Page 2 of A Duchess Bound
Bridget hurriedly took them, forcing the earrings into her ears. “I hope you are right!”
“Slippers!” Amelia exclaimed, producing them.
Bridget all but flew from the bench upon which she had been seated. She put on the slippers and ran across the room. Dorothy followed.
They thundered down the stairs, reaching the foyer more quickly than they ever had before. Elias’s head snapped in their direction. He took a quick, sharp glance over both of them. “Beautiful,” he said. “We have to go.”
He did not wait to see if his sisters followed, but of course, they did. They gathered their shawls at the door and hurried down the steps to the waiting carriage.
Edward, the footman, had already opened the carriage door. Bridget gathered her skirts and climbed inside, her breath coming in quick bursts. Dorothy found her own heart racing, blood roaring to her ears. She settled onto the cushion, Elias bounding inside only seconds later.
“I feel as though we have forgotten something important,” Elias said without preamble.
“Do not say that,” Dorothy said.
She was also wondering the same thing.
The carriage door was shut.
“It is because we left so quickly,” Dorothy said. “I am certain that we have remembered everything. Three siblings, all dressed for the Earl of Westerly’s ball. What else might we need?”
Elias furrowed his brow. “Dance cards?”
Bridget held up her wrist.
“I have mine, also,” Dorothy said.
Elias took a deep breath of air. As the carriage jerked into sudden motion, he swept aside the curtain covering the window and took stock of their surroundings. Although it was not yet dark, it was well past sunset. They should have left at least half an hour earlier.
Now, there was the agonizing ride to the ball during which anything might go amiss.
“It will be fine,” Elias said, with the air of a man who was trying to reassure himself. “We will be slightly late, but that will not be a great catastrophe.”
“Only a small catastrophe?” Bridget asked weakly.
“Not even that,” Dorothy said. “We will arrive a little late.”
“What if I am forced to become a wallflower?” Bridget asked. “What if the gentlemen have already promised all their dances to other ladies?”
“That will not happen,” Dorothy said. “I am certain that there will still be many gentlemen who are eagerly searching for partners.”
She hoped that was true. It madesensefor that to be true. Still, Dorothy could not help but imagine a horrific night wherein her sister was forced to be a wallflower during her very first ball.
“If there is a shortage of potential gentlemen, Elias will dance with you first,” Dorothy said. “That will garner some interest.”
“Will it?” Elias asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. Bridget is an exquisite dancer,” Dorothy said. “That will make her more noticeable.”
“All the ladies are exquisite dancers,” Bridget countered, color rising to her face. “Oh dear! What will I do if no one wants to dance? I am certain that I will die of humiliation!”
“That will not happen.”
Although Dorothy kept her voice soft and encouraging, she could not deny that itmighthappen. All the ladies of the tonwere equally beautiful, yet some of them would always find themselves becoming wallflowers.
“If it does, your sister and I will find suitors for you,” Elias said. “I promise that you will not be resigned to being a wallflower.”
Bridget bit her lip. Her eyes darted between Elias and Dorothy. She looked like a frightened animal, caught unaware by a hunter.
