“Nicholas! Come on,” Lady Lockwood said, ignoring her. “It’s five minutes before the guests arrive. Come and join us.”
Nicholas blinked as if he’d been lost in thought and wordlessly inclined his head to his grandmother, following herto the door. Bernadette stood beside him, cheeks burning, shaking with a mix of rage and nerves.
In a few minutes, a substantial portion of theTonwould be there, and she would feel judged and ashamed.
The doors were open and, before she expected him to, the butler cleared his throat and started announcing people. Bernadette curtseyed and smiled and did all she was expected to do, then stiffened as she saw some familiar faces. First was Lord Overham, and then behind him was the woman she’d wished never to see again.
“Why! How lovely,” Lady Emily murmured, curtseying to her. “And my best wishes for the day after tomorrow, of course. Best wishes to you both.”
Her voice was sweet and refined and Bernadette looked at her firmly. She could spot no dissemblance in her expression, but something about Lady Emily and her gaze troubled her. She didn’t look pleased, but she didn’t look neutral either. There was a look there she couldn’t interpret. It was conniving, somehow, cunning, and she didn’t understand it.
“Thank you,” she said, hoping that the woman would say nothing else.
Lady Alverton, her mother, greeted her next, all politeness and brief, correct curtseying, and then the two moved into the ballroom. Bernadette felt her stomach twist with nerves and distaste. Something about those women bothered her. She looked over at Lady Lockwood, who had clearly invited the pair of them, but she wasn’t looking in her direction and she heardmore guests coming and so she turned around.
The guest-list was not as exhaustive as it had been the previous evening, and soon the butler was walking into the room from his position near the stairs, the great doors closed. Bernadette glanced up at Nicholas. He was pale and she felt her insides twist.
She wondered what he might be thinking.
“That’s a relief,” he murmured neutrally. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some cordial? It’s getting hot already.” He lifted a hand to his cravat theatrically.
“No, I’m quite well, thank you,” Bernadette murmured. “Unless you wish to fetch some?” She glanced over at the table. Lady Emily was somewhere down there. Perhaps he wanted to find her.
He frowned. “Not particularly,” he said, then his frown deepened. “I apologise,” he said softly.
“For what?” Bernadette asked, looking at him coolly.
“For my absence in the last two days. Grandfather has been keeping me busy. Investments and finances.” He made a face.
“I see,” Bernadette murmured. She looked up at him, looking for signs that he was telling the truth. He looked uncomfortable, his glance moving from her to the ballroom and back and he seemed distressed. Perhaps he was itching to get away from her, to spend time with a lady of refinement and elegance before being shackled to a graceless one. She swallowedhard.
“I had hoped to see you.” His eyes wandered, not looking at her, and she swallowed again.
“There always seems to be an occasion planned where we’ll see each other.” She hoped he could hear the anger in her tone. He shrugged.
“Yes. Very true.” He didn’t even sound as though he’d heard her. She felt her heart twist. She was used to being overlooked. He was doing exactly that, and it hurt as much as it had weeks ago at her first ball.
“I will go and fetch some cordial,” she said tightly, trying not to show how close to weeping she was. He blinked, seeming confused.
“You’re thirsty?” he asked.
“It is getting hot, as you say,” she said crisply, glancing about. Mama and Papa were over by the doors. Lady Lockwood was standing near them.
“Well, then.” He spoke neutrally. “I hope to speak to you later this evening. Outside by the pavilion, perhaps? Meet me there within half an hour.”
Bernadette blinked at him in utter confusion. Without saying another word, he turned and walked across the room. She watched him and stood near the stairs, trying to fathom what exactly had possessed him.
Still confused, she walked haphazardly to the refreshments table, not even seeing where she went, her eyes glossy and her heart twisting with confused pain.
Chapter 23
Nicholas stood outside, the scent of the dew and the damp earth mixing with the exotic fragrance of roses and honeysuckle that scented the air around him. The pavilion was near the rear wall of the garden, screened from the ballroom by a coniferous hedge. He breathed in and tried to calm down. Surely, she’d arrive soon.
“Why was she so strange?” he asked the silence. The pond stretched out a few feet from him, the water like a dark mirror, the stars like points of brightness on its inky, smooth surface. He gazed at it, wishing he could see something that would give him some guidance.
Bernadette was behaving so peculiarly.
She’d been so warm, so intimate, just two days ago. There had been such beauty in their dance together, so much trust and caring. It felt so beautiful, almost magical. It felt almost as though he’d imagined it. She was being so distant, so disinterested. She had barely agreed to come and hear what he had to say in the pavilion.
