Page 14 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
She wanted to laugh, but then she spotted that Lady Haredale was watching her. She looked hastily away. Her parents were nearby, and she saw them looking at her and she knew they wanted her to come over and talk. She stayed where she was until Alice was on the dance floor with the man and then considered her duty as a chaperone done—after all,Alice’s parents were somewhere in the hall, and so there was no impropriety. She winced as her own parents came across the room towards her.
“Such a fine dance!” Mama said as Ophelia went across to them. “You danced so well.”
“Mama...” Ophelia looked down, shy. She had been certain the fact that she’d stood on his foot was plain for the whole hall to notice, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
“He’s got good connections,” her father murmured. “Lady Haredale, to begin.”
“But I...” Ophelia tried to say. She wanted to say that she’d made a terrible impression, that she’d stood on his toe, stuttered, and barely managed to get ten words of conversation out of him. But her parents were nodding and smiling.
“A fine gentleman,” her mother was saying. “I imagine he’s well-placed in society.”
“A good connection with Lord Elmore and his circle, for certes,” her father added.
Ophelia felt her cheeks burn. She hated the way they talked, as though her life was for them to make connections with. It was only as she stood there that she realized that it was wrong. Alice was talking to people she liked, people who she enjoyed talking to. She herself had just spent twenty minutes talking to someone who clearly disliked her; someone with whom she couldn’t even talk for those minutes.
She glanced over the ballroom, feeling suddenly dizzy. The heat and light were growing stronger, the walls pressing close. She reached out a hand to steady herself and her mother caught it.
“Are you feeling poorly?” she asked, her voice seeming to come from a long way off. “Come. Let’s find a chair. We don’t want everyone staring.”
Ophelia swallowed hard, her heart twisting. Was even herdizziness something to be weighed in the eyes of society? Her mother led her to a chair.
“Sit for a while,” her mother suggested. “I’ll get you something to drink. There’s still two hours before the candles burn down.”
Ophelia shut her eyes. She was already feeling exhausted. The pain in her head was lessening, though, and she was grateful when her mother pressed a cool glass of lemonade into her hand. She sipped it. It did restore her somewhat, and she looked around.
There was another dance happening and Alice was dancing.
She sat there for a while longer, and while she was sitting there, a blond-haired young man with an earnest face came over.
“My lady,” he greeted her mother. “I am Alfred, Baron Langdale.”
“Good evening, Lord Langdale,” her mother greeted him. She looked over at Ophelia, who hastened to try and look more awake than she felt, blinking rapidly and shifting to a straighter posture. “This is my daughter, the honorable Miss Worthington.”
“Miss?” The young man stammered. He beamed at Ophelia. “May I have this dance?”
“Yes,” Ophelia replied, seeing her mother’s gaze on her.
She stood up and felt a little better when she didn’t step on his toes. He was a baron, and not one she’d ever heard of, and she knew without them saying that her parents would disapprove despite her mother’s polite greeting.
She danced again, another dance with a captain from the army, and then she was feeling too dizzy and sat out the next two dances. The baron wanted to dance again, and another gentleman, and then it seemed the hall was growing darker, and she was relieved she would be going home.
“What a fine ball,” her mother exclaimed as the coach set off.The night enveloped everything in a dense cloak of blackness, the only light that of the burning torches some liveried footmen carried to help the guests find their way.
“It was very fine,” Father agreed. He was leaning back in the coach wearily. He looked tired, which was unusual for him. He wasn’t usually tired by social interactions—usually quite the opposite. Of all the family, he was one of the only members who genuinely enjoyed parties. Her mother was talking, and she shifted her attention to her, as she didn’t want to miss what she was saying.
“And such fine dances! You danced very well,” Mama said to Ophelia approvingly.
“Thank you, Mama,” she murmured. She felt awkward at the comment.
“And the earl! I am very interested,” her mother continued, making Ophelia shut her eyes.
“I feel dizzy,” she commented softly, though that wasn’t fully true. She did feel dizzy, but mostly she felt tired, and she didn’t want to talk about the earl and have to hear her parents extol him. She knew they were interested, and she knew that she couldn’t so much as look at the earl without feeling awkward and ashamed. He was so distant, so cold, and she felt sure he didn’t like her.
As they rolled up to the townhouse, the street dark around it, she found herself thinking of his face and those deep green eyes. She pushed the thought away, annoyed.
He thinks you’re a fool, she told herself sharply.
All the same, as she went upstairs to get ready for bed, she found that his face and that deep green gaze were lingering there on the edge of her thoughts.
