Miss Lyons picked up a glass of punch. It hovered in the air between them, encased in her delicate fingers. I watched as Miss Kellaway grabbed the base of the glass. She tugged hard, pulling it from Miss Lyons’s grip.
And then she tipped the contents all over the front of her dress.
Chapter Seven
ALICE
Charlotte’s gasp was even louder than I had anticipated. But it wasn’t until I saw the orange droplets of punch dripping down the front of her gown that I realized what I had done.
I had lost my temper.
Such a thing only happened on the rarest of occasions. It was rare enough that I could count each incident with the fingers of one hand, and nearly all of them had involved Charlotte.
The first time she had caused me to lose my temper had been near the beginning of our friendship. We had been no older than ten years old, and she had begged to borrow one of my favorite dolls. I had allowed it, since she had claimed that her mother never gave her dolls to play with. It was the prettiest thing I owned, a sweet fabric face wrapped in perfect golden curls and a silver embroidered dress. After a few weeks, I had finally convinced Charlotte to return it to me, but she confessed that she had left the doll too close to the fireplace, and it had burned into a pile of ashes.
I had been angry but forgiving.
Two months later though, I found the doll in Charlotte’s room, entirely unharmed. She had lied in an attempt to steal her from me. If there was anything I couldn’t tolerate from a friend, it was lying.
Charlotte’s face came into focus as the anger behind my eyes dissipated. Her jaw was lowered, her eyes wild with dismay.
I stood frozen, my hand still gripping the empty glass of punch. After I had tugged her away from Mr. Croft, she had been bold enough to ask me to confess to my ‘lie’ about the horse. But Millie was indeed my horse, and Charlotte had no right to claim her. “Mr. Croft asked me to dance before you interrupted us,” I had said, to which Charlotte had replied, “Then you must pretend to be ill so he asks me instead.”
Of course I had refused.
And then she had called me a horrible friend.
And that had outraged me more than anything. No one had ever tried to be friends with Charlotte butme. No one cared for her happiness more than I did, not even her own family. How dare she be so cruel? This wasn’t about Mr. Croft anymore.
My heart stung as I watched Charlotte mop the punch from her chest with her hand. My face burned hot, and my voice was lodged in my throat. Anger still pulsed through my veins, but my senses were pouring back to me. How many of the other attendees had witnessed the scene I had just made?
With an enraged glare, Charlotte rushed away from the table. I could already see Mama heading toward us, and I could only imagine the scolding I would receive from her later. This one mistake—one childish display—could make me the gossip of town tomorrow. All it took was one witness…and here there were far more than just one.
My stomach twisted when I caught Mr. Croft’s gaze. He looked entirely dismayed. No, worse than that. Appalled. Hemust have seen the entire thing unfold. A few drips of punch ran down my arm as I set the cup on the table and followed Charlotte. My legs shook. Why had I allowed her to make me so discomposed? I bit the inside of my lip to hold my emotions at bay.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mama asked in a hushed voice.
I waited, expecting Charlotte to spill every detail of my villainous actions, but instead, she wore a calm expression. “I am quite mortified,” she said with a sigh. “I spilled my punch all over myself and now my dress is soiled.”
I held my breath, my pulse racing in my ears. Why was she not blaming me?
Mama frowned, a look of compassion entering her gaze. “Oh, dear. We shall take you home straight away. Alice, will you fetch Edmund? He may stay if he wishes but tell him that we will be taking our leave.”
My cheeks cooled at the icy look Charlotte shot in my direction.
She was still furious. I did agree that it was best that Mama not know that we had been fighting—especially that we had been fighting over Mr. Croft. I folded inward with embarrassment at my actions—my silly, immature, pathetic actions. I had been friends with Charlotte for long enough that I should have known how to keep my temper in check around her. But I had been so pleased and happy to soon be dancing with Mr. Croft. Now, I would have to tell him that I was leaving the ball. My face burned as I noticed that he and Edmund were speaking. I would have to face them at the same time. Had Edmund seen what I had done with the punch?
I approached slowly. Mr. Croft’s gaze flickered in my direction.
I refused to look at him until after I had delivered Mama’s message to Edmund. My throat was dry as I tried to swallow. “Edmund, Mother sent me to tell you that we are taking our leave. You may stay if you wish, but we cannot.”
He gave me a confused look, but I turned away before he could ask any questions.
I lifted my eyes to Mr. Croft’s face. “Forgive me, but I’m unable to stay for our dance.” I wet my lips. “Th-there is an urgent matter that can only be addressed at home.”
I could hardly hold his gaze. Those coffee-brown eyes were as aloof as before…but this time it did seem intentional. Charlotte might have ruined everything for me. I had certainly made matters worse on my own, but if she hadn’t interrupted our conversation with her lies about the countryside, Mr. Croft and I could have been beginning our dance that very moment.
Couples lined up in the center of the ballroom, and the orchestra began playing the first notes of my favorite country dance. I saw Mr. Croft’s head decline in understanding, but he didn’t utter a word.
