Finally alone again, Sybil collapsed on the bed and wished more than ever she was at Aunt Susan’s where nothing—and by that, she meant absolutelynothing—exciting ever happened.
* * *
Sybil’s mother, to Sybil’s horror, was what constituted a social butterfly. No sooner was she outfitted in a way that suited her mother—and that, thankfully, was about within the realms of propriety—she was informed what events she would be attending.
“Lady Chichester is holding a soiree next week,” her mother said at the breakfast table, sorting through the invitations and cards before her. “We’ll go to that, of course.”
Sybil rested her face in her hands. “Do we—”
“Yes,” her mother said sharply. “We do. The Duke won’t be there, but it’ll be important for you to be there.”
At least the Duke wouldn’t be there. It was a small comfort, but Sybil needed all the comforts she could get. Did he reallywantto court her? That question had been plaguing her all night, and she had risen bleary-eyed to more thoughts of it. Ofhimand all the things he had done to her by the riverbank.
She had been so certain then that her actions would never come back to haunt her, but she’d been wrong. Here they were, taking the form of a darkly handsome Duke with blue eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul.
Her mother rapped the table in front of her. “Are you listening to me, Sybil?”
“Yes.”
“What was I saying?”
Sybil eyed the white-and-gold invitation in her mother’s hand. “You were informing me of the latest event we need to attend.”
“Andwhat, precisely, is that, Sybil?”
“A ball?” she guessed.
“Hmm.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Whose ball?”
Sybil had been out of Society for too long because when she tried to think about which ladies might have thrown a ball, she struggled to think of any. “Lady Jersey?”
“Of course not! As though she would have invited us.” Scarlet tossed her head, blonde ringlets quivering with indignation. “No, this is from Thomas’ sister. She’s going to hold a ball next Saturday. It’ll be the event of the season.”
Oh no. Sybil knew what was coming. “But—”
“The Duke is bound to be there. I know for a fact Jennifer has invited him, and there is little reason for him to refuse. Especially when he’s going out of London for a few days now.”
Sybil perked up. “He is?”
“Only a few days, Sybil. He’ll be back in time for the ball.”
A few days’ reprieve. She would have time to think of a reason why they shouldn’t court. Aside from the obvious reason, which wild horses couldn’t drag from her.
At the mere thought, heat flooded her cheeks.
“He’s a handsome man,” her mother continued, mistaking Sybil’s blush as shyness. “If I were twenty years younger—”
“Mama.”
“All I’m saying is you’re a lucky girl.”
Luckywas not a word Sybil would have used to describe herself.Oh yes, I made the mistake of sleeping with a future Duke thinking he was a mere footman and now he wants to court me.
No doubt so he could humiliate her. Or because he wanted her to lift her skirts again. And no doubt he would expect it from her, given their previous meeting and the way her mother behaved.
It was too embarrassing. All she would have to do is find a reason why she couldn’tpossiblyattend the ball.
Perhaps she could find someone else to propose beforehand. If Thomas would accept their hand. Which he wouldn’t.
