“Will you dance, Miss Taylor?” Lachlan hastily turned toward the least objectionable of Lady Joanna’s friends, and offered her his arm. He didn’t have any interest in dancing with her, but he hadn’t liked the look on Lady Joanna’s face just now. If she intended to cause Hyacinth some mischief, he wanted to be nearby to put a stop to it.
Miss Taylor simpered her agreement and took his arm, and Lachlan led her out to the floor. They took up positions behind Miss Tilbury and her partner, who were placed just behind Lady Joanna and Lord Sydney, who were at the top of the set. Hyacinth and Lord Chester were several places below him.
Lady Joanna called a country dance, the music swelled, and Lord Sydney led Lady Joanna in a series of lively steps down the long line of couples. When Miss Tilbury and her partner went down the line, Lachlan could see that lady’s face was alight with spiteful anticipation, but he still didn’t see anything amiss. It appeared to be a typical country dance.
That is, it did until Lord Chester led Hyacinth down the row.
That was when Lachlan saw it.
Everyone saw it.
Lachlan’s chest tightened with impotent fury as the young lord, his face red with shame, trod on Hyacinth’s feet not once, not twice, but three times as they made their way through the set.
The boy couldn’t seem to take a step without crushing her slippers under his pumps. The couples along the line noticed and began to titter at his clumsiness. He grew more nervous, and it made matters worse.
Lady Joanna and Miss Tilbury tripped lightly down the row, their faces wreathed in smiles. Both of them were clearly well pleased with their plot, but by the time Lord Chester had taken Hyacinth down the line three times, he looked as if he were ready to burst into tears.
And the dance wasn’t nearly over. Given the number of couples in the line, it could easily go on for half an hour or more. There wasn’t a damn thing Lachlan could do except watch, his entire body stiff with rage, as Hyacinth’s dainty feet were battered. He struggled to hold himself in check, but when Lord Chester’s pump snagged the edge of her gown and ripped a long tear in her hem, he’d had enough. He started forward, ready to lunge for Hyacinth and carry her off the floor, but he’d hardly moved a single step toward her when she caught his eye.
She stopped him with a tiny shake of her head, imperceptible to anyone but him, but a world of understanding passed between them in that single gesture.
Don’t interfere.
Her gaze had met his for a single instant only before it slid away, but it was enough.
Lachlan obeyed her silent command, but Christ, it was torture. Pure torture, to be forced to watch as she was hurt over and over again, without being able to do a damn thing about it. There was only one person more wretched than he was, and that was Lord Chester, who saw, too late, that he never should have allowed himself to be goaded into such a cruel prank.
But Hyacinth…
She never flinched.
Not once, as Lord Chester continued to make mincemeat of her feet, did she ever acknowledge by word or expression that anything was wrong. She didn’t miss a single step, and her resolve never faltered. She looked up into her partner’s face as she went through the figures of the dance, her hand clasped loosely in his, her lips curved in a tight smile.
Helpless anger, regret, and guilt gathered like a storm in Lachlan’s chest as the dance dragged on and on, until he was sucked into such a whirlwind of confused emotions he couldn’t tell how he felt, or who he was angry at anymore.
He knew only that this dance was endless.
At last the music faded, and the gentlemen bowed to their partners. Hyacinth dipped into a graceful curtsey in front of Lord Chester, for all the world as if she’d never enjoyed a more pleasant dance in her life.
Lachlan stared after them as a grim-faced Lord Chester took Hyacinth’s arm and escorted her through the crowd, but he lost sight of them in the crush as couples streamed off the floor, and others moved to take their places. He hurried to deliver Miss Taylor to her mother, then ran across the ballroom toward Lady Chase.
But when he came to a breathless halt beside her, Hyacinth wasn’t there. “Where is she?”
Lady Chase was wringing her hands. “She went to the ladies’ retiring room. Oh, Mr. Ramsey! I tried to accompany her, but she wouldn’t allow it. I daresay she didn’t want me to see how bad it was—”
“I’ll go, and wait for her in the hallway.”
“Yes. Hurry, won’t you?”
Lachlan tore through the ballroom. More than one head turned to follow his progress, but Lachlan ignored them all, his gaze fixed on the double doors that led into the long hallway beyond. Only one person mattered to him, and nothing in the world could have stopped him from going after her.
Chapter Thirteen
Hyacinth didn’t allow herself a wince or a limp until she’d left the ballroom and all the prying eyes behind. Once she was alone in the dim hallway, she braced her hand against the wall and made her slow, painful way toward the ladies’ retiring room, her feet howling in protest with every step.
It felt as if the bones in her toes had been crushed to a powder, but it couldn’t possibly be as bad as that. Surely no bones were broken. Her toes were a bit mangled, yes, and her slippers were certainly ruined, but nothing worse.
She gritted her teeth against the pain and hobbled down the hallway, but when she neared the ladies’ retiring room she became aware of a babble of female voices drifting out into the hallway, punctuated by an occasional shriek of laughter.
