“Those people are strange,” Mary concluded wisely, and that was the end of it.
*
“I’m glad to finally have you among us again, Lady Elizabeth,” Oliver bowed with a smile after he’d exchanged pleasantries with her aunt.
“It’s wonderful to be back among friends, Corporal Harding,” she replied sincerely.
Elizabeth wasn’t a coward, she told herself; it was pure chance that she’d missed Opera, the Park, and a number of other engagements in the fortnight after the Fairchilds’ ball. She’d also turned away all visitors, citing illness as a reason. But that was over now.
She was looking forward to spending time with Corporal Harding at the Overtons’ ball. She told herself that he wasa good, decent young man who was being herded towards matrimony in much the same way that she was. A man who was low enough in the social hierarchy not to be in peril of sullying anything by associating with the likes of her. A man who was quick to smile, and who would live out the rest of his respectable days out in Wiltshire, away from this sooty city and all who lived in it.
“Would you do me the honour of saving the first waltz for me?” Oliver asked so hopefully that it warmed her heart.
“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” Lizzie smiled as she took her dance card out of her reticule.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
When Duke Colin Talbot finally graced the hosts with his holy presence more than an hour later, Elizabeth struggled with the habitual pleasantries and with accepting his invitation to dance without bursting into angry, frustrated tears. Narrowing his eyes at her, he bowed and walked away, most likely to discuss bloodlines and social order elsewhere.
Elizabeth exhaled wearily when he was gone. This was unlike her. She needed to take these vexatious feelings of resentment and discontent and put them away with all the other ones that bothered her in order to remain amiable, joyful, and pleasant.
She wanted her insides to match her outsides, which were, if she was being honest with herself, looking particularly captivating in the sorrel gown which Mary had altered to flatter her figure even more. Elizabeth sat down next to her Aunt Isolde, who was an excellent reminder of why she was here.
When it was time for her final waltz with Duke Talbot, all of Elizabeth’s insides felt… agitated. The feeling reminded her ofthe time she had, as a child, swallowed a fly on a dare. Thomas had been the one to dare her, naturally. She hadn’t thought about the fly in years.
Elizabeth stared at the hand Talbot was offering her as she thought of that poor fly. It all felt so wrong and so insincere, this farce of a dance, this illusion of polish and manners. She cleared her throat slightly as she took the offered hand.
As they moved closer to each other, Lizzie inhaled deeply, for she knew this was the last time she’d be inhaling his perfume from this distance.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
It was only the second time he’d ever uttered her first name.
Her eyes flew open.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Elizabeth replied in her calmest voice.
Talbot frowned.
“Are you still feeling unwell?” He asked.
Elizabeth didn’t understand how one could feign concern so skillfully.
“No. I have to have a conversation I’m not looking forward to,” she admitted.
“Surely not with me,” he smiled confidently, and leaned in to allow her to gossip more easily. “I must say, these balls have been dreadfully tedious without your fits of temper.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, and Talbot raised both his eyebrows.
She took a big breath.
“At the Fairchild ball,” she said, then stopped speaking.
“Yes?”
“I went to the terrace for some air.”
“I see,” he said, although he didn’t.
