“Four countesses, two duchesses, three baronesses, and at least one viscountess.”
“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Felicity joked feebly.
Bethany forgot her aching toes, paused for the moment, and studied her friend. “Are you unwell?”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” Felicity’s normally sparkling eyes looked tired. “Perfectly fine.”
Which was at least two ‘fines’ too many.
“Is it Westerley?” Her brother had cried off a betrothal that had been in place for most of their lives. Only the betrothal had been unofficial. Or they’d all thought so. But Bethany hadn’t thought Felicity had been heartbroken over the matter. Perhaps she’d been wrong.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you… pining for him?”
“Heavens no.” Felicity’s answer sounded genuine, but… “It’s been a long day, that’s all.”
“Are you certain?” Bethany asked.
“Certain of what?” Rachel Somerset, of all people, interjected as she dropped onto the adjacent settee. Felicity was one of the more popular young ladies, not only with gentlemen but with other girls on the marriage mart as well. Apparently, Rachel was willing to look beyond Bethany’s circumstances if it meant remaining in Felicity’s favor.
“Nothing.” Felicity answered Rachel’s question, looking more annoyed than Bethany had ever seen her. She replaced her scowl with a brittle smile so quickly, however, that Bethany wondered if she’d imagined it. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”
Rachel was a pretty girl, tall and slim with glossy hair the color of coffee and matching dark eyes. She shrugged. “I suppose. Debut balls can be so tedious, what with most of the attention showered on the debutantes.” She shifted her gaze to Bethany. “And other spectacles.” But then she reached out and covered Bethany’s hand with her own. “Not that you and Lord Chaswick are a spectacle, mind you. But even you must admit that you’ve accomplished quite a coup. Uncanny how you found a way to come off the shelf.”
“Bethany was never on the shelf!” Felicity jumped to her defense. “Besides, it was an accident—as you well know.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and appeared even larger. “I was only joking about that. And of course, it was an accident—a very fortunate one—if I don’t mind saying so. Chaswick could have been waiting for almost anyone, a rake like that. He might as well marry for convenience. No one who knows him would expect him to be the faithful sort.”
Before either Bethany or Felicity could respond to Rachel’s unsettling suggestions, the maddening young woman rose and turned to go. “Felicitations, dear Bethany, and all that. I best look lively now. My partner for the supper dance will be looking for me.”
Felicity watched Rachel flounce away and then mumbled, “She needs to address you as Lady Chaswick now.”
“It’s her nature to be that way. Poor Delia, though.”
Felicity opened her fan and hid a yawn, reminding Bethany of what they’d been discussing in the first place.
“You would tell me if you were unhappy, wouldn’t you?” she persisted. “Or if you were ill?”
Felicity smiled and nodded but then adjusted her fan pointedly. “Your husband is striding purposefully across the room, I believe, to claim you for this set.”
Bethany was going to have to speak privately with Felicity, perhaps when her own situation settled down.
“Chase is a good man, Felicity,” Bethany said softly, hating to have her dear friend think poorly of him. He valued his privacy, though, and she couldn’t really explain the issues with his mother.
“I know.” But Felicity’s agreement seemed more placating than enthusiastic.
“Are you whispering about me?” The moment Chase arrived was oddly reminiscent to just two nights before when he’d caught her sitting with Delia. Only this time he was offering his hand and his eyes were clear and inviting. “I believe this is my dance.”
“Then you would be correct.” Bethany blushed. Because, of course, theyhadbeen whispering about him.
“It’s been a while since I waltzed. I hope I don’t embarrass you.” Chase drew her away from the settee to the center of the floor.
When he faced her, she took his hand in hers, and then stupidly placed her other on his waist.
As though she intended to lead!
Chase smirked and pointedly moved her hand to it’s proper place—his shoulder.
