Page 12 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
“Would you like something to drink?” he managed to ask.
“Um...I think I might take the air. I can see your aunt has opened the doors. Excuse me a moment.” She was looking at the door that led to the terrace.
“Of course,” he replied softly. He stood still and let her turn around and walk slowly, her head raised, with an air of confidence, to the doors. He felt his cheeks flush with guilt and shame.
She must be congratulating herself on escaping from the horrible man she danced with.
He felt hurt and a little indignant. He looked around. Leonard was somewhere in the room—no doubt leaning on a pillar, being calm and funny and making people laugh. Since they met during their studies at Cambridge, Leonard was like that.
Owen felt a little envious.
Owen wandered to the other side of the room, near the stairs, and tried not to glance over to where Lord and Lady Walden stood, or to the doors, where he was sure there was a woman thinking about what a fool he’d been and how he was sure Miss Worthington would never wish to speak to him again.
Chapter 5
“How could I be so foolish?” Ophelia whispered aloud.
On the terrace, the night was cool, a thin breeze rustling the foliage under the railing. The sky was black, and she tipped back her head, seeing silver stars that seemed so distant, sparkling there against the dark sky.
She shut her eyes for a moment, leaning against the railing. The stone was cool and rough under her bare arms, and she shivered, drawing her thin silk shawl a bit closer around her shoulders. She wanted to go indoors, but the earl was in there, and if she looked at him, she’d die of shame.
She recalled how she’d stood on his toe; how shocked he was, his eyes widening with surprise.
She couldn’t help suppressing a little chuckle as she remembered the strangled gasp of pain he’d emitted. That was funny, and laughing made her feel somewhat better.
“He must think I’m a fool,” she said aloud.
That saddened her again and she looked down, staring at the flowerbed. Some small star-like flowers bloomed there, white in the dark, and she wished she could write a poem around that. She hadn’t brought her book, but suddenly a verse was there, something about her sadness and the lone flowers in the dark. She half-walked to the door, thinking about asking Lady Haredale for pen and paper, then turned away.
All that’s needed,she thought wryly,is for Lady Haredale to think of me as an odd eccentric, and then I’d never be able to go forth into social circles again.
Mama and Papa would be so angry if that happened.
She felt anger mixed with her feelings of shame. It wasn’t fair! They had dragged her here, expecting her to be ready tointeract perfectly with complete strangers. Why couldn’t she just write poetry in her little comfortable room? If she was going to make a fool of herself, she might as well be allowed to avoid society altogether.
A tear ran down her cheek. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t know her, didn’t care enough to know her, and yet she was sure they’d be standing whispering about her, noticing every flaw, every tiny misstep.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
She leaned against the railing, staring upwards again. The stars overhead were silent, no poems coming to her as she stared up at them. She leaned back, the breeze cold on her skin. The sound of the ballroom faded, and it felt, for just a second or two, as though she was alone, swimming in a sea of stars. Just for a moment, she felt what it was like to be unobserved, uncriticized, free.
It felt liberating, light. Extremely good.
She breathed in deeply and then straightened her spine, the feeling giving her strength. Lily would be waiting for her at home, and whatever she did, Lily wouldn’t laugh at her. She wouldn’t say she was a fool for stepping on the earl’s toes. She would just smile and ask if she had a good night and comb her hair for her before blowing out the lamps.
Lily liked her for who she was.
That memory gave her strength. She walked to the door and then through into the ballroom, the heat like a wall. The noise was oppressive after the silence. She let her gaze drift across the hall. She could see her parents in the corner, chatting to Lord and Lady Welton, or it looked like them from where she stood. Lady Welton had beautiful ginger curls, and she could spot them across the room.
As she made her way across to them, thinking that confronting them now would be better than waiting until she gotinto the coach, she spotted someone.
“Alice!”
She let out a little cry of surprise. Her friend was there! When she spoke to her earlier, Alice hadn’t even seemed to know the ball was happening, but now here she was. Her friend grinned when she saw her.
“Ophelia,” she greeted her brightly. “It seems like we had an invitation too. Mama forgot to tell me.” She made a wry face. “So, I’m wearing my pink gown. The new one will be ready tomorrow.”
Ophelia greeted her in turn, her heart soaring. She had felt terrible, but there was someone who would understand. She considered telling Alice about the embarrassing moment but hesitated. Her shame was almost too great to tell even her best friend about that. “I’m so surprised to see you here!”
