How could he, after how she had ended things between them?
She still remembered the hurt, horrified look Matthew had given her that night. It haunted her every dream and waking moment. So, no, he would not push a smile her way.
The weight of Matthew’s disdain, the hateful look he cast at her, haunted her every glance.
Agnes cleared her throat and swirled the golden liquid in her glass, attempting to feign normalcy, to divert her eyes—anything. But Matthew’s gaze held her captive.
For a week, it’d been like that. She would see Matthew, either coincidentally or meeting at balls such as this, but he would blatantly ignore her and throw her such hateful looks. Even his mother and Letitia only smiled sadly at her from a distance.
Tears threatened to roll down Agnes’s powdered cheeks as she remembered the other balls they had, all those months ago. When things had still been beautiful between them.
If it were those times, Matthew would have walked up to her with a mischievous smile, ignored her scoffing mother, and asked her to dance. She would have also ignored Mary Pilton and accepted his request.
Together they would have danced just so people would have memories of them being present at the ball. Then, like royal spies, they would have run out of the ball, to the gardens or any other quiet, secluded place, where they would spend the rest of the evening, dancing, laughing, and talking. With their mouths and bodies.
They were the best times of her life.
The once shared joy had now given way to awkward, hateful glances and unspoken pain. They’d turned to such strangers in such a short time.
It hurt her badly.
Agnes contemplated fleeing the ballroom, desperate to escape the piercing gaze of the man she once gave her heart to.
She couldn’t. She just—
“Miss Agnes.”
She snapped her head up, her tears rimming her eyes, to see Ewan standing and blocking her view of Matthew and his piercing eyes.
Agnes cleared her throat and struggled against the pain inside her. She smiled forcefully and bobbed a small curtsy. “Lord Egerton.”
The brown-haired man just smiled and bowed.
Agnes wondered who had pushed him to her. His mother or hers?
“Miss Agnes, may I have the honor of this dance?”
Agnes, with a gracious nod and a forced smile, only said, “Lord Egerton, the pleasure is mine.”
He extended an arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.
Agnes tried hard to ignore where she was sure Matthew stood.
They started to waltz, and Ewan, attempting small talk, snaked his arms around Agnes’s waist and smiled down at her. “Miss Agnes, I noticed you were standing by that window for so long tonight. Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Yes, it’s a delightful affair.” She forced another smile and worked hard not to step on his shiny shoes. That would be embarrassing.
Ewan nodded. “Good to hear. You know, there has been quite a buzz about our potential union on the street.”
Agnes scoffed under her breath. Shameless gossips. That was what everyone was. “Indeed.”
Ewan twirled Agnes and pulled her back to him. “So, when do you envision us tying the knot?”
Agnes could imagine it was his mother who told him what questions to ask.
“Whenever you wish, My Lord.”
Agnes was so uninterested, and she hoped it wasn’t too obvious, but Ewan only grinned. “Wonderful! And how about a family? How many little ones do you imagine running around our estate?”