She felt utterly out of her depths. Attending a country house party was one thing, a lavish London ball, was quite another.
“Your Grace.” A tall slim gentleman approached the dowager and bowed. “Would you be so kind as to present me to this vision in amethyst?”
Caught off guard, Olivia reached up and touched the pendant Louella had given her earlier that day. The gentleman was neither handsome nor ugly, not really old, nor young. But he was indeed a gentleman.
“Lord Richards, may I present Miss Olivia Redfield, eldest daughter to Viscount Hallowell and sister to the Duchess of Crawford? Miss Redfield, Lord Richards.”
Olivia dipped into a curtsey—she’d finally gotten around to practicing—and, upon taking a deep breath, lifted her lashes to meet his gaze.
At first, he seemed somewhat taken aback, and she was afraid he’d make mention of her eye, but after only a moment, his mouth stretched into a charming smile. “I understand the color choice for your gown now. Although it fails to rival the color of your eyes.”
Olivia glanced at Lady Lillian, suddenly at a loss, but when the girl smiled reassuringly, Olivia’s eyes trailed back to Lord Richards. “How very kind, My Lord,” she responded in a soft voice.
“Lady Lillian.” He turned to the other girl. “You are looking as lovely as ever.”
The other girl dropped into a curtsey.
“Am I lucky enough to reserve a set with each of you? Not at the same time, haha.” The man lifted a monocle to one eye, amused at his own joke.
“I believe you are, My Lord.” Lady Lillian offered her dance card and indicated Olivia do the same.
Before the hour was up, both of their cards had a signature scrawled by nearly every line. And of the gentlemen who’d approached her, almost all were fellows she’d never seen before. She glanced around the room and caught her sister’s sly smile. Was this Louella’s doing?
She knew that both Gabriel and his fiancée had been invited. Her sister would feel it her responsibility to ascertain Olivia did not feel neglected.
But where was Gabriel? She hadn’t seen Miss Shipley either. Perhaps they weren’t coming. That would be for the best. And yet, her stupid, gullible, and most undisciplined heart longed for just one glance.
What if Gabriel still ailed from his wound?
She didn’t have much time to contemplate the matter as the first of her partners stepped into her line of vision to claim her for the set.
And then the next, and the next. Only a few of the gentlemen failed to stare into her eyes when they spoke to her. And she did her best to focus all her concentration upon her partners, although she refused the few who dared ask her to walk onto the terrace.
No wonder Gabriel had insisted upon escorting her on that night long ago. He’d realized how horrid so-called gentlemen could be.
The music ended and Olivia curtsied to her partner. “Thank you, My Lord.” He was a lord, wasn’t he? She’d lost track quite some time ago as to who was who, let along who was what.
“It has been my pleasure. I notice you are free for the next dance. Won't you take a turn with me in the garden?”
Olivia was shaking her head before he finished asking. “If you’ll escort me to my chaperones, I think I’ll sit this one out.” But she smiled. Likely he was harmless, one of her younger partners, she guessed based upon the spots on his face, his blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes.
But she could not be sure.
“I asked Gilbert Fellowes to fetch us both lemonades.” Lady Lillian’s cheeks were flushed, and she seemed more animated than Olivia had ever seen her before.
“You are enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, I forgot what fun it was to dance to such magnificent music, in a ballroom.” She smiled and handed Olivia the glass.
The liquid wasn’t very cold, but it was sweet and quenched her thirst.
“Did you hear about poor Kingsley?” Lady Lillian leaned forward to ask.
Olivia’s eyes flew open wide. Had he taken a turn for the worse? It was not possible!
“Miss Shipley jilted him.”
Good Lord, Olivia thought she’d have fainted if she had remained standing. But…
