Page 3 of The Pureblood Daughter
“Adelina!” Eliza is glowing, her freckled cheeks pink from the heat in the room and, very likely, the man who trails just a step behind her. “Lord Gray. Lady Gray.” Eliza nods to Adelina’s parents.
“Lady Williamson, how nice to see you. Love looks good on you, my dear,” Lady Gray says before reaching out to squeeze Eliza’s hand.
The compliment only makes Eliza’s cheeks redden further, and she leans toward her new husband gleefully.
Adelina turns to her parents. “Now that Eliza’s here, you need not lurk. Go. Drink. Be merry.”
Her parents would hover about her all night if she didn’t forcefully send them away.
Acquiescing, Lord and Lady Gray turn, arms linked, but Adelina’s father pauses for a moment. “Stay where we can see you, dear.” His eyes scan the crowd, but for whom, Adelina doesn’t know.
Her dark brows knit together briefly, but before she can ask what he’s worried about, her parents are gone. Her mother pulls her father into the crowd, snatching a flute of sparkling champagne as she goes. Beneath the candlelight, their pale hair glows, and Adelina reaches up to touch a lock of her dark hair.
“It’s been too long,” Eliza says, drawing Adelina’s attention away from her golden parents. “We’ve not spoken since the wedding.”
“That’s becauseyouinsist upon ignoring my letters.” Adelina arches a brow and tries not to smile as Eliza averts her eyes sheepishly. “Married life must keep you”—she glances at Eliza’s husband—“busy.”
John Williamson takes a step toward his new bride, and Eliza gazes up at him as though he is the moon and the stars. Their marriage was the first of the season, and though Adelina would never admit it, she ached to see her closest friend swept so beautifully off her feet. She’d hoped for Eliza to be by her side forever, two spinsters destined to pen novels and lock themselves away in towers, but it was not to be, as is so clear by the stars in the young couple’s eyes.
“That’s one word for it,” Eliza says, finally pulling her eyes from her groom. Her gaze travels to Adelina’s throat, and she reaches out and touches the tiny silver vial nestled between Adelina’s collarbones.
“That’s a most unique necklace,” Lord Williamson remarks.
“It was a gift from my father,” Adelina says. She reaches up to touch it. “It’s filled with patchouli. Mama says the young men will find it... fetching.” Her lips quirk up in a smirk.
“Well, I’m certainly glad Lord Gray did not gift Eliza one. I may not have been so lucky otherwise.” He smiles down at his bride, who rises onto her toes to press a dainty kiss upon his cheek.
The orchestra finishes their quadrille, and the dancers on the floor part politely. Manners dictate a lady should dance with the same partner no more than two times, and as such, the pairings shift as seamlessly as a river moving around smooth stones. Adelina casts her eyes about the room, but no gentlemen move or even glance her way.
“Archibald,” Lord Williamson calls, and a young man turns. They exchange pleasantries before shifting their attention to Eliza and Adelina. “My dear, Miss Gray, allow me to introduce Archibald Felton.”
Adelina and Eliza both nod politely, and Adelina tries to ignore the sparkle in Eliza’s eye.
“The pleasure is mine,” Lord Felton says. His copper hair is smoothed elegantly back from his forehead, and his hazel eyes are bright and sharp. “Miss Gray, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a dance.”
Adelina tries not to recoil. If this young man has not seen her dance, he is surely in for an unpleasant surprise.
“Do me the honor?” He offers Adelina a white-gloved hand, and she takes it with a strained smile.
“Certainly, Lord Felton.”
The young man leads her onto the floor, and they intermingle with the many other couples preparing for the next dance.
“I’ve not seen you on the floor tonight,” Lord Felton says.
“You’re soon to discover why, my lord. I fear my steps leave much to be desired.”
He smiles as though she’s joking, and she desperately wishes that were the case.
Just before the string players put their bows to their instruments, another couple takes to the floor, and the dancers part to make way for them. Adelina glances their way, as does everyone else in the ballroom, and her eyes become affixed to them.
The man, tall and broad shouldered, has his back to her. His partner has hair like honey, soft and gleaming and golden, and her cheekbones are high and sharp, but not nearly so sharp as her striking blue eyes. Even her eyelashes catch the candlelight. If an artist needed a muse, she’d be it.
The orchestra plays their first note, and Adelina pulls her gaze from the woman in time to curtsy to her partner. When Lord Felton smiles, Adelina smiles back, but beneath it is a quivering frown. He takes her hands, and the waltz begins.
She does her best to keep up, to ensure her slippered feet shift in time and she gets every move right. Though her hands tremble and her stomach knots, she keeps her shoulders back.
As Lord Felton spins her about the floor, she catches sight of her parents. Lady Gray is beaming. The half-empty glass in her hand might have something to do with it, but it warms Adelina’s heart. Lord Gray, though, seems not to notice her, even as she passes right before him. His gaze is elsewhere, eyes narrowed and darker than is appropriate at such a joyous event. Adelina follows his gaze and finds he’s watching the couple that was late to the floor.
