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“The skill of the dancer does not necessarily match the merit of the dance,” she confessed, bending her head forward over the gown. “I think the best dance I have ever had, my partner was hardly spectacular in skill, but I loved it all the same. I do not think I have laughed so much in a dance.”
“Who was the partner?” Rosaline asked, returning to her dancing. This time, she took up Marianne in her arms, and the two of them danced together.
“Oh . . . it does not matter.” Chloe kept her head bent forward, not wanting to lift her head and reveal her blush at the mention of the gentleman.
I have not seen him for a while. Perhaps we are to live different lives.
The mere thought made Chloe’s stomach writhe, as if it had an asp inside. There had been a time when she and this gentleman lived in and out of each other’s pockets, but that was before his sister had married the Duke of Suffolk. Now, Chloe barely saw the gentleman at all.
“Perhaps this mysterious gentleman will be at the ball,” Elizabeth said as she presented Chloe with a few more beads to add to the neckline of the gown.
“Hmm.” Chloe got to work on finishing with the beads, trying to offer a noncommittal answer.
“Who else is to attend?” Marianne called from where she danced with Rosaline.
“You are shouting, Marianne,” Chloe said with a snigger.
“That is because Rosaline is humming a tune so loudly in my ear, I can barely hear myself!” Marianne was twirled so madly around by Rosaline that she nearly collided with a table.
“Elizabeth, would you catch Marianne for me before we have a disaster?” Chloe asked with a smirk.
“I’m on it.” Elizabeth was already off, but she didn’t get far, before Rosaline grabbed her hands and led her into another dance. “This was not part of my plan, Rosaline.”
“Oh, dance with me a short while.” Rosaline directed their path around the room, humming a familiar tune.
Chloe fell still.
I know that music.
It was the very song that had been played by the violinists at Maeve’s and the Duke of Suffolk’s wedding. There, as the music rang out across the ballroom, Chloe had danced with the gentleman she missed so much.
I have barely seen him as of late . . . why is it that I think so much about him?
Yet she did, regardless. In her weakness, she thought of the way his hand had touched hers as they had danced together and the gentleness of his fingers. She thought of his smile too, so broad that she couldn’t help joining in with his laughter. Then she thought of the way he had tripped over his own feet, and she had caught him, stopping him from falling flat on his face.
“Who else is to attend the ball then?” Rosaline called to Chloe as she danced. “Will the Duchess’ brother be there?”
“Ow!” Chloe stabbed herself with the needle. Having drawn blood, she had to snatch her hand away from the gown. Merely a second later, Marianne was at her side, offering a handkerchief. “Thank you. It seems I cannot remember how to use a thimble today.” Chloe tried to shrug off what she had done, but she did not miss the way Rosaline watched her from where she danced, a look of curiosity arching her red eyebrows. “Yes, I believe the Duchess’ brother will be there.”
“The future Earl of Nightburn?” Marianna asked excitedly.
“Yes. Lord Felton.” Chloe bent her head forward another time, hiding the mad blush she was certain had now overtaken her cheeks completely, until she was the color of the very bead of blood that had dripped from her fingertip.
Lord Felton . . .
Chloe couldn’t help thinking of the last time she had seen him. He had come to see his sister and nephew, and played with the boy for hours outside, much to young Nathan’s glee. Nathan had guffawed with laughter every time his uncle had fallen in the grass. The mere memory of how Lord Felton had laughed himself, then shot a smile Chloe’s way made her hands weak around the gown.
No. It is merely in my mind. He never saw me as anything other than his sister’s friend and a rather bad influence at that.
She could still remember how furious Lord Felton had been with her the day he discovered she had made Maeve a suit in order to visit a writer’s group dressed as a man. Lord Felton had not given Chloe smiles that day. The thought of his grimace and frown still left a tremble to her hands as she sewed on the last pearl.
“What is he like?” Rosaline asked, abandoning her dance with Elizabeth. Poor Elizabeth tottered on her feet, so dizzy she had to clasp a wooden pillar beside her to stop from falling. Rosaline hurried to Chloe’s side as she held up the gown.
“Lord Felton?” Chloe did her best to sound uninterested, almost nonchalant. “He is a kind man and a hard worker. He is a trained lawyer, of course, and works extensively with the Duke. He is a funny man, too. I dare you to find anyone with half so good a sense of humor. Oh, and he has this skill for always making me laugh, come what may.” Chloe realized she had begun to prattle, going on at length about Lord Felton, yet the words kept on coming. “He is certainly clumsy, but it is invariably charming, and he knows how to laugh at himself too. He’s loyal to his friends, loving to his family, and he . . .”
Chloe faltered. She lowered the gown in her grasp as she looked around at the seamstresses. They were all staring at her with curious gazes.
“You sound rather fond of Lord Felton,” Rosaline said, bringing smiles to the other seamstresses’ faces.
