As for this evening?A necessary evil. It was time to face her past. Dammit, it was time to prove that she had changed from a girl into a woman. One who would not cower and hide from thosewho wished her harm, but confront them, stand up to them, prove that she was a true daughter of the peerage and deserving of the life she always dreamed of…
“Oh!” Elizabeth sat up suddenly and shuffled toward the window. “We’re here.”
“Oh no…” Arabella swallowed nervously.
“Nonsense.” Elizabeth slapped playfully at Arabella’s arm. “Tonight will be fun – I promise you that it will be. All you need to do is present an air of confidence, smile and laugh, and look to be enjoying yourself, and most importantly…” She cocked an eyebrow at both women. “Don’t do anything that might invite rumor.”
Margot laughed bitterly. “You make it sound so easy.”
Arabella shifted frantically as the carriage began to slow. Elizabeth took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze to calm her. Margot’s breathing was quick but not labored, and she forced calm upon herself as the carriage came to a gentle stop. That it had been three years since her last ball was strange to think, just as it was to wonder whether this might be her last for another three years, or if things would not be nearly as bad as she presumed.
This is the ton, so likely things will be even worse. Such is the way in which my life is concerned…
“I told you it would not be so bad,” Elizabeth said rightly, a firm nod to confirm the point. “Hardly anyone has even noticed you are here.”
“Are you certain about that?” Margot glanced about the busy ballroom.
“If you look for reasons to complain, you will find them.” Another firm nod of confirmation from Elizabeth. “But as I see it, your reemergence into high society hasn’t caused nearly the stir that you expected.” She snorted. “The way Arabella was carrying on, it was as if she thought the two of you might be tarred and feathered.”
“Perhaps we would have been,” Margot offered. “Was it not for the fact that a good tarring is a messy business, and I doubt anyone would take the risk of ruining their gowns.”
“Oh, that is ridiculous talk.”
“Exaggeration, yes,” Margot agreed. “Besides, who would have thought to bring a pail filled with tar with them? I don’t know what I was worrying about.”
To that, Elizabeth gave her cousin a dismissive eye roll.
Elizabeth was half-right in her assessment of the evening. Indeed, since the three of them had waded their way through the ballroom, hardly a soul had so much as wasted a minute in greeting them… or looking at them… or appearing as if they wished to find themselves anywhere near Margot and Arabella. And that was the problem.
She felt like a pariah. Margot and Elizabeth were standing toward the back of the expansive ballroom, able to see from their place the breadth of the room and its guests. It was a cavalcade of color, a sea of moving bodies, a chorus of laughter and cheer everywhere one looked. Drinks were had. Nibbles were picked at. People danced, moved in groups, circulated the room, and made sure to be seen by their peers, as that was the entire point of these things. And Margot could not help but notice how she was being avoided.
No one wasted time approaching her, but many offered a curious glance, a disdainful glare, and she noticed many heads leaning in and whispering as she passed by.No need to guess what is being said. Although I would rather that they say it to my face.
Perhaps she should have been grateful that she was being ignored, because that felt like a better outcome than the alternative. Yet she could not help but think back to the balls she had attended before the scandal that had ruined her, how fun they had been, how involved she was in them, and how she was always the center of attention in a way that made her feel special.
“Oh my…” Elizabeth said suddenly, taking hold of Margot’s arm.
“What?” Margot looked about, panicking because she sensed the worst about to happen.
“I cannot believe he is here.” Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she cast her gaze across the ball. “Which I suppose is a good thing. Takes the attention away from you.”
“Who? Who is here?”
“Not that the attention needed to be taken off you,” Elizabeth continued. “Still… it provides a nice buffer. Let us call this a happy accident.”
Margot scowled at her cousin. “Who are you speaking of?”
“Who else…” Elizabeth nodded across the ballroom to where Margot could now see a small commotion as guests parted and whispers gathered like a storm. “His Grace, the Duke of Eastmoor.”
Margot had heard of the Duke of Eastmoor – not a surprise, as all women her age had been told of him…and then warned.He was a known rake of the ton, a philanderer and scoundrel, the type of man whose wake was littered with the broken hearts of maidens he’d offered the world to, only to discard them the moment he got what he needed.
That he was here was strange, as Margot had heard he’d left London years ago. Run off on some adventure across Europe,presumably because there were no women left in England for him to savage.
It's typical, really, that a man as repugnant as that can do as he pleases and still show his face without care for what others think. Meanwhile, I make one mistake, and my entire life is ruined because of it.
She watched the duke wade across the ballroom and had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. He was tall with wide shoulders, although not bulky or muscular, rather strong of poise and confident in his stride. His hair was dark, his features sharp, his smile cocksure and arrogant. And where he clearly recognized that there were many eyes watching him with disdain, he did not seem to mind. If anything, he enjoyed it!
“He is rather handsome,” Elizabeth said as she eyed him.
