Rather than being put off, Mr. Frank Colbert gave a smile of his own. His teeth were a tad crooked, but it only served to make him appear more approachable than the demigod he’d seemed to be when crossing the ballroom. “I am unsurprised. Have you any dances available?”
How could she say that every one of her dances was available, excepting the next? She did not want to appear undesirable. “The quadrille, perhaps?”
His smile grew. “Wonderful. I shall collect you when it is to begin.”
She felt capable of taking a full breath when he was again out of sight. A man had never had such an effect on her; she felt rather windblown. It nearly had her on board with her guardian’s marriage scheme—if it were so easy to change her mind. Which it was not.
“And he, Lord Tarrington? Would he be a good match?” The words came out a bit more facetious than she’d intended.
Lord Tarrington grunted, his eyes narrowed as he watched the man’s retreating form. “Well enough. Though he’s a bit young. And a second son to a viscount. But set up well for a career in the law, which is admirable, I suppose.”
“Admirable, indeed,” Lydia muttered. Tarrington was immensely open with information regarding every potential marriage partner but tight-lipped about her own past.
Mr. Belcher was a surprisingly nimble partner and probably outshone Lydia in the reel. Though he said “capital” perhaps a bit excessively and sweat beaded atop his forehead, Lydia enjoyed their dance. But soon it was over, and Mr. Frank Colbert was waiting for her beside Lord Tarrington.
She half expected her arm to fill with feeling when she placed it on his, but there was no such reaction. No tingle of sensation up to her heart. No fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She still stood a little straighter knowing she was on his arm. Knowing that a handful of heads turned their way as they passed.
“Have you been in London long, Miss Faraday?” Mr. Frank Colbert took his place along with the other six individuals making up their set.
“I arrived only this week.”
He raised his brows. “And yet I have not had the fortune of crossing your path before now?”
The music started up. “This is, in fact, my first ball.”
“Have you had the chance to enjoy other aspects of London before now?”
“I have strolled a street or two.” If the street where her carriage had broken a wheel counted. And ifstrolledcould be stretched to include a handful of steps.
“Have you been to the opera, Hyde Park, the theater... Gunter’s?”
“No. I have not.”
She expected him to be incredulous, but he simply raised a corner of his mouth and said in a smooth voice, “We shall have to remedy that.”
It was no invitation, but it was nearly one.
Thiswas how she’d expected her first ball to go. Whether or not she wished to participate in Lord Tarrington’s matchmaking schemes, shehadanticipated that she would be successful in whatever she decided. Perhaps she could scrub the earlier part of the evening from her recollections as one might scrub a dish.
Lydia took care with her steps, afraid to miss a figure, but managed to continue the pleasant conversation throughout. The first dance concluded, and they set themselves up for another. Her shoulders and neck were beginning to ache. For someone who helped with tenants’ laundry regularly, she ought to have found it easy to stand with perfect posture, but it seemed to utilize different strengths to keep one’s shoulders back and chin tilted. And the room was so stuffy and hot. Surreptitiously, she pulled in air through her teeth, trying to fill her lungs. This sort of exercise was unusual to her as well. She’d not even learned these dances until a month or two before and hadn’t had many opportunities for practice. The reel had wearied her, but if she’d had a moment’s respite, she would have rallied.
As it was, she was hoping the few moments between dances would be enough. Mr. Frank Colbert had turned to speak to the person beside him, but as she watched, he flashed a smile in her direction. She returned it as best she could, furtively dragging in more air, but it was not altogether fresh. The scents of bodies, punch, food... all of it mingled in an unpleasant way.
The music began. Over the heads of some of the dancers, Lydia saw the open doors to a terrace. Might she convince Mr. Frank Colbert to forgo their second dance?
But he was already stepping toward her, beginning the first figure. She bolstered herself—one more dance would not do her in. She was a strong and capable woman. She would not be outdone by a ball.
Her steps were not so buoyant, and she missed one or two, but it should not have been too obvious. Mr. Frank Colbert was pleasant and his expression kind and open. At the end of their set, he simply returned her to Lord Tarrington.
Lord Tarrington paid her no mind—probably seeking out her next dance partner—but she had rather more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. Namely, her inability to breathe.
“Lord Tarrington, I think... I will take some air.”
He grunted in his usual fashion, and that would have to do. With an unsteady nod in his direction, she made for the open doors. It was not easy, but she was determined. More than a few elbows might have been thrown. More than one shoulder was jostled. But she arrived not a moment too soon. Fresher air met her face, and she drew in a ragged breath, reaching for the balustrade to lean against.
When she had finally regained some composure, though each breath still pulled uncomfortably at her chest, she looked around. The terrace was full of people—many spilling down into the walled gardens below. None had infiltrated her shadowy corner, but the idea of going back inside where even morecongregated was near painful. Did people actually enjoy this sort of event? Being squashed together with all their warmth and scents mingling? It did not seem particularly appealing to someone used to gallivanting around the countryside.
She glanced over her shoulder at the ballroom. Strains of music colored the spaces between conversation around her. Her temples ached. Her breathing was still not altogether normal, but the sight of so many young men and women provided such a distinct contrast to what her life a month before had looked like that she forgot her breathing difficulties for a moment.
