“Who?” she asked him.
“I think you mistook this gentleman for me. I am ready for our dance.”
“We already danced,” she reminded him. “We cannot again so quickly, or tongues will wag. Next thing you know, people will be talking about us as if we kissed in a rose garden.”
Giggling, Delia yelped when he grabbed her arm and dragged her back to her cousin.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, pulling free.
“Saving you from a scandal.”
She looked back to where the gentleman still stood. “A scoundrel!Washe?”
“A scandal,” Lord Perish said confusingly.
“I only wanted to dance. Now he thinks me that odious Miss Laramie.”
“There is no Miss Laramie.”
Delia thought that was funny, too, and laughed heartily.
“She needs some fresh air,” he told Frances. “Or perhaps you should take her to Lady Osbourne’s townhouse.”
“Perish the thought,” Delia said. “Perish! Perish?” Everything was hilarious. But then her stomach twinged uncomfortably. “I amnotleaving. I was frightfully hot earlier, but I’m fine now.” If only the room would stop spinning.
Frances watched all this with a disapproving expression before stating, “You are behaving a little strangely.”
“You wanted me to dance,” Delia reminded her. Sadly, the pleasant floating sensation had diminished, and she was growing tired. Yet still, the spinning sensation increased. “In fact, you ordered me to dance. Your words were something along the lines of ‘don’t you dare behave like a wallflower.’”
“Yes,” Frances agreed, looking abashed at Lord Perish. “But I didn’t mean you should become a waggish jade.”
“A jade!” Delia declared. “That man over there,” she gestured to where he’d been standing, “was rude. He ought to have danced with me.”
“You’ve become a little rattle-pated,” Frances continued. “You’re probably hungry. I told you to eat something.”
“When did she last eat?” Lord Perish asked. “I didn’t see her at Lady Osborne’s table before we left.”
Frances shook her head. “She didn’t eat anything all day due to a case of the nerves.”
“You two are speaking as though I am not here.” All at once, her skin grew clammy. “I feel sick,” Delia muttered, then her mouth started to water, a sure sign she would disgrace herself in the near future.
“Nothing to eat?”
“All day.”
“That’s idiotic. How did she think she would have the strength to dance?”
“It was her nerves! She couldn’t.”
“She drank half my flask of brandy.”
“I had no idea!”
They were blathering on, and Delia knew she would cast up her stomach’s contents in mere seconds. In a panic, she ran toward the ballroom’s entrance, knowing there was a retiring room off the main passageway.
If only the place wasn’t so crowded. Shoving her way through the throng, nearly at the exit, she heard her cousin calling after her.
And then, her stomach heaved. There was nothing she could do except lean over and try to keep her gown out of the way.
