There wasn’t a minute during their time together that she’d ever felt as if she were pretending to be someone else. Someone less intelligent. Someone more proper. Someone other than precisely who she was.
And he’d loved her for it!
She knew he had.
Which made his betrayal all the more cutting.
When sharp needles pricked the corners of her eyes, she blinked them furiously away. She hadn’t come here to bemoan her broken heart or dissolve in a puddle of self-pity. She was here to support Rosemary, who didn’t fit in with thetonany more than Joanna did. She was here to give Evie her shining moment in the spotlight, for if ever that was a person designed to flourish in such a setting, it was her sister. And she was here to see her half-brother. Who, if he was a man of decency, would agree to return the ring so that she and Evie might at long last return home. Wearier and, hopefully, wiser from their voyage across the pond.
The sky blue doors opened, admitting the next rush of bodies, of which Joanna and Evie were a part. They formed another line at the top of a wide staircase which led down into the middle of the sunken ballroom, a vast space lit with dozens of crystal chandeliers, polished wood floors, and windows framed with red velvet drapes. Chairs lined the one side, a buffet of food and drink occupied the other, and the back doors, all glass, were propped open to reveal a stone terrace and the torchlit rose garden beyond. An orchestra comprised of violinists, harpists, and even a pianist played from a second-floor balcony overlooking the room, their music guiding the dancers through the steps of a complicated waltz.
When it was over, everyone clapped, and the butler at the head of the stairs began to announce the arrival of new guests before another dance began.
What a slow, unwieldy process Joanna thought as she and Evie gradually moved closer to the stairs. If it were up to her, she’d let everyone in at once. No need for such revelry. Why, a person was as likely to spend as much time in a line as they were dancing. But then, it wasn’t her decision to make. She was simply a spectator. A spectator who very much wished the buffet table had chocolate-covered marzipan.
When it was finally her and Evie’s turn to be recognized, Evie told their names to the butler. Joanna started to walk down the steps before he could bellow them out (for a man short in stature, he was really quite loud), but Evie grabbed her arm.
“Wait,” she hissed. “This is the best part.”
Sucking in a mouthful of air, the butler puffed out his chest and shouted, “Miss Joanna Thorncroft and Miss Evelyn Thorncroft of Somerville, Massachusetts.”
The entire room went absolutely silent.
Had a pin dropped, everyone would have dove for cover.
In unison, every pair of eyes turned to the top of the staircase.
Evie gave Joanna a small nudge. “Still think no one knows who we are?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Everyone was staringat them. The worst part was, they weren’t even trying to hide it. As Joanna descended the stairs with her heart in her throat and her hand wrapped so tightly around Evie’s arm she wouldn’t have been surprised if she left a permanent mark, she cursed herself for ever agreeing to attend the ball in the first place.
There wasn’t very much she was afraid of.
Not heights, or spiders, or the dark.
Not even snakes.
But a room filled with three hundred strangers watching her with all the intensity of a pack of bloodthirsty wolves ready to spring on their unsuspecting American prey?
Thatwas terrifying.
She dared a glance out of the corners of her eyes to see if Evie was equally intimidated. She really should have known better. While Joanna was resisting the urge to run for the nearest exit, Evie was basking in the glow of the limelight.
Radiant in a violet gown that brought out the deep blue in her eyes, Evie floated down the steps with all the inherent grace of a young queen. As they neared the bottom and the crowd surged towards them, her poise did not waver.
“Good evening,” she said sweetly. “Lovely weather. So nice to meet you, Lady Dillinger. A pleasure, Lord Concord. What a beautiful dress, Miss Hathwick…”
Struggling to find courage in her sister’s composure, Joanna forced a smile and a few mumbled words. But as the circle grew smaller, and the amount of people waiting to be introduced to the long-lost granddaughter of the Duke of Caldwell grew larger, panic began to set in.
Then, out of nowhere, a dark angel came to her rescue.
“Joanna.” A hand closed around her elbow. “Come with me.”
Kincaid.
She didn’t hesitate.
