Page 5 of An Unwitting Alliance
Wait. Mama knew everyone. She would help him. “Mama, please tell me you know who Miss Smith is.”
“I am certain I know several Miss Smiths.”
“No.” Tom put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Not Miss Smith. I mean that woman...” He pointed to where she had fled, and his voice faded. “That woman who is nowhere in sight.” Feelings of desperation quickly exchanged themselves for heavy disappointment.
The music began again and several couples gathered back into lines, blocking his path to the exit. By the time he convinced Mama all was well, he’d never make it to the door in time to catch not-Miss Smith. While the others could move on with their night and would soon forget what had happened, Tom knew he could not. And he did not even know to whom to address his apologies.
Chapter 2
The crush of an earl’sballroom had been thrilling only minutes before, but weaving through the alternating faces of curiosity or disinterest to reach the door while Cassandra favored her smarting ankle proved exhausting. She wanted nothing more than to leave the finery of Bellmont Manor behind, along with two of its unsufferable occupants.
She leaned against Mr. Gibbons’s lean form, grateful he had rushed to her side. She should be appreciating the close proximity to him, but no such feelings surfaced. Frustration over what had just happened dominated her every thought. What rankled her most was tonight she had anticipated a proposal of marriage, and she was about to leave home without one. If Mr. Gibbons lacked the opportunity to declare himself, it would be her unnamed dance partner’s fault. That man’s laughing blue eyes and teasing smile had momentarily dazzled her, and in her ignorance, she had fallen for his tricks. That part was her fault. She had agreed to dance with a stranger and had been unprepared for the actions that followed.
With Mr. Gibbons supporting her on one side and her aunt walking on the other, Cassandra hobbled as quickly as she could toward the exit. Once they were in the corridor, her aunt arranged for a servant to fetch their cloaks, allowing them a few feet of privacy. Cassandra glanced up at the features she had memorized these past weeks on Mr. Gibbons’s face: slender nose and chin, hazel eyes, and golden hair. A thread of hope weaved through her disgruntled thoughts. There was still time. It would not take long for him to express his love for her. Or, if all else failed, he could easily arrange to travel to Airewell and meet with Papa.
Mr. Gibbons looked down his narrow nose at her, and a tentative smile surfaced. “Does it hurt very much?”
“’Tis manageable. I am only sorry it has put an early end to our evening.”
Mr. Gibbons nodded. “And to think, you return to Bedford tonight and to Airewell on the morrow.”
“Airewell is not so very far away. Only a couple of hours on horseback, though a bit longer by carriage.”
“It is far enough. You will be missed.”
That was it? She would be missed? Her brow rose in anticipation for him to add to his simple, unfulfilling remark.
But a footman came with their cloaks, and Mr. Gibbons and her aunt helped her on with hers.
Mr. Gibbons addressed the footman. “You must carefully aid Miss Vail to her carriage. She has turned her ankle and cannot walk unassisted.”
“Your arm is sufficient. I do not require his as well.” Cassandra straightened.
“Oh.” Mr. Gibbons frowned. “I thought to return to the dancing since you are in capable hands now.”
A wave of despair far worse than falling in front of a room of influential people rushed over her. She sent a desperate glance to her aunt.
Aunt Evans’s round eyes were already wide, her double chin bouncing as she sputtered, “B-But, Mr. Gibbons, this cannot be goodbye already. Will you come to see Cassandra off in the morning?”
Mr. Gibbons cleared his throat and took Cassandra’s hand delicately off his arm. He motioned to the footman, who stepped into Mr. Gibbons’s place to brace her. “I will not be able to come in the morning, as I am to go to London for a visit. My best wishes on your journey.”
Cassandra’s earlier frustration compounded under the disappointment Mr. Gibbons now thoroughly and completely embodied. This had been her fate? An opportunity to be courted by a well-connected man, only to part ways without even a glimmer of hope? A chance to see the workings of Society and be out in the world but never enjoy it? To realize her future would always be completely out of her control?
She purposefully bumped into Mr. Gibbons as she hobbled toward the footman. The heel of her good foot came down squarely over the toe of his boot with as much force as she was capable of. Yes, it took putting weight on her weak ankle, and yes, it hurt, but hopefully it hurt him far worse.
She glanced up, and it was with some satisfaction that she took in the deep wince on his face and caught the whine of pain that slipped through his lips.
“Goodbye, Mr. Gibbons.” The words clipped off her tongue behind her quelling smile, and she turned without a backward glance. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her shed a single tear on his account, nor would she throw out the insult of his cowardice hovering on the edge of her tongue. He did not deserve any further response to his emotional indifference.
What a terrible night.
Aunt hurried to her other side, ready with calming whispers. “Deep breaths, dear. Deep breaths.”
Cassandra had a tendency to get a bit huffy when worked up, but she listened begrudgingly to Aunt and slowed her breathing to an even pace.
The half-hour ride back to Aunt Evans’s home in Bradford spanned infinitely longer than their initial trip to the ball. There was no anticipation for the future. Only dread.
“I never cared much for Mr. Gibbons, now that I think of it,” Aunt Evans said from her seat across from Cassandra.
