When she looked behind Elizabeth, she saw a young lord approaching them. Hope rose in her chest as she saw that his eyes seemed to be on her.
“Good evening to you, Lady Lucy,” he greeted. “Your Graces.”
Polite greetings were exchanged, and Lucy found herself standing straighter and taller.”
“Lord Beecham!” a lady Lucy vaguely remembered greeted the young lord.
The lady was about her age but wore more fashionable silks, and her mahogany-colored hair was twisted into an elegant updo.
“I was looking for you, Lady Arabella!” Lord Beecham replied enthusiastically. “May I have the honor of this next dance?”
“But of course, my lord,” Lady Arabella giggled, as they joined hands and merrily walked to the middle of the room.
In the corner of Lucy’s eye, she could see Joshua dancing with a young countess. At least someone had found a match of sorts.
She sighed.
“Oh, Lucy. He’s not such a great loss,” murmured Elizabeth.
“Dance with us, lass!” Alasdair encouraged. “Nobody will question the ways of the Scottish.”
“No, please, Your Graces,” Lucy said, trying to control her voice from trembling. “Go and dance with your guests. I am perfectly happy here.”
They tried once more, but Lucy was insistent. She didn’t want to be pitied. She could handle some more time in her corner. When they moved away, she felt her isolation even more. To make matters worse, she saw them.
Lady Cecily and her group of mean ladies were lingering by the refreshment table. She wondered if they were standing there because it was the perfect spot to watch where she was. But that was—that was ridiculous!
Still, the young women, each linked with a handsome partner, watched her with predatory stares. Cecily leaned in to whisper to the young lord she had managed to win for the night. The man looked Lucy up and down and burst into laughter.
It was cruelly direct. Lucy clenched her fists at the thought of having to spend more time being the object of people’s cruel jests.
When she gave herself the opportunity to think about her situation, the walls seemed to shrink around her. The high collar of her dress felt like it was strangling her. She could not breathe.
All around her was laughter and heat. She could not take it anymore. Her hand pulling her collar down, she turned on her heel and bolted.
Young, unmarried, and unchaperoned women should not be running outside the houses during parties, especially not at night. Yet the thought never came to her. All she knew was that she needed to breathe.
In the garden, she swallowed gulps of cold air. The chill soothed her skin, feeling almost like a blessing. She half-stumbled toward the stone fountain, gasping for breath like a true fish out of water. There, she fumbled at the lacing of her bodice, desperate to loosen the fabric. She managed to undo some hooks before she realized what she had done.
“No.”
The library! That same place where Daphne caught her and Daniel in what seemed like a compromising situation. It was hidden enough. It should suffice, and it was close to the side of the house. She could enter unremarked by anyone. Artistic memory made her connect the dots.
Thankfully, the side door was unlocked, perhaps for the ease of entertainment, unless someone had completely forgotten to lock it.
Panting softly but trying not to make noise, she was able to navigate the darkened, narrow hallway. She needed a place to fix her stays. It would be scandalous to be caught looking like she did.
In the library, she hastily tried to take deep breaths before lacing herself as best as she could. It was infinitely more difficult to do so without any assistance, but she somehow managed.
Her hands were still shaking when a voice spoke behind her.
“Lucy?”
She spun around.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
Moonlight framed him from behind, outlining his broad shoulders as he stepped into the room. Concern was written plainly across his face as his gaze swept over her disheveled state.
