Page 51 of Lady for a Season
What frightened him tonight was Maggie. He could barely take his eyes off her. She had been beautifully dressed and coiffured and as far as he could tell she was managing to make her way through the evening without fault, but her eyes frequently sought his and there was fear in them. He wondered whether she would give up after this evening, whether she would refuse to keep going with this charade and leave him to manage by himself. And he could not do it, he admitted to himself. He was coping only because she was there, where he could see her, giving him courage to get through this evening, this scrutiny, this bid for his right to remain in the world and not be locked away again. The idea of her leaving, of being frightened away…. His heart beat faster at the thought, a wave of dizziness swept over him.
“Edward?”
She was at his side, one hand resting on his for just a moment.
“I feel dizzy,’ he said in a low voice, conscious of the need not to be overheard.
Her voice lowered to a murmur. “Breathe,” she said. “Breathe, Edward. All is well. I am here with you.”
He wanted to hold her hand but that would be noticed, instead he looked into her eyes and his shoulders relaxed under her warm gaze. He thought back to her hand on his naked chest in the nights after bad dreams, the touch of her skin against his, how it had always soothed him, and tried to breathe more slowly.
“What would I do without you?” he asked after a few moments, and she only shook her head.
“You do not have to think of that. I will always be here if you need me.”
His racing heart slowed at her confidence, her certainty. “You are not frightened away?”
“Not if you are with me.”
He could not resist it; he touched her hand again. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“Go,” she said smiling. “You are supposed to be making conversation.”
In the carriage on the way home the Duchess nodded, pleased. “It went well,” she said. “Next week will be the Halesworth ball. You must both ride or walk daily in Rotten Row,” she added. “Now that you are beginning to make acquaintances it is important to be seen.”
Edward wondered whether she had even noticed his moment of panic, or whether she had simply overlooked it while courting the Godwins. Soon he must face the next social hurdle, their first ball.
Despite her fears, Maggie found the Halesworth ballroom enchanting. A vast room, with a gleaming wooden floor reflecting the light of hundreds of candles. Looking glasses everywhere, vases of ornate flower arrangements everywherein vivid autumn shades of orange and yellow, with red berries here and there. In an adjoining room, every kind of drink and delicacy were laid out, from shining ices to tiny piled-up iced biscuits in a myriad of colours. And jellies, cakes, puddings, each exquisitely presented on delicate stands. Maggie found a glass of champagne pressed into her hand and was presented with a pretty paper fan, on which were written the planned order of dances for the evening, along with space to add the names of her dance partners, should she claim some, to be included with the aid of a delicate silver pencil.
“May I claim the first dance?”
Maggie turned to find a young man bowing before her.
“I – yes, of course,” she stammered, trying to hold both the pen and the glass of champagne while opening the fan.
“Allow me,” he said, and took the fan and the pen, added his name to it with a flourish, bowed again and left her standing flustered.
She put down her champagne on a side table, unfolded the fan and examined the elaborate handwriting. Bamber, was it? She had never heard of him and what an odd first name, unless it was his surname?
“May I request the second dance?”
And so it went on. Maggie could barely move from her spot, nor seek any refuge or rest, as one man after another bowed and wrote their names onto her fan. At last she moved until she was entirely hidden by a vast floral display and gaped at the fan in disbelief. Name after name, most of them surnames, she supposed, as they did not sound like Christian names at all.
“You hiding as well?”
Maggie realised she was standing next to a tall young woman with fair hair who was leaning back against the wall in a bored attitude. Unlike most of the women in the room, she had shorthair, brushed forwards and curled at the front. Maggie hastily tried to think of the appropriate thing to say.
“I just needed a moment to collect myself…”
“Deadly dull, isn’t it? And we haven’t even started dancing yet, then there’ll be small talk to make.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggie murmured, “I don’t know your name. I am –”
“Margaret Seton, distant cousin to the Duchess of Buckingham, who’s taken you in and is currently busy marrying off the Duke of Buckingham. He’s the catch of the season, for sure. Must be helping your chances along too?”
“I –”
“I’m Lady Honora.”
