Page 10 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
Sidney stared at the young woman who was gazing at him across the ballroom. Her hair was pale honey in the candlelight, her skin like pearl. Her posture was fine and graceful and the white dress that she wore flowed around her lovely form. Her eyes held his and Sidney blinked in confusion, then he realized who it was. It was her! The woman from the art exhibition.
His heart raced. She was looking at him and she was not hurrying away. Quite the opposite. It seemed, rather, that she was heading in his direction. He rooted to the spot, watching in complete disbelief as she moved through the crowd in his direction. He had dreamed he might see her again, but he had not expected it to happen. He could barely believe it.
“Anastasia!” A young woman’s voice rang out on his left, and Sidney’s heart fell as she moved hurriedly in the direction of the auburn-haired young woman who had spoken. He looked away, feeling ashamed.
She was looking for her friend. That was all, he told himself sorrowfully. His throat tightened, and he was surprised that tears burned in his eyes. He felt a fool.
“I say, old chap!” Henry’s voice was loud in his ears. “It’s crowded in here, eh?”
“Mm.” Sidney nodded. He cleared his throat, trying to respond. He gazed around the room, but he could not see the pale-haired young lady or her companion anywhere. He tried to ignore the pain he felt.
She wouldn’t dance with me anyway,he reminded himself sadly.At least I didn’t have the option of asking.
She was beautiful and clearly sought-after in society. He was none of those things—at least, not anymore.
“Sidney!” Amy appeared at his side. She smiled at him, her dark eyes wide and bright. “It’s so hot. Shall we find some refreshments?”
“I’d be pleased to walk with you to the refreshments table, sister,” Sidney said firmly. He was terrified of being so close to people, but he could not refuse his sister anything. She beamed at him. Her thick dark hair had reddish tones in it in the bright candlelight, and the rich dark red dress she wore made them appear strongly.
He walked with Amy through the thronging people, looking for the refreshments table. As a man somewhat taller than average, he had an advantage—he could see over everyone’s heads. He gazed around, informing Amy of what he could see.
“There’s a table over by the doors at the back,” he told her. “I think it’s the only one without a crowd around it. Mayhap we should go that way.” His pulse raced. The raw terror that he felt whenever he had to face people outweighed anything else.
“Indeed, let us proceed,” his sister agreed brightly.
He pushed through the crowd with her at his side. He could see the table, and there were one or two people standing close to it, but nothing like the crowds around the tables lower down. He headed slowly towards it, wincing every time someone looked at him. He saw people flinch and look away and his heart thumped painfully every time it happened.
I look horrible,he reminded himself savagely.Like some evil creature.
He glanced at Amy. She didn’t ever notice his scars. He felt reassured by the fact that at least she could tolerate them—her, Mama and Henry. And Cousin Giles and Aunt Harriet, he reminded himself a little sourly. They didn’t cringe away from him either. Five people in the whole of London who could look at him unflinchingly.
“Ah! Grand.” Amy exclaimed, interrupting his thoughts.
He noticed Amy seemed contented and he turned away, letting her go to the table on her own. She could not really expect him to mingle so closely with people who were looking away, practically turning their backs on him. He gazed out over the crowd.
There, in the corner, he could see a head of blonde hair, beside a head of red hair. It was her; the woman from the gallery. He was sure of it. He watched them, longing to go over there. He was far enough away that all he could see was their heads, and a smudge here and there of white dresses in between the thick crowd in which they stood. They were right up at the front of the hall, where the group of people was most densely packed.
“Son?” His mother’s voice made him whip around in surprise. His mother was standing just behind him, her pale gray gown shimmering in the candles. With her stood two ladies. One was white-haired and seemed to be around Mama’s age. Beside her stood a young lady with dark tresses artfully arranged in delicate ringlets framing her countenance. She had a heart-shaped face and red lips, and she should have been beautiful, but the look of frozen disdain she leveled at him made him shudder.
“Son? This is the baroness of Kepford and her daughter, Miss Highbury.” Mama said lightly.
“Good evening,” Sidney said mechanically, and he bowed.
“Good evening, your grace!” Lady Kepford gushed. “Why! We have heard so much about you.” Her hazel eyes sparkled, but it was more of a glitter than a sparkle, like someone sighting a prize.
“Truly?” Sidney could not help asking. He knew what was whispered around society, and he was just about to ask her if, having heard so much, she still dared come near, when she spoke again.
“Yes! We are delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you,” Sidney murmured. He looked into her eyes. He could see no real warmth, though she was smiling brightly at him. Instead, her expression seemed hard, and more than a little forced. He studied her more closely. She was wearing an ocher gown, her neck encircled with a thick gold necklace, her white hair pulled back into a tight chignon. Her posture was firm, almost aggressive. Somehow, altogether, she gave off apredatory air.
She’s interested in my fortune, Sidney thought sadly. He looked down at his feet.
“It is so hot in here, is it not?” Mama asked, clearly trying to interject a few words into the gaping quiet.
“It is!” Lady Kepford declared stridently. “So hot. Would you not care for a turn about the terrace, Priscilla? Perhaps the Duke of Willowick and the dowager duchess might accompany us?” She gazed at Mama hopefully.
His mother’s eyes met his and Sidney looked away. He knew that she was fully aware of how uncomfortable he was. He cleared his throat.
