She hasn’t come up with a good second plan to force Father and Lady Demeroven together without them coming to fisticuffs. But she hopes she and Beth can steal away tonight. It’s been a long, unpleasant week without her friend, and she’s desperate to get some good time in with her tonight.
As soon as they’re in the respectably sized Smith ballroom, Gwen cranes her neck, looking for Beth. It’s really annoying how she disappears into a crowd, so petite.
“They’re over there,” Father says, nudging Gwen so she turnsto spot Lady Demeroven and Beth waiting just to the side of the foyer, near the curved entrance staircase. She missed them on the way in.
“Will you come say hello?” Gwen asks.
Father shakes his head. “No, no, you go. I’ve business to attend to this evening. The Matrimonial Causes Act has to pass, and I’ve palms to grease.”
Gwen just nods, letting him step away. He looks practically gleeful, heading for whatever statesman he thinks he can fell to his will.
But Gwen’s not interested in the rights of divorce tonight. Tonight, she’s going to sweep Beth away and they’ll plot their next attack, and hopefully get gloriously drunk in the meantime. It’s been such a long week.
Gwen scurries over to Beth and Lady Demeroven. Beth spots her and taps her mother’s arm where their elbows are linked. Both women look beautiful. Beth’s in a gorgeous blue gown, her dark hair piled atop her head with stylized curls falling to frame her face. There’s lace all over her dress and she’s wearing higher heels, her forehead almost at Gwen’s cheek for the first time.
Lady Demeroven looks equally stunning in a darker navy gown, a black sash still around her waist and accented in her gloves. But she hardly looks the brooding widow. In fact, she looks a bit... crazed, watching every entrance to the hall in turn. Gwen’s rather afraid her neck might snap.
“Hello,” Beth says as Gwen finally muscles her way up to them.
“You look beautiful,” Gwen tells her, laughing as Beth flushes. “As do you, Lady Demeroven.”
“Thank you, dear,” Lady Demeroven says. “You look lovely as well. Green becomes you far more than those pastels. Such gorgeous hair.”
Gwen blinks, surprised. “Thank you, my lady.”
Lady Demeroven gives her a quick smile and then continues craning her neck. Gwen takes that as a dismissal and steps to Beth’s side, leaning in so they can talk more quietly as the party bustles around them.
“Who is she looking for?”
“Lord Montson,” Beth says, edging away from Lady Demeroven as much as she can with their arms still linked.
“Whatever for?”
Beth frowns, looking up at her. “You don’t like him?”
Gwen hesitates. There’s nothing wrong with Lord Montson. Not much great about him either. He’s entirely... neutral as a person. “He’s fine,” she hedges.
Beth seems to relax. “Good. He’s asked for my first dance after hitting me in the back with a rugby ball.”
“He hit you?” Gwen asks, grabbing Beth’s hand.
“With a rugby ball,” Beth repeats, loud enough that this time Gwen catches the whole thing. “Terrible shot, apparently.”
Gwen snorts. “And your mother’s letting you dance with him?”
“He asked, and invited us for dinner. Mother thinks it’s a chance at a match,” Beth explains, shifting to rearrange her hoop so they’re closer together.
“I see,” Gwen says, looking out at the overpacked room. “That’s... good.”
“Yes,” Beth agrees, though Gwen hears little enthusiasm there. “So we’re waiting for him to arrive. I think Mother’s worried if I wander off they won’t ever find me.”
“You are tiny,” Gwen agrees, laughing as Beth drops her hand to whack at her arm. “Adorably so.” Beth purses her lips, but Gwen can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Montson’s tall.”
“I know,” Beth says, her smile falling. “I might actually have to dance on his shoes.”
Gwen laughs and takes back Beth’s hand.
“Do you think she’d release you just long enough to get some wine?” Gwen asks, watching as the hall continues to fill, more than enough people to get lost in.
