Nicholas danced with her.
She knew it without Lord Lockwood having to say. Lady Emily. That was her name—she recalled standing at the door earlier, hearing the butler announcing her and her mother as they arrived.
Nicholas, she thought desperately. You really do prefer her to me, don’t you? She hadn’t been imagining it.
She felt nauseous and looked around for a chair. Spotting one near the refreshments table, she hurried over and sat down. A group of older women stood nearby, their laughter and talk grating on her nerves. Her back stiff and tense, her gaze moved unseeing over the revelry on the dance floor.
“Bernadette? Bernadette?” A familiar voice called from behind. She spun round. Nicholas was there, hurrying towards her. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. “There you are! I was looking for you.”
“I went outside,” Bernadette said tightly. She stood up. He smiled, but she felt instantly guarded. He looked pleased, and she wondered why. Had he enjoyed the time with Lady Emily?
“It’s hot, I know,” he said with a grimace. “I’m sorry. Would you like some lemonade? Grandmother’s kitchen is famous for its lemonade.”
You’re just trying to please me,she thought, pain lancing through her.You must think I’m like an awkward child if I canbe pleased with a glass of lemonade.
She looked up at him, her gaze as cold as she could make it. He blinked, confusedly.
“I don’t need any lemonade, thank you,” she said tightly. “It’s cool outside and I feel much better.”
She looked around the room, wishing that someone she knew was nearby so she could talk to them. It felt so awkward talking to him.
“I’m glad,” he said softly. “Would you like to take the air? The garden is small, but fine too.” His brow creased with a worried frown.
“I’d prefer to remain inside,” she said primly. Nicholas shrugged, though he looked uneasy.
“As you wish. Are you sure you wouldn’t care for something to drink? Or to eat?” He glanced over at the refreshments table. Bernadette shook her head.
“I’m quite well provided for,” she said thinly. “I am pleased to be able to sit for a few minutes.” She gestured to the chair, where she’d been sitting when he came to join her. He inclined his head, seeming confused.
“If you will sit for a while, of course; please do. I will join you,” he said, coming to stand beside the chair. Bernadette tried not to glare at him.
“It’s quite all right,” she said, unable to conceal her hurt.“I’m quite happy to sit here by myself. You should find someone else to talk to.” She wanted to add, “someone more appropriate”, but she didn’t wish to raise the topic where so many eyes could watch them.
“Well...” Nicholas stammered. “I thought that I...” He paused and Bernadette saw him wipe his hands on his jacket as if he was nervous. “I mean...If you want to sit here and be quiet, that’s different.”
“I wish to rest for a moment,” Bernadette said, heart twisting. She wished she could talk to him, could explain what she meant. But it wasn’t possible, not in front of so many people. And besides, she didn’t fully understand her mood herself. All she knew was that she was hurt too. Hurt, angry, and dismayed. It was quite reasonable for her to sit and be quiet.
“As you wish,” he said slowly. He stood beside the chair for a moment or two, but Bernadette sat staring out over the ballroom as if she was observing the guests, not looking over at him where he stood beside her. After a second or two, he turned around and walked towards the refreshments table.
Bernadette turned to look, then stared the other way. She could ignore him, just like he could ignore her. She glanced around, almost wishing that she could dance with someone like he had. The woman in the sparkly gown—Lady Emily—was dancing with Lord Overham now and Bernadette looked over to where Nicholas stood at the table, but he was talking to a man of about his own age and his back was to the dance floor.
Maybe he’d be upset too,she thought moodily.
She sat and watched the guests, her heart aching. He had seemed as though he wanted to talk, but perhaps he just felt guilty. Doubt gnawed at her, grown large and sated on the words that Mama had poured into her ears.
Uninteresting mouse. Clumsy. Timid.
She swallowed hard, her throat tight and sore. She wanted to sob, but it wasn’t possible because there were guests everywhere and she knew they were watching. She glanced around, searching for someone she knew. She couldn’t spot Lady Aldford or Lord Aldford and their daughters. The other guests were unknown to her. Lady Lockwood hadn’t asked her if there was anyone she wanted to invite, or she’d have invited Viola, but the guests were not of her choice.
Her heart aching, eyes blurring, she stood up and walked as swiftly as she could to the terrace. There, at least she might find a corner to stand by herself without people staring. There, they couldn’t see if she cried. She held her breath and tried not to sob and stared out at the garden and wondered how she was going to remain at the ball a second longer.
Chapter 20
The ballroom was dark, the candles all but stumps in their holders in the chandeliers high overhead. The household staff were tidying away the plates and cups and the ballroom was silent except for the soft clink of glass and the sound of footsteps. Nicholas stood leaning against a column and shut his eyes. Exhaustion dragged at him, making him too tired to stand up.
“Nicholas, dear...go and rest. The guest suite is made up for you.” Grandmother spoke quietly from behind Nicholas. He turned around, barely aware of her words or their meaning.
“In a moment,” he replied when he had deciphered the sentence. “Thank you,” he added politely. He turned and stared out over the ballroom. The soft glow of the candles was added to by lamps the servants had brought to illuminate the hall as they went about their work. Most of the cleaning would take place tomorrow when it was light. Nicholas stifled a yawn and stumbled up the stairs.
