Elizabeth let it out in one swoosh, smiling at Uncle Noah as she tried to control her nerves. “I cannot understand why I am in high fidgets. I have attended a London season before, but I find myself high strung and in need of a chair.”
Uncle Noah took her arm in his, patting it. “Come, I shall guide you inside. If you feel faint, I shall hold you up. How does that sound?”
"Splendid, Uncle Noah, thank you."
They walked down the stairs, Elizabeth hoping that she didn’t trip. It would be just what she needed – to end up with broken bones. Cecilia was a couple steps ahead, so eager was she to take in everything that the ballroom had to offer. Aunt Deborah linked her arm in with Uncle Noah's on the other side, and the three of them got to the bottom without any mishaps.
“Well, that went as well as could be,” said Elizabeth.
“Well done, dear,” her aunt said. “Now it is time to mingle. Fill up your dance card with good suitors and do not forget to smile.”
Elizabeth attempted a smile, but it did not feel right. Uncle Noah looked at her, chuckling.
“My dear Elizabeth, if that is a smile, then I am the king, although we do not seem to have one at this moment.”
“I am trying, Uncle. This is all that I can muster at this moment time.”
They neared the drinks table where a large bowl of punch sat.
“Here,” her aunt said, handing her a glass of punch. “Drink this. It should calm your nerves. Not too much, mind you. We would not want to drag you off the floor.”
Both her aunt and uncle laughed, as though they had just shared a private joke. They were strange like that, always laughing and silently communicating with each other. They were the epitome of the term soulmate. Cecilia suddenly appeared, dragging a familiar girl with her.
“Look who I have found! This is Megan, Percy's cousin. She is also taking part in the season this year!”
Elizabeth remembered her. She was the one who would not stop gossiping – just like Cecilia. It was no wonder that they get along so well.
“We can circle the ballroom together,” Cecilia insisted. “We are all fairly new here, well, except for you Elizabeth, and you, Aunt Deborah and Uncle Noah. But we should still stick together – I know that it is going to be a long and memorable night.”
Elizabeth inwardly groaned. Her torture did not end. She drank the rest of her punch and immediately went for another one.
“Be careful of that, Elizabeth,” her aunt warned. “That punch can be lethal in large doses. I once ended up in a stream due to it.”
“I remember that,” her uncle laughed. “I had to fish you out, but I kept on coming away with layers of clothing.”
Her aunt playfully hit him. “Oh, hush you. These young girls do not need to know of my escapades of old.”
“It was not that long ago, dear. I seem to remember a pair of round –”
“Noah!”
“I was going to say stones, dear. A pair of white stones that you had artfully posed on. Reminds me of the time that you posed nu –”
“Noah Shepherd, if you say one more word you will be sleeping in the stables.”
“My heart! You would have me sleep with the horses?”
Cecilia suddenly yanked on Elizabeth’s arm, pulling her away from their aunt and uncle.
“What are you doing?”
“You cannot spend the entire night with our aunt and uncle. You need to get out there and start looking for your husband.”
“Must you be so callous? Announce to the whole world that I am looking for a husband, they might just hear you better!”
Cecilia raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do come, Elizabeth. Megan is also looking for a suitor. We can all look together.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose that I could do worse.”
“That does not sound complimentary,” Megan said. “But then again, Cecilia did say that you did not want to be here.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister. What else had she said to the girl? Cecilia had not been away for so long to have related all those details as well as greet the girl. But this was Cecilia, anything was possible.
As time passed, Elizabeth found that she quite liked the cousin. The young girl was witty and intelligent, a positive in her book. The only downfall was the incessant gossiping going on between the two. As for the young men that approached her…
“Dull, boring, and unremarkable. This must be a bad year.”
“What are you muttering about?” Cecilia asked.
“Oh, nothing. Please excuse me, I am off to get a glass of champagne. I quite like the French bubbles.”
Cecilia frowned. “You have hardly touched a drink in your life. How is it that you have had several glasses of both punch and champagne, but you still seem to be in your right mind?”
She shrugged. “As strong as an ox, as light as a feather, and all that.”
“I do not understand what that can possibly mean.”
“You may try and figure it out while I get my glass.”
She left them frowning after her, amused by the whole thing. A few men stopped her on her way, requesting a dance, but she declined, pleading a headache. As she walked away from one man, she heard him mutter to his friend.
“You would not want her. If she can consume so much alcohol right now, could you imagine what she would be like in years to come? All that beauty would just be savaged by her drinking.”
