Page 53 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
My poor friend. Will she really force herself down the aisle with Lord Vincent, simply because she thinks she has no other choice?
The answer seemed increasingly likely to beyes.
Lucy was so concentrated on watching the crowd that she didn’t see Beatrice approach, until the woman plopped down into a seat beside her.
“I do hate to see you sitting here alone, Lucy,” Beatrice said regretfully. “I wish you’d let me introduce you to some people.”
“I have plenty of friends, my dear Aunt Beatrice. I enjoy people watching, you know I do.”
“I know, I know, but you know how I like to see everybody enjoying themselves at a party.”
Lucy shot her a wry smile. “Iamenjoying myself.”
That earned her a chuckle, and the two women sat in companionable silence for a moment or two.
When Beatrice and Arthur had first arrived, Lucy had braced herself for ill-treatment at worse, icy politeness at best, and had applied herself to trying to find somewhere – anywhere – else to live. She was pleasantly surprised, of course, to be welcomed into the family. Arthur felt the brother she had never had, and Beatrice like the mother she could scarcely remember. The place felt like home again, in a way it hadn’t since her father had passed away.
Lucy was lucky, she knew that. She was in a position to help others. Other like Felicity, in fact.
“Felicity’s parents are making her living situation almost unbearable,” Lucy said, breaking the silence. “She finally confided in me. I am worried about her, Beatrice. I am afraid she’ll marry a man she does not love to escape.”
Beatrice sighed. “Oh, dear. That is so devastating. I can assume you’re talking about Lord Vincent? I confess, I cannot bring myself to like that man. If I didn’t happen to know that he was rich, I’d think he was a fortune-hunter. He acts like one, certainly.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Lucy remarked. As she watched, another set of dancing was starting up again. Felicity had been obliged to dance the first set with Lord Vincent, and it seemed that now he was trying to convince her to stand up with him again. With him and Mrs. Thornhill guarding her like a pair of dragons, there was small chance of Felicity dancing with anybody else.
Or no, wait – was that Arthur, pushing his way determinedly through the crowd? Lucy’s heart leapt. Arthur was going to ask her to dance. She could see it in his face. Felicity had noticed him now, too, and a flash of hope appeared in her eyes.
And then, out of nowhere, Miranda appeared, stepping into Arthur’s path and obliging him to stop. She began to chatter to him, eyelashes fluttering, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Seizing the moment, Lord Vincent redoubled his efforts, and a moment later, Lucy saw a subdued-looking Felicity being led onto the dance floor, watched by Arthur, who looked entirely miserable.
She sank back into the seat with a sigh.
“The only thing about people-watching,” Beatrice said meditatively, seemingly from nowhere, “is that it is purely a spectator sport. It can be infuriating to watch things go on without you, especially when one has the power to get up and change things, if one wished.”
Lucy shot her a look. “Is this your way of telling me I should get up and join in?”
Beatrice widened her eyes, looking like the very picture of innocence.
“Oh, my dear Lucy, I should notdaretell you what to do.”
Before Lucy could shoot back with some quip or other, a juddering, screeching groan filled the ballroom, pitching over the music and making the musicians falter and the dancers miss a step or two.
People looked around, frowning, trying to ascertain the source of the noise. Rising to her feet, Lucy scanned the ballroom. A nasty sense of unease had lodged itself in her gut.
A shimmer of movement caught her eye, and she glanced up. High above the heads of the dancers, the chandelier was shuddering, the individual glass pieces, so recently cleaned, bouncing and dancing. The whole chandelier was beginning to tip, just a little, to one side.
“The chandelier!” Lucy heard a voice shout, realising that it was her own, “The chandelier is falling!”
As she spoke, there was one last, horrible groan, and the chandelier pitched downwards, dropping like a stone.
People screamed shrilly, disappearing from the dance floor like ants scattering from the path of a falling stone. Only the dancers in the centre, knotted together as they were, struggled to get out of the way.
One dancer, Lucy saw with a sickening realization, was Felicity. She was struggling to get away, with Lord Vincent nowhere to be seen.
The chandelier hit the floor with an earth-shaking crash, and people screamed louder.
Chapter Twenty-One
