With a sigh, Frances left the two of them to look in the room where light refreshments would be served, pleased to see everything in place. Flutes awaited chilled bottles of champagne. Pitchers of tart lemonade were available as well. Small sandwiches, fancy biscuits, and frosted petit fours would be set out later in the evening.
When she returned to the ballroom, the chamber orchestra had arrived and were unpacking their instruments to warm up.
Tibby and Captain Shaw entered the ballroom and looked around with smiles. Tibby clapped her gloved hands as she hurried toward Frances. “It looks even better than I expected, don’t you think?”
“It does,” Frances agreed as she followed her friend’s gaze.
“You look beautiful, Frances.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
Tibby’s gown of emerald green trimmed in gold set off her dark hair and smooth skin to perfection. Then again, Tibby glowed with happiness and looked beautiful no matter what she wore of late.
Frances drew a slow breath to help settle her anxiousness. “Now, we need only make certain everything goes smoothly.”
“I have no doubt that it will. We’ve gone over everything and checked it twice.” Tibby touched Frances’ arm. “All those who attend will be in the Christmas spirit from the moment their carriage draws to a halt in the front.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Captain Shaw said as he joined them. “Well done, ladies. The donations will soon be rolling in.”
“Let us hope so.” Frances smiled but her nerves had yet to calm. She didn’t think they would until Thomas arrived—if he did.
Soon the other league members came in, and a flurry of laughter and conversation ensued. Frances was filled with gratitude for her friends and their unwavering support.
Guests trickled and then began to flood in. The brightly colored gowns of the ladies, many of whom wore red or green, added to the festive air. The orchestra began to play, and Frances greeted one guest after another, thanking them for coming and mentioning the training at the workhouse as often as possible. Everyone seemed genuinely interested in the program, which thrilled her.
“Who are you and where have you put shy Frances?” a familiar feminine tone asked from her side.
She turned to see Phoebe standing beside her. “She remained at home because there isn’t time for that sort of behavior this evening.”
Phoebe laughed. “I’m so impressed.” She lifted a brow. “Does that mean the question of Mr. Sinclair has been resolved?”
“No. Not yet at least,” Frances amended. “I don’t believe he’s arrived.” Despite how busy she’d been, she’d kept a close eye on the entrance. A glance at the tall clock in the corner revealed the ball had been underway for nearly an hour. Surely, he would’ve come by now if he was going to.
Her heart sank at the thought, unable to believe that he wouldn’t attend when he knew how important this evening was to her. Perhaps he didn’t care for her after all.
“Miss Melbourne? May I have the honor of a dance?”
She turned to see Lord Furling and Lord Newcomb behind her, both with eager smiles on their faces. Behind them were two other gentlemen watching her with interest. Word of her increased dowry had obviously spread.
The sight of them only made her more certain what—or rather, who—she wanted. Thomas. With a smothered groan, she forced a smile. Where on earth could he be?
Chapter Seventeen
Thomas arrived at The Pavilion late for the ball much to his dismay. He’d spent the past two hours watching the dock where Harris was to bring the children to board the ship, according to a message from Dilby.
But neither Harris nor the children had arrived.
Dilby sent a lad to the dock to tell him there had been a change in plans and Harris wouldn’t be moving the children until morning.
Thomas had rushed home to change into his evening attire, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing Frances again. Of dancing with her. Of coaxing a smile from her. Of convincing her that her dowry didn’t matter, only she did. Because she held his heart, and he could no longer imagine his future without her.
Unfortunately, his arrival was delayed even more by the long line of carriages waiting for guests to alight. He hopped out as soon as The Pavilion was in sight, eager to go inside.
“Mr. Sinclair.”
Thomas turned to see one of his father’s grooms running towards him and muttered a curse under his breath at the slip of paper in the servant’s hand.
“This arrived just after you left, sir,” the man said.
