“Of course you’ll dance, dear. It’s the opening ball of your very first season, and Iris and Finn have gone to such trouble to make it special for you.” Violet patted her hand, but her grip on Hyacinth’s elbow was relentless. “You don’t want to disappoint them, do you?”
“Or Grandmother, either.” Iris clutched Hyacinth’s other elbow. “She has her heart set on your catching a duke, you know.”
Hyacinth snorted. A duke, indeed. There would be no duke, nor a marquess, an earl, a viscount, or a baron. She’d be fortunate if she managed to land a stable boy, and it was best for all concerned if they didn’t expect more of her than that. A lady who cowered behind a column didn’t become the belle of her season, and she didn’t make a brilliant match. That Hyacinth seemed to be the only one who understood this was either terribly flattering, or utterly terrifying.
“A duke? I’m far more likely to catch a consumption.” Still, Hyacinth dragged herself from her hiding place, because—short of throwing her arms around the column and clinging to it for dear life—she didn’t have much choice.
“There, that’s better.” Violet fussed with the folds of Hyacinth’s skirt, then stood back to study the effect. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a duke. That gown is worthy of any duchess, and you look lovely in it.”
Hyacinth glanced down at her gown. It was white, of course—her grandmother had insisted on white for her first ball—with short, puffed lace sleeves and a subtle pattern of vines and flowers worked into the bodice and around the hem.
Itwasa beautiful gown, if less elaborate than many of the other gowns on display tonight, but the simplicity of it suited Hyacinth. She’d even felt a little thrill of girlish anticipation when she’d donned the gown in the privacy of her bedchamber this evening.
Now she just felt exposed, particularly her bosom. A low décolletage was a drafty business. “Perhaps a season wasn’t such a good idea, after all.” Hyacinth gazed at the crowds of people swarming the ballroom, their bright jewels flashing, and her stomach knotted with anxiety.
“Oh, my dear.” Iris squeezed Hyacinth’s cold fingers. “We know this isn’t easy for you, but I confess I didn’t think you’d find itquiteso difficult, especially with all of us here to support you.”
Violet’s brow creased with a worried frown. “You’ve been more anxious than usual these past few days. Is something troubling you, aside from the start of your season? If there is, you must tell us at once. Perhaps we can help.”
A ripple of fear darted down Hyacinth’s back, and she sucked in a quick breath of air. She’d tried again and again over the past few days to tell someone—anyone—about the horrific scene she’d witnessed at the Horse and Groom Inn but every time she tried to speak, she pictured that man lying in the dirt, covered in blood, and her throat collapsed around the words.
She’d looked for him, before they’d left the inn the next day, but there’d been no sign of the beaten man, or the man with the dark, glittering eyes who’d struck him down. Even if she had found them, there was little she could do. She’d been the only witness, and the crown tended to turn a blind eye to an affair of honor between two gentlemen.
So she tried to forget it, but no sooner would she find a moment of peace than the memory of that man crawling in the dirt would come upon her unawares, and she’d be a shivering wreck once again.
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m quite well. Just anxious about my season, that’s all.” She forced a smile for her sisters’ sakes, and vowed once again to put the incident from her mind.
“It will be all right.” Violet linked her arm with Hyacinth’s. “Iris and I won’t leave your side tonight. Will we, Iris?”
“Indeed we won’t. Not for the entire season, if you need us, and if you truly don’t care to dance with any gentlemen you don’t know, then you needn’t do so. Finn or Nick will lead you out if you wish to dance.”
It didn’t seem a good time to confess she found her brothers-in-law nearly as frightening as every other gentlemen—especially Finn, who was a trifle forbidding—so Hyacinth offered Iris a wan smile instead. “Very well, then. I’m ready.”
She cast one last longing look at her column, and then she drew a deep breath and turned resolutely back to face the ballroom. She didn’t need the column. She was in Iris’s home, and no matter what happened tonight, her family was here to support her.
Nothing will happen.
She was perfectly safe.
* * * *
“You don’t suppose Lord Huntington owns dozens of carriages, do you?”
Ciaran jerked his chin toward the Grosvenor Street mansion. Light spilled from every window, and even from the street, they could plainly hear the strains of a waltz.
“No, I think not.” Their sister Isla watched as a fine, black carriage stopped in front of the house and disgorged a trio of ladies half-smothered in silks and costly jewels. “It seems we’ve arrived in the middle of a ball. A grand one, too.”
“Bloody inconvenient timing,” Ciaran drawled.
Lachlan stared at the house, his lips tight. It was a damned sight worse than inconvenient. Lord Huntington wasn’t likely to be pleased to see them on any day, but it couldn’t get much worse than interrupting the man while he was hosting a ball.
“But wait. Perhaps all this fanfare is foryou, Lach.” Ciaran turned to him with a smirk. “Did you tell his lordship you were arriving this evening? After all, it’s not every day a man gains a brother.”
Lachlan’s mouth tightened further, but he didn’t reply.
“Stop nettling Lachlan, Ciaran.” Isla frowned at her brother. “It’s not as if we’re here just for him.”
Ciaran laughed, but his obvious resentment robbed the sound of any humor. “We may not be here only for Lachlan, but there’s no question we’re herebecauseof him.”
