Olivia did try to ignore the pang of envy that shot through her. How would it feel to be dancing with him? Smiling. Happy. Her palm pressed against his. The memory of their conversation in the library played out in her mind for the hundredth time since they parted. Even in the midst of the excitement of ball preparations, her heart raced and her hands trembled.
But had she misunderstood the meaning behind his words in the library earlier that day? He’d spoken of mending broken bonds and moving forward. How she longed to believe him, but when she saw him with MissStanley, her confidence wavered. Perhaps she’d jumped to a premature conclusion. Most likely he intended the statement professionally instead of romantically. The questions swirling within her almost made her feel ill. Mrs.Milton was right. It was far too warm in here.
Mrs. Milton called to her. While she’d been lost in her own thoughts, a man had approached them and was speaking with Mrs. Milton—a very somber man with mousy hair and a lackluster expression, clad in a coat of very plain, drab wool.
“MissBrannon, may I present Mr.Foster?” Mrs.Milton’s words held authority.
Mr.Foster bowed low. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, MissBrannon. Always a pleasure to have a new face in the area.”
She stood from her seat and curtsied in response.
“Would you care to take to the floor for the next dance?”
Mrs.Milton’s expectant eyes were on her, and she nodded her graying head encouragingly. Olivia had no viable reason to refuse. She placed her gloved hand atop his and followed him to the floor.
She’d not expected to participate in dancing—she’d fully anticipated acting as Mrs.Milton’s companion for the evening. But as the night progressed, Mrs.Milton’s introductions to various local men kept her dance card full. Even with the varied company, she had difficulty truly enjoying herself, for the odd sensation of being so physically close to a stranger made her feel clumsy and awkward.
That—along with the fact that she could not keep her gaze from Mr.Avery.
Chapter31
Tate approached Lucas with two drinks in his hand and extended one toward him. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all evening.”
Lucas took the offered drink but did not drink it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tate nudged Lucas with his elbow. “You look miserable.”
Lucas checked his words before speaking. He’d spent the better part of the last two hours attempting to speak with MissBrannon and simultaneously avoiding MissStanley. “I fear MissStanley has me in her sights tonight. She told me that people are beginning to talk about us.”
“And you believe her?” Tate huffed. “The best way to deal with such things is to ignore it. And I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Look around. The room is full of lovely ladies, and I’m not dancing with a single one. Instead, I’m here talking to the likes of you.”
“You could ask MissStanley,” Lucas quipped.
“Bah.” Tate shook his head. “She’s far too clever for me. Knowing my luck I’d end up engaged by the time the evening is over and have no idea how it happened.”
Lucas chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve no wish to be cruel, but this is getting out of hand.”
“It will blow over.”
“Comforting words indeed.”
“Isn’t that what you come to me for? Comfort and advice?”
And thenshecaught his eye.
Lucas had caught glimpses of MissBrannon throughout the evening. Dancing with this man. Talking with that one. It was all innocent, he knew—introductory interactions arranged by Mrs.Milton.
But now he saw her walking without Mrs.Milton toward the veranda.
“I’ll find you later.” Lucas pushed past Tate.
“Where are you going?”
Lucas did not stop.
“Avery!” Tate called. “Where are you going?”
Lucas waved him off and headed toward the veranda. He would not let this opportunity pass.
