No, an occasion such as this called for a particular sort of gown, a gown that said she no longer cared about their whispers or their stares.
Thiswas that gown.
It was blue, but not the pale, pastel blue favored by the younger ladies, or the celestial blue that was so fashionable this season. No, this was an entirely different blue, one rarely seen in a ballroom— a blue so vibrant, so vivid, the only proper word for it was azure.
Indeed, the gown was so eye-catching it verged on improper, and so it might have been, if it hadn’t been made of delicate tissue silk so fine, so fragile, it floated like a dream around her as she made her way across the ballroom, the white sarsenet petticoat she wore underneath peeking out from beneath herhems as she walked, creating the effect of a cascading waterfall over a ripple of silvery foam.
Aside from a narrow band of French lace at the hem and a scattering of tiny pearl beads over the skirt, there were no trimmings.
The gown didn’t need them.
Her only other ornament was a small diamond and sapphire pendant around her neck, and a white silk ribbon woven into the dark locks of her hair.
Heads turned as they made their way across the ballroom toward Lady Upton, and whispers swelled in their wake, but this time, she didn’t acknowledge them.
Harriett was right. They didn’t matter.
Tonight, there was only one person who did matter.
Lord Fairmont.
James.
He wasn’t in the ballroom. If he had been, she would have known it at once. She would have sensed him, just as one sensed the presence of someone beloved to them, belovedbythem.
A dear friend, or a lover.
He hadn’t kissed her since their first waltzing lesson. He’d appeared faithfully every morning, and with a gentle patience that she’d thought him incapable of only weeks earlier, he’d waltzed with her until she no longer had to think about the steps, but twirled about the empty ballroom in his arms as if she’d been made to dance with him.
As if they’d been made to dance together.
“Miss Templeton. How do you do?”
They’d reached the other end of the ballroom, and Phee dragged her attention to Lady Upton, who was regarding her with a kind smile on her face. “How wonderful it is, Miss Templeton, to see you looking so extremely well.”
Phee smiled and pressed her ladyship’s hand. “You’re very kind, my lady.”
“Indeed, Maria, you’ve always been a dear, sweet, creature.” Lady Fosberry pressed an affectionate kiss to Lady Upton’s cheek.
“Well, we do our best, do we not, Patience?” Lady Upton laughed as she took Harriett’s hand. “Lady Harriett! Goodness, how pretty you look! I daresay your dance card will be full this evening.”
Harriett blushed. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Now, Miss Templeton, may I introduce you to Lord Welles? He’s just over there, and I do believe he’s admiring you. It would give me great pleasure to see you dance this evening, and Lord Welles is a most delightful part?—”
“That won’t be necessary, Lady Upton.”
Phee stilled. The voice came from behind her, the deep, rich timber of it sending goosebumps rushing to the surface of her skin. She turned, and there was Lord Fairmont, just as he’d promised he would be, so handsome in his black evening clothes a soft gasp dropped from her lips.
“Miss Templeton.” His blue eyes gleamed as he took her in from head to toe in a thorough, heated perusal before he caught her hand, and raised it to his lips. “I pity the other ladies in the ballroom tonight.”
“M-my lord?”
“None of them will ever dare wear blue again, after tonight.”
There was nothing improper in his words, but his husky drawl, the sensual half smile on his lips, and the way his eyes darkened as they moved over her set her every nerve ending alight.
“My goodness,” Lady Upton murmured, flapping her fan in front of her face.
