Emma,” she said, in an abrupt voice. “I am sorry. I hope the night lives up to your expectations and I shall see you at home.”
She turned away, pushing through the crowd, seeking her mother. There was simply no way she could stay here. And she had noticed that Captain Fletcher and Lady Lydia Grantham had vanished, too. Her stomach churned. She could just imagine what they were doing together.
The man was a cad, through and through. He probably kissed a dozen ladies when he was at these balls. She was nothing special. He was just playing with her, as a cat does with a mouse. The fierce attraction she had imagined between them meant nothing to him. And her suitor did not seem to be attracted to her at all.
Suddenly, everything seemed utterly pointless. She did not know what on Earth she was doing. She must leave. This instant.
