“A ball? Oh, we must attend!”
CHAPTER 15
“It is hard to… explain.” Seth exhaled as they ate dinner, the sounds of his cutlery chinking quite tentatively against the plate.
It was later that day, and Charity was sitting with Seth at dinner. She had deduced that once more the candles had been placed far from them at the far end of the table. They had eaten comfortably together, conversation flowing freely, until Charity had brought up the matter of attending the ball again.
“Try me,” Charity pleaded, resting an elbow on the table and leaning toward him invitingly. From the way the sounds of his cutlery chinking suddenly deadened, she assumed she had managed to succeed in capturing his attention.
“I have not attended events for years, Charity. Not for very long now,” he said, his voice low as he, too, leaned toward her. Their arms brushed on the table, and she blushed at that touch, thinking of how much she wished for his arm to be around her again.
She had a plan though. The next time he pleasured her, she was determined to make him share in that thrill too.
“And why ever is that? You had attended the ball hosted by my father, did you not?” she pressed.
“That… was an exception. Not a rule. Ever since I lost my parents, I have not had any desire to attend balls, soirees, and the like.”
His words made her halt.
“I am sorry,” she murmured softly.
“Don’t be,” he urged, shifting a little so that his arm no longer brushed hers. She felt the absence of his touch remarkably. “It is just not what I do, Charity. That is all.”
“May I confess something to you too?” she whispered. She reached forward, trying to grasp for her glass, though she nearly knocked it over by mistake. Seth caught it with ease and pressed it into her hand. The easy way in which he took care of her without forethought never ceased to warm her heart.
By now, at home, her father would have muttered something angrily about how irritating it was that she could not see to pick up her own glass. Here, her shortcomings never seemed to matter.
“Of course. What is the confession?” Seth encouraged.
“My brother and sister have always been so preoccupied. They fill their lives with pastimes and hobbies. Kenneth now runs my father’s club, and Edith is always throwing parties for the ton, as a hostess,” she trailed off. “…I thought I might like to one day,” she finished in a smaller voice.
“Host a party?”
After a heartbeat, she nodded uneasily. “I realize it is an absurd notion, for one who is sightless,” she hastened to add. “But I always wondered what all the excitement and fuss was about. Edith always took so much enjoyment from it… I thought I might too.”
A hand suddenly captured hers just as she put down her glass. Seth lifted her hand into the air and gently turned it over. His lips did not seek her palm but the inside of her wrist, in such an intimate kiss that she was quite transfixed, thinking only of that sensation of his lips brushing her skin.
“You have been confined in that house for much too long,” he remarked, a hint of dark irritation evident in his tone. “Did your father permit you any freedom?”
“Not much.” She wrinkled her nose. “He did not read to me, as you do, so I had to ask the maid who could not read very fluently. Edith used to read to me when we were very young, and my mother, when she was alive, always made time.” She smiled wistfully at the thought, missing her mother’s company more than she could put into words. “There were many things I wanted to do but my father thought them bad ideas.”
“Such as? Tell me, please,” Seth encouraged. He released her hand, but the sounds of his chair scraping closer toward hers were unmistakable. They ended up leaning on the table together, so near that their arms brushed against each other fully now.
“I yearned to attend musical soirees or the opera, to revel in the music, yet he feared me being observed by high society, I think. When I found the courage to broach the subject of visiting the theater to experience the works of Shakespeare, he merely scoffed.” She lowered her sightless gaze in embarrassment, recalling the belittling sound. “He did not really see how I would understand the story without being able to see the performers.” She hesitated once more, gathering her thoughts. “Truthfully, what I wanted most was something as simple as riding a horse, but he came down firmly on that one. He refused every time I asked, never even entertaining the possibility.”
“Never?” Seth’s voice pitched higher.
“He would not let me host a party at our house either, and always insisted Edith did the arrangements alone. I thought that maybe, someday, I could do it.” She shrugged, not wanting to push Seth into something he did not want to do, but at the same time, hoping he might understand why she desired such simple things in life after being denied them for so long.
He sighed, so close was he, that she felt the warm air brush against the loose tendrils of her hair. He appeared to think for a moment, then there was the sound of crumpled paper as he took something from seemingly out of his pocket.
“I fear hosting or attending a ball at this time may not be wise, even if I could bring myself to warm up to the idea. After all, the fewer people who know of our betrothal, the greater chance we have of keeping you hidden from your father until we are wed.”
Her spine crumpled a little, knowing he was right.
“Yet… perhaps there is something wecoulddo.” The paper rustled once more, as if he was re-examining it. “This right here is the invitation to the ball I received today. It is for a masquerade ball. You and I could go, and I rather think we could mask your identity quite well at such an event.”
“Who is the invitation from?”
