Page 3 of One Night to Remember
“Come along,” she told Miss Corning with what she hoped was a confident smile. “Let’s return to the dancing, shall we? Perhaps we’ll fill the rest of your card while we wait for the next set to begin.”
Miss Corning nodded. She stuck to Felicity’s side as they exited the retiring room and returned to the loud, bright whirl of the ballroom.
“There’s my mother,” Miss Corning said. “Oh dear, she looks vexed. Did I tarry too long?”
“Go to her,” Felicity said. “Vexed or not, mothers are a precious thing to cherish.”
She could not even remember hers.
“Thank you for everything.” Miss Corning curtsied and hurried off.
Felicity made her way toward her acquaintance Hester Donnell.
Like Felicity, this was not Hester’s first Season. Unlike Felicity, Hester had been born into this world. She did not have to pretend to belong or worry about being unmasked as inferior. To Hester, all of this grandeur was normal.
More importantly, Hester was a leader of fashion. Their amicable association had eased Felicity’s entrée into Society back when Felicity had made her debut. For that, Felicity would always be grateful.
“Did you try the lemon tarts?” Hester asked as she approached.
“You know I tried the lemon tarts,” Felicity responded. “I tried all the lemon tarts. I would have cleaned up the lemon tart crumbs, too, had I not been forcibly restrained by eagle-eyed footmen.”
Hester smirked. “I wish that were true. A little lemon tart drama would liven up this soirée.”
Even after years of running into each other at ballrooms just like this one, Felicity still struggled to understand how other people couldtireof being surrounded by so much beauty and riches and food and music.
“How are you managing to pass the time?” she asked dryly.
Hester tilted the edge of her painted fan toward a well-dressed couple locking elbows in a country-dance. “I’m watching Penelope Wakefield captivate the Earl of Findon. Some say his eye wanders too much for him to select a bride, but he has saved a dance for Lady Penelope at least once a fortnight. Mark my words, that man is thinking of marriage.”
Felicity certainly hoped so. Not because she had any insight into whatever designs Penelope and the earl might or might not have for each other. But because Felicity and Lord Raymore had also shared a set every single week this Season, without fail.
If fortnightly attentions meant a proposal was forthcoming for Lady Penelope, surely a weekly waltz or minuet strongly indicated Lord Raymore’s matrimonial intentions toward Felicity. She just needed to coax him to take the next step.
“When do you think he’ll ask for her hand?” she murmured.
“Any day now,” Hester replied with confidence. “Next year at this time, they’ll be the hosts of the Season’s biggest crush.” She swirled an inch of golden liquid in her glass and muttered, “I hope they’ll have better sherry.”
Felicity made no response. She thought the refreshments perfectly delicious, and tonight’s party positively brilliant.
“I’m rarely caught off guard in such matters,” Hester continued. “I knew Lady Diana was meant for your brother the first time I saw them together.”
Felicity frowned. “Did they even dance together before they were wed?”
“They did not,” Hester said with portent, “and he wanted to. Of course they were destined to marry. Everyone wants who they cannot have.”
Felicity’s stomach clenched. Was there some truth to what Hester was saying? Was the real reason Lord Raymore had yet to ask for Felicity’s hand because she saidyesto every dance instead of limiting her availability?
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Courtship rules were so arbitrary! Why must it be a game of winners and losers instead of frank conversations where everyone simply said exactly what they meant?
I like you.
I like you, too.
Let’s get married.
Wouldn’t that be much easier than making the proper hand signs to flirt with one’s fan, whilst rationing out minuets and pinching one’s cheeks in the retiring room between each set in order to keep up the appearance of a youthful glow?
“The expression on your face,” Hester said with a laugh. “It’s as if you just tried the Barkleys’ dreadful sherry for the first time. What on earth are you thinking about?”
