Her friends were utterly sincere— she only had to look into their eyes to see that— but her own joy in her appearance had vanished by then, and all she wanted, all she wished for in the world was that she’d worn one of her somber brown or dark green ball gowns, so she might fade into the background as she always did.
Or better yet, that she’d never come here at all.
She managed to keep her head high as she crossed the ballroom, and she managed to paste a sickly smile to her lips as they paid their compliments to Lady Powell, but the whispers and muffled laughter seemed to swell around her, growing louder with every moment that passed until her head seemed to vibrate with the deafening echo inside her skull.
“Phee?” Harriett squeezed her hand. “Are you alright? You’re very pale.”
“Yes, I… I’m…” Harriett’s face swam before her eyes.
Everyone was staring at her. Staring, and laughing.
How had she ever imagined a drive in the Ring was more torturous than a ballroom? At least on the promenade, she was partially shielded from prying eyes by the carriage. Surely, there must be an alcove she could duck into or a corner around which she could disappear?—
“Good evening, Miss Templeton.”
She started as if she’d been stung, the low, rich voice jerking her loose from the fog in her head, and gazed up into blue eyes that had somehow, against her every effort, become nearly as familiar to her as her own.
When had that happened? Why hadn’t she taken better care to guard against it? “Lord Fairmont. I… how do you do?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even appear to hear her, so absorbed was he in studying her.
He took in the ribbons woven into her hair, and the pendant around her neck. He lingered at the pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat before moving lower, his eyes warm as he took in the tight bodice of her gown, her full silk skirts, and the tips of the toes of her satin slippers peeking out from under her hems.
He was silent for some time after he finished his perusal, but at last, he let out a soft, “Hmmm.”
Hmmm? What in the world did that mean?
But she knew, already. Of course, she knew. He thought her as ridiculous as every other fashionable aristocrat, in her borrowed finery. It was hardly a surprise, yet somehow, it hurt more than any of the other snickers or mocking sidelong glances she’d received this evening.
“Finally,” he murmured. “It’s well past time, Miss Templeton.”
She didn’t want to know what he meant. She couldn’t bear a jibe from him right now, but her traitorous mouth was already opening, her jaw unhinging with a rusty squeak, words heavy with defiance and shame crowding onto the end of her tongue. “Well past time for what?”
“It’s well past time you stopped dressing as if you’re an aged spinster.”
She stared up at him, a flash of heat scorching her cheeks even as a chill rushed over her, tugging goosebumps to the surface of her skin.
Shewasan aged spinster. A spinster, dressed in a countess’s ballgown.
“I… forgive me, my lord, but I can’t… I’m in need of the ladies’ retiring room.”
Lord Fairmont blinked down at her, a frown gathering between his brows. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harriettinterrupted him, seizing her hand. “You can’t go now, Phee! We’ve only just arrived, and look! Lord Hemming is coming our way!”
Lord Hemming? Did she know Lord Hemming? She glanced up, but the ballroom was a sea of blurred faces, none of them at all familiar to her.
“He’s looking right at you, Phee,” Harriett breathed. “I daresay he’s going to ask you to dance!”
Dance? Oh, no. No. Every eye would be upon her then.
“No, I… no, thank you. I beg your pardon, but I...” She tugged loose from Harriett’s grip and began to back away from them.
“Miss Templeton.” Lord Fairmont stepped toward her, and a pair of warm, strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, halting her in her place. “Are you unwell?”
“Wait, Euphemia.” Lady Fosberry reached out a hand to her, but Phee whirled around before her ladyship could stop her, and ran back in the direction she’d come, eyes following her as she flew past, her skirts clutched in her hands, and rushed toward… where?
Oh, where was the ladies’ retiring room?
She couldn’t remember, couldn’tthink.