Mortified, she tried to gauge her level of drunkenness. Had she been drinking that much? When she found herself tilting a tad too forward, she had her answer.
She decided that some fresh air may be the answer rather than another glass of champagne, or even punch for that matter. She made her way to the balcony, not only to curb the effects of the alcohol but to also get away from the suppressing crowds. She should have never come.
*
As soon as Anthony entered the ballroom, his headache intensified. He touched his temples, massaging them in circular motions but to no avail. His friend seemed to be in high spirits, which only served to irritate him further.
“I do not understand why I allowed you to drag me to this event,” he complained. “I was better off at home.”
“Drinking yourself into a stupor?” Felton asked. “I think not.”
“And what of my headache? Shall I suffer the endless chatter of women simply because you think it necessary?”
Felton laughed. “Your headache is a direct result of your drinking. I warned you to give it a rest, but you continued. You knew full well that you were attending the ball – do not plead innocence.”
“I should have known that I would not receive any sympathy from you,” Anthony muttered.
“Ha! It is not sympathy that you need, but a sweet woman to take away your dreary attitude. The right woman with the right smile will be the best medicine for you.”
“Diana had a beautiful smile.” He watched his friend look heavenward, his sigh deep and prolonged.
“We will not get anywhere if you insist on thinking about Diana. Look – before you are many women who would love to be the next Lady Cavendish.”
Anthony took a look around the ballroom, noting the interested gazes that were directed at him. He felt as though he were in shark-infested waters with no way out. He looked behind him, seeing the open double doors. That way would be utterly useless. If he attempted to leave the ball, Felton would wallop him and bring him right back, and Anthony was in no mood for a rumble in his state.
“I know what you are thinking,” Felton commented. “I request that you put it out of your mind because it will not happen. We are here for better or worse.”
“The worse part sounds about right.”
Anthony jumped when Felton clapped his hand on his shoulder, jarring his aching head.
“Felton! Have you no regard for a sickly man?”
“A sickly man? Hardly. I daresay that if Diana were to appear right now, that headache would disappear.”
His friend was rig
ht, there was no point in arguing. Seeing Diana would end his heartache and bring light to his world again. Perhaps Lady Luck would shine down on him and bring Diana to this very ball. He had not heard of her return, but there was still a chance that she could be here. Anthony could not resist giving the crowd before him a thorough look.
Felton said, "I guarantee you that she is not here. I have already sent a few enquiries about her whereabouts, and she is most definitely in Paris."
“I do not know what you mean,” Anthony lied.
A short burst of laughter erupted out of Felton's mouth, drawing the attention of several guests.
“A blind man could see what you were doing, old friend. Try to put Diana out of your mind for a moment and take in the beauty before you. What about that lovely woman with the flaxen hair?”
Anthony followed Felton's head jerk, his eyes coming to rest on a pretty buxom blonde. True, she was delectable, but she was not Diana.
“I prefer a woman with dark hair.”
Felton lifted an eyebrow. "Since when, may I ask?" He quickly lifted his palm. "Do not tell me, I already know. Very well, let us look to the brunettes and raven-haired women."
Felton took a step forward into the crowd, but Anthony held back. If he walked into the sea of marriage-desperate women, he might lose a limb. His friend turned back to look at him, his gaze questioning.
“Why not take a seat away from the crowd? I can see the women quite well from there.” He pointed at the seat furthest from the men and women.
“What kind of a daft friend would I be to allow that to happen? You would gladly sit there the whole evening, glaring at the women who would appreciate a word from you.”
“I do not see you looking for any women!” Anthony snapped.
Felton pulled his head back a fraction, his eyebrows raised. “I was not aware that I needed to find anyone. I am not the lovesick fool.”
Anthony looked at his friend carefully. He was not the only one to suffer heartbreak, for Felton had also loved a woman before her untimely death. Henrietta Rydale had been Felton's great love. Their courtship had been brief but intense in that they seldom had spent time apart. He knew that his friend had preferred to ignore the fact that she had had a weak heart, having hope that Henrietta would remain alive through his love. Her death had been a dark day for all who knew her, most especially Felton.
“You may not be a lovesick fool, but it has been four years, Felton.”
Pain and anguish quickly filled his friend's eyes. He had not managed to overcome his heartache.
“This is not about me – I am not the one who has been ape drunk for the better part of two weeks, who refused to leave his room for days on end and avoided all social contact due to the careless act of one woman. I got on with my life. It is time that you do the same.”
Anthony could see that he had upset him. Felton preferred to bury his feelings and pretend to enjoy life. He came across as a jovial man without a care in the world, but there was a sadness to him that appeared during rare moments.
