He gripped her elbow as if to steady her, but he seemed to be the one in need of support. The smell of liquor on his breath suggested he’d been drinking the better part of the evening. “What do we have here?” he asked with a gleam in his eye that she didn’t care for. “A pretty little bird, eh?”
“Good evening, Lord Delbert.”
He drew back to study her more closely, his brow furrowed. “Have we met?”
“Of course. The Marquess of Linford is my brother.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Lady Eliza?” He stepped back, though didn’t release her, and looked her over from head to toe. “Haven’t you become a beauty.”
The way he said it made her feel anything but.
She managed a polite smile as she attempted to pull herself free to no avail. “If you’ll excuse me, I must find my aunt.”
Though it was a lie, she wanted to make it clear she wasn’t alone.
“Not so fast. Surely you can spare a moment or two for an old friend.”
They had never been friends. In fact, Winston didn’t care for him either last she’d heard. Delbert had a mean streak that he rarely bothered to suppress. Winston had shared a story or two from their university days that were enough to make her shudder. Anyone who used their position in the world to get what they wanted would never have her respect.
“Perhaps another time.” With that, she jerked her arm free.
The movement was enough to send him off balance given his inebriated state. Delbert sober was trying enough. Delbert drunk was another matter entirely.
He muttered a protest—or was it a curse?—as she hurried away. She’d often wondered what Philip thought of him. Did he know how often his cousin acted poorly?
After finding a maid in the retiring room who managed to smooth most of the wrinkles from her skirts, she returned to the ballroom and Aunt Frieda’s side.
“Where have you been?” her aunt whispered in an angry tone.
“I had a mishap with my gown that required repair and have been in the retiring room.” At least it was partly true.
“Your gown?” The horror in her aunt’s tone as she looked over Eliza might’ve been comical if it didn’t show how concerned she was about her purchases.
Eliza was careful to brush the side of the fabric that hadn’t been crushed to draw her aunt’s eye there. “I think the maid did an excellent job.”
“Hmm.” Her aunt studied the gown a moment longer. “I do hope so.”
“What did I miss?” Eliza asked as she glanced around the ballroom.
“Very little, although I did enjoy a brief conversation with Lady Oxley, the mother of the Graham sisters.”
“Oh?” Eliza braced herself to hear what her aunt learned.
“Three daughters to find husbands for.” Her aunt shook her head. “Can you imagine? The expense alone would be daunting.” She leaned close. “Lady Oxley mentioned how distraught her eldest daughter is. She was to marry the heir to the Duke of Trentworth before he died, you know.”
“A sad story, isn’t it?” Eliza’s heart ached for the lady. To have happiness within reach only to have it jerked away was tragic.
“Lady Oxley said she doesn’t like to say for certain, but she and her husband hope the new duke will choose to follow in his brother’s footsteps.”
Eliza masked her concern. Though it was probably obvious to those watching that Philip was spending time with the sisters, it seemed wrong of Lady Oxley to say such things when it fanned the flames of gossip, not to mention that it placed unfair pressure on Philip.
Family had always been important to him, but she dearly hoped he would make his own choice and keep his future happiness in mind.
Suddenly, the chance of her having a future with him seemed even further out of reach. She searched the ballroom for him, certain he must’ve returned by now.
She found him, her heart squeezing at the sight of him speaking with the three Graham sisters across the room. Lady Oxley beamed with delight at whatever was being said.
Perhaps the kiss they’d shared on the terrace hadn’t been as exciting for him as it had been for her. The thought was upsetting. Did she give up on her plan? The last thing she wanted to do was place more pressure on him.
