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“It is an easy position when the woman in question hardly wishes to go out and already knows who she wants to marry. I do not think I would be such a good candidate for the position of chaperoning a woman who desired to attend every ball and meet every gentleman of theton.”
“Do not underestimate yourself. I am not easy to manage, and you have done so splendidly.”
She shot me a smile from the side, and we descended the stairs to take our places at the entrance to the drawing room. The splendor was no less for the smaller guest list. The rugs had been rolled up and removed, the furniture pushed aside to create room for dancing. A string quartet James had hired for the evening was now tuning their instruments on the far side of the room. The chandelier was lit with rows of candles, and even more flames lined the mantel and tables, their light thrown through the room with help from the mirrors behind them. It was a ball to be proud of and a lovely backdrop for what I intended to do this evening.
It had been just over two weeks since Benedict had walked away from me, and each day felt more and more like my heart was being ripped from my chest, mishandled, then put back. My behavior that night had been childish and abhorrent, and while I did think I was justified in my insecurities, I could no longer allow such justification to hold after the light Mrs. Danvers had shed on my father’s true character.
Whether or not my mother was aware of Mrs. Danvers, or the other women Father had been with, was irrelevant. I could not allow my parents’ past mistakes to rule my life, and neither of them were blameless.
I could, however, chart my own future.
“You are certain Benedict received an invitation?” I whispered.
“Yes, Thea, for the twentieth time, hedidreceive his invitation, and hedidreply favorably.” She squeezed my hand. “He will be here.”
Guests started to arrive at the top of the hour, and within thirty minutes the drawing room was mostly full. We were about to abandon our post when Lord Claverley started up the stairs toward us, and I exchanged a look with Felicity. James, who had taken his place beside his wife, now stepped forward a little, and I was glad to have such a stalwart chaperone.
“You are stunning this evening, my pet,” Lord Claverley said, bowing over my hand. He pressed a wet kiss to my knuckles as I repressed a shudder.
“Lady Claverley does not join you this evening?” I asked, disentangling my hand.
“She was unable to leave the children.”
“Of course, my lord,” Felicity said. “We do know how she dotes on them.”
“Quite.”
Another set of footsteps mounted the stairs, and my heart sped in anticipation for the gentleman I had been hoping to see all evening.
“Might I humbly beg for the first set, Miss Northcott?” the earl asked.
Thefirst? Surely he was aware that it held great importance, especially at my own ball. But the man I had hoped to dance with had not yet arrived. Lord Claverley was an earl, of course, but that did not mean he was the man of most importance in my life. He was not even a member of my family.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, actually—”
Benedict appeared at the top of the stairs then, his steps sure and quick, his appearance stealing my words. He took Felicity’s hand first and kissed her knuckles with brotherly affection. “Sorry I am late. I had trouble finding a carriage.”
“It is no bother,” she said easily.
He turned to me, and my body flushed with the pleasure of being under his scrutiny, his blue eyes dark with some emotion I could not name.
“Actually,” Benedict said, bending over my hand, his gaze never leaving mine. “I believe the first set was promised to me.”
He bent his arm, and I placed my hand hesitantly on top of it. Tonight was not at all going to plan, but I was flexible and could still achieve my goal. It was hard, however, to focus with Benedict’s muscles clenching beneath my fingers.
Claverley sputtered in shocked dismay, but we ignored him.
We stepped into the ballroom and the first dances were announced. To start—a waltz. I looked over my shoulder and found Felicity grinning. That certainly hadn’t been in the plan, but I was glad of the change.
“I think my family is beginning a tradition of opening balls with waltzes,” Benedict said.
“Are you disappointed?” I asked, taking my place beside him.
He held my gaze. “Not in the least.”
The strings began, their music floating softly through the room like a caress, and we started our promenade. My heart reacted to being in Benedict’s presence as though it was a desert and he was water. His absence had felt dry and lifeless, and now I wanted to bask in his gaze.
“You did not have to come to my rescue, but I thank you anyway.”
