“But youdolike him. Sir Tristan Brooke. I can tell.”
Hyacinth closed her eyes, dearly wishing she wasn’t blushing like a fool. That was her secret. Sir Tristan Brooke, Emma’s elder brother, occupied her thoughts, her dreams, and an increasingly large piece of her heart.
“Yes, but please let us not speak of it here.”
Marigold laid a gloved hand on her arm. “I pray that tonight he finally asks you to dance.”
Hyacinth managed a smile, despite her speeding pulse and the heat steadily filling her cheeks. Her sister meant well.
“Now, you’d better go and speak to Lord Marchmont,” Hyacinth urged. “He looks as if he’s only seconds away from interrupting if you don’t give him your attention.”
Marigold scoffed. “Then he’s not a gentleman I wish to give my attention to. You matter to me more than he does, than any of them do. And I want you to enjoy yourself this evening. I loathe seeing you standing along wallflower row.”
Hyacinth laughed. “I’ve become quite fond of my spot on the row. And it’s how I met Emma.”
“Your friendship with Miss Brooke is a boon, of course, but do accept if someone asks you to dance. Promise me?”
“I promise.” Hyacinth waved her off gently. “Now go. The first set will begin soon.”
Marigold smiled, squeezed her arm, and turned to find her first dance partner. Lord Marchmont immediately followed in her wake.
Hyacinth never blamed her sister for having the ability to draw others to her like a warm, bright light. Sometimes, she even felt grateful that Marigold attracted all the attention to herself. And her sister was right. There was only one person whose notice Hyacinth truly craved, though she wasn’t quite certain how to capture it.
Hyacinth was mostly excited to visit with Emma. They had found themselves together, lining the edge noble families’ ballrooms many times this Season. But rather than mope or be sad about being on the outskirts, they’d taken to enjoying each other's company.
They had marvelous conversations, giggled far more than was ladylike, and always found ways to divert themselves. Hyacinth sometimes sketched in her journal while Emma read. They had a great deal in common because Emma, like Hyacinth, was not interested in novels or magazines. They shared an interest in science.
Emma came from a family of scientists. Their mother had been an amateur astronomer of some acclaim. Her father had once taught chemistry at London University, and her brother… Well, her brother was extraordinary. A paleontologist who had gained such renown in the field that he had been bestowed with a knighthood by Queen Victorian herself.
Though Hyacinth never attracted suitors like her sister, the truth was that no gentleman had ever had a chance to catch Hyacinth’s notice because Sir Tristan Brooke existed.
He was a brilliant scholar, a wonderful orator, and any time he entered a ballroom, her breath tangled in her throat while she tried, and failed, not to stare at him like a ninny. Of course, he could not be surprised to find ladies’ gazes on him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that always looked perfectly disheveled, as if he had the habit of running his fingers through it while he worked. His eyes were the color of the sky on the brightest day of summer, and his voice was deep enough for its rumble to make her shiver.
Hyacinth had attended three of his lectures so far. And, of course, she had been introduced to him when he’d come over to speak to Emma. She’d never felt more awkward than she hadin that moment. Her whole body had vibrated, and her mind emptied of everything she wished to say.
She’d managed to be polite—she hoped—but the memory remained a bit of a blur.
Yet, as with other gentlemen, his eyes didn't linger on her. Since their introduction, they'd only met a handful of times when he’d approached wallflower row to speak to his sister.
Emma had invited her to visit their home in the countryside at the end of the Season, but Hyacinth had yet to accept.
Her feelings toward Sir Tristan were a conundrum. Even spotting him across a ballroom made her whole body warm. Yet watching him dance with others left her feeling hollow. She didn’t know if she could spend a fortnight in the same country house with him and have his gaze pass over her again and again.
“I was hoping you’d be here.” Emma came up alongside her with a bright smile on her face. “Oh, but you look a bit out of sorts. May I help in some way?”
“No, I promise that I’m quite all right.” Hyacinth gestured toward the side of the Beckfords’ ballroom. “Shall we find a prime spot?”
They headed toward the area where a few other wallflowers had gathered.
“I’ve brought a little book of poetry that fits in my pocket tonight,” Emma said. “Lord Arthur Cartwright gifted it to me.”
Hyacinth tipped her head and smiled. “Lord Cartwright seems a very kind gentleman. And quite charming and amiable. You’re fond of him?”
“Possibly.” Emma’s blush said it was not just possible but very likely. “He’s acquainted with Tristan, so I am going to insist that he is invited to the house party. Please say you’ll come, and Marigold too, and the duke and duchess.”
Hyacinth’s sister and brother-in-law were the Duke and Duchess of Edgerton, and it was the reason she and Marigoldhad been afforded such a lavish Season and provided with sizable dowries.
“Do you know that gentleman?” Emma indicated across the room with the direction of her gaze.
