The number ends and suddenly older gentlemen start to seep out of the crowd of onlookers, beckoning to the debutantes. Beth feels her eyebrows crease. There can’t be that many unwed older bachelors. Mother promised men like Lord Psoris would be an anomaly.
Gwen waves to her father and Beth startles. Of course, the father-daughter dance.
“Are you okay alone here?”
Beth blinks and looks up to find Gwen watching her with perhaps too much understanding in her gaze. “Of course. Go, go,” Beth says quickly, taking Gwen’s brandy glass and nudging her toward the floor.
Gwen steps off, glancing back at her even as she reaches the floor. Almost all the girls seem to have someone to dance with and Beth slumps against the wall, hiding from the thought. Not that her father would have deigned to come tonight if he were alive. He would have said her name was enough; he didn’t need to waste his time.
She watches the couples begin to dance to the lively waltz and swallows the last of Gwen’s brandy. The warmth down her throat does little to fix the clench in her stomach. She doesn’t miss him. But she’s still sad.
Gwen and her father chat as they dance, both of them grinning. He keeps dipping her with a silly smile and Gwen looks delighted. Beth feels that knot moving from her stomach to her chest. She can’t remember a single time her father looked at her that way, if he bothered to look at all. Not the son he wanted, that’s all she ever was.
“I see you listened.”
Beth jumps, turning to find Mother at her side, already plucking the brandy from her hand and frowning at Beth’s nearly empty wineglass.
“I’m fine,” Beth says. She is. Any remaining giddiness from the alcohol has faded. Now that Gwen’s gone, all she feels is exhausted and melancholy. “How are your friends?”
Mother maintains her disapproval for a moment before sighing and leaning back into the wall with her. “Horrid. Yours?”
“She’s nice,” Beth says, nodding toward the dance floor. Mother tracks her gaze and then stiffens just as the waltz ends. “Mother?”
But she’s distracted as she notices Gwen dragging her father toward them. Mother straightens up, grabbing Beth’s wine and putting both glasses hastily onto a side table before adjusting her hair.
“Father, this is my new friend, Miss Demeroven, and this must be her mother?”
Mother just stares at Gwen’s father, who’s staring right back, both of them pale, eyes wide.
“Yes,” Beth steps in, gently nudging her mother. “This is my mother, Lady Demeroven. A pleasure to meet you both.”
“Yes,” Mother says slowly, standing tall. “Yes. Lord Havenfort and I are acquainted already, actually. Though I’ve yet to meet your new friend.”
“This is Lady Gwen,” Beth says, watching as Gwen curtsies to her mother. Lord Havenfort is still staring like a gaping fish.
“We should be getting home. Lovely to meet you,” Mother says, giving Gwen a forced smile as she grabs Beth’s arm. “Lord Havenfort,” she adds, nodding to the man.
“Lady Demeroven,” Lord Havenfort says, his voice high.
Mother drags Beth away as she and Gwen exchange baffledlooks. “Mother,” Beth protests, but she just keeps marching forward.
Beth would argue or hold her back, but she’s too busy trying to avoid knocking anyone over. Mother bulls ahead, leading her through the throngs of avid partygoers, uncaring of who she bumps with her skirts, dragging Beth up and out of the ballroom.
“Mother,” Beth insists as they clear the upper landing and hustle into the main foyer of the ridiculous Halyard estate. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Mother says tersely, nodding in thanks as the stewards open the front gates for them, revealing a line of waiting coaches. They must be some of the first people to leave. “We’ve calls to make in the morning.”
“You said we’d have a lie-in,” Beth says, frowning as Mother hurries her into the first hired carriage. “And I’d have liked more time with Gwen.”
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to socialize with your new friend at the next event, though you should put more effort into meeting some of the young men, the whole reason we’re here,” Mother says stiffly as she settles into her seat and the coach takes off.
Beth just stares at her mother, utterly baffled. “Mother, what’s—”
“I have a headache, darling, please,” Mother says, closing her eyes, conversation over.
Beth watches her mother sit there, refusing to speak, head tilted back, breathing forcefully. She’s never seen her mother this way outside of their home. Irritated, yes. Exhausted, yes, but this—this is panic. Whatever happened between her mother and Lord Havenfort before tonight clearly wasn’t good.
Chapter Two