“I am sorry, old friend.”
He watched as Felton mustered a smile, the light having gone out of his eyes.
“Do not be sorry, be willing to put the drama that is Diana to rest and find someone better.”
Anthony would argue, but this was hardly the time to do so. Perhaps if he let him introduce him to a few women, he would forget his pain.
"No blonde-haired women, simpering fools, cotton-head women, or those who giggle incessantly."
Felton smiled. “That's the spirit. We will find the perfect woman yet.”
Anthony groaned. “I have willingly put myself in the path of vultures.”
*
Elizabeth could not help but compare her home to the world about her. London was the opposite of country life, a poor substitute for the beauty of the rolling hills, wildflowers, woods and animals. And yet there were people who lived here for much of the year.
As she looked over the balcony, she found herself missing home. If only she could put this whole ordeal behind her and return home.
She was startled when a man appeared by her side. He said not a word but stared into the darkness. She peered closely at him, frowning as she waited for him to say something. He looked familiar, but she could not see properly from her vantage. He neither said anything nor gave an indication that he knew that she was staring at him.
“Sir, you look as bored and annoyed as I feel.”
Is that what she had meant to say? She couldn't tell because her brain was still muddled. Oh dear, it must be the alcohol. The man gave her a side glance before settling his gaze elsewhere. How rude! She was about to walk away and find another spot when he spoke.
“I take it that we are both not enjoying the ball.”
“That is an understatement. How people can bear to come here every year is beyond me.”
“Is your first time here?”
"No, I have been here before, but it was a while back. Somehow, this time feels ten times worse."
“I know the feeling. It must be all the desperate people in there. Vultures, the lot of them.”
"I could not have said it better myself. I feel as though I am in some odd mating ritual, where the bird puffs out his chest and the female looks on, picking the best male. Only, the women seem to be doing more chest-puffing than the men. I have had quite an eyeful, I tell you."
He laughed. "There are some overly enthusiastic men and women looking to get married. It is no wonder that there is mayhem inside."
Elizabeth found herself enjoying her little conversation with the stranger. He was familiar. There was something about him.
"I do feel sorry for the Baron of Bedford, though. I hear that he is in attendance, but I have yet to see him."
“Oh?” he said. “Why should you feel sorry for him?”
“Have you not heard of his rejection? I personally would not have been able to attend such a public event with such a rejection. I would lock myself in my bedroom until I was sure that the world had got over it.”
“I can tell you that he is doing well.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I am the Baron of Bedford.”
Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. Oh no, oh no, oh no. This could not be happening! What were the odds of speaking to the baron himself? Oh, she’d put her foot in it.
“Oh dear, I am terribly sorry, my lord. Terribly sorry! Had I known... Oh, what a fool I am. I should have never said a word.”
He chuckled. “I was sure that you had recognised me, but clearly not. Do not be concerned with what you have said and do not stop talking on account of my identity. I quite like a woman who speaks her mind.”
But her embarrassment would not lessen. What were the odds of the one time that she gossiped that she would speak to the very man she was gossiping about? It would be best to return to the ballroom before she dug herself a deeper hole.
“Excuse me, my lord.”
She moved away, but his earnest plea stopped him.
“Please, do not go. I wish to speak with someone who is not trying to trap me into marriage or force me to marry the first pretty face. Please.”
Elizabeth looked at the doorway, knowing that her escape lay that way. But he sounded as though he was in need of cheering up. There was something else playing on her mind, and that was the magnetic pull towards this man. She had felt it as soon as he had walked onto the balcony, not knowing who she was. And now she felt it ever more strongly. Peculiar indeed.
“Very well, I shall stay.”
*
This woman was miles different from Diana. She appeared sweeter, more wholesome. And she spoke her mind, whereas Diana always beat around the bush, choosing to remain infuriatingly mysterious while he pined after her like a lovesick puppy. He was glad he had managed to convince her to stay, as he found that he did not wish to be alone after all, despite running away from the crowded ballroom. Anthony had managed to slip away from Felton,
who seemed rather sweet on the blonde women he had first pointed out.
He hoped that the woman did not have matrimony on her mind, for Felton was not looking for such. His friend flitted from woman to woman, being the rake that people had come to know him as. Anthony peered closely at the young woman before him, having the distinct feeling that he may have seen her before.
“You do seem familiar. Perhaps I met you the one time that you attended a season?”
She shook her head. “You attended a spring celebration some years ago in the countryside. That is when I first saw you.”
A Courtship to Remember: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 8