"She is no more your responsibility than mine," Darcy said.
I fidgeted with the lace on my gown unwilling to meet his eye knowing that he must be regarding me with a look of confused amusement. I was acting strangely, first prickly and now suddenly as timid as Belinda and Henrietta's governess.
"I do not wish to trouble you." Now I even sounded like little Miss Hopkins.
"It is no trouble," Darcy said. And yes, there it was, that look of amused bemusement dancing in his eyes. I knew how he would react to things. The expressions he would make, the words he would speak. I was beginning to knowhim. It was terrible. I must make my escape.
"I will find her.On my own,"I said in a tone that quelled all argument. And then I turned and flounced away in a haughty manner that would have been far more impressive if I had not needed to hobble slightly because of my injured foot.
5 minutes later
Dora must be outside on the balcony. That is the only place I have left to search. And if the conspicuous absence of the (supposedly) Honorable Mr. Farthingham is any indication, Dora must be on the balcony—unchaperoned—with a suitor.
I am the worst chaperon in the world.
To make everything even more terrible than it already is, Sir Sebastian (the man) is currently blocking the French doors that lead to the balcony, meaning I will have to have some manner of interaction with him if I am to find Dora.
In an effort to avoid scandal I have been trying to avoid him (a more difficult task than one would expect). Yet I cannot let him or anyone else think I am avoiding him because to avoid him is to admit guilt. However not to avoid him is tobeguilty because, though I have no particular feelings for the gentleman, it has become apparent he has a special fondness for me or at least wishes to give the impression that he does. Probably more likely the latter. Charming as I am, I think he just enjoys stirring trouble.
"Good evening," I greeted Sir Sebastian, trying to sound polite but not encouraging.
"Isn't it?" he replied cheerfully.
"No, it really isn't, actually. You see, I've lost Dora—"
"Not to worry. Miss Darcy is outside."
"Lovely, so could you just move so I can—"
"Why have you been avoiding me,Mrs. Darcy?" asked Sir Sebastian with emphasis on my martial status. I have come to the conclusion he enjoys flirting with married ladies. What must be a thrill for him could mean absolute ruin for me. A trouble stirrer. That is what he is. Handsome, charming but a trouble stirrer. Why did life have to have so many complications?
"I had things I needed to attend to." I said in the most monitory, Darcy-like tone I could muster.
"What things?" he pressed.
"I've been very busy."
"With what?" Handsome he may be, but good at taking a hint he most certainly is not. I felt my irritation rise.
"With planning a ball, and being a proper chaperon—a mostly adequate chaperon—and not being at all scandalous. And in deference to that latter point, please move, I need to collect Dora."
"I am afraid I cannot. I am playing lookout for Farthingham whilst he romances your lovely Miss Darcy."
"Move," I ordered with sudden urgency.
"They are not up to anything salacious. He is showing her moths."
"Moths?"
"Yes," Sir Sebastian replied simply, as if viewing moths on a balcony during a ball was a perfectly reasonable activity.
"It is December. I have never seen a moth or any other insect in December."
In the sort of breezy tone accomplished liars use to speak absolute nonsense, Sir Sebastian said, "They are rare Arctic lunar moths seen only on wintry nights during—"
"Move," I interrupted, "Now."
Seeing he had no intention of moving, I fixed upon him with the Penetrating Stare of Madness. Just as I began to despair that I had lost my talent for ocular intimidation his lips trembled—though admittedly that might have been from holding back laughter—and he moved.
