Every second since proved how much louder and out of control the world could feel. Constance clenched her fists and tried to breathe through the cloying sensation of everything being altogether too much to take in.
“We’ll determine our next step in the carriage,” Dorian suggested.
“I can’t believe there are actual invitations to this farce,” Hattie groused, settling back on the seat she’d vacated moments before.
“Wedding invitations are a step too far. We all agree on that,” Caro fumed.
“All right. What do we know? Althea’s message said to be in the Forsyths’ library,” Dorian said.
“She sent me a message several days ago saying she and Mr. Wellsley had concocted a plan. No specifics,” Connie said.
“And we know Althea will do anything to avoid marrying Southwyn.” Hattie leaned toward Constance and squinted in the dark. “Connie, love? I want you to take a deep lungful of air. You’re pale as a sheet and look like a spooked horse. Caro, Connie’s overwhelmed.”
Removing her cloak, Hattie handed it to Constance. “Wrap this tight around you if it will help. Close your eyes and ignore us. We will find our friends and get you where you need to be.”
Constance took the garment, because arguing that she was fine would be futile and a blatant falsehood. Huddled in the corner of the carriage with Hattie’s cloak covering her head, she closed her eyes and focused on the rumble of carriage wheels beneath her.
Several minutes passed before Connie felt slightly more in control of herself. From far away, snippets of conversation reached her.
Caro said, “Dorian and I planned to attend the Forsyths’ soiree this evening anyway. In light of the invitation, I think it would be cruel to send everyone back to the shop and ask you to wait for word. Althea wants Dorian somewhere at nine thirty? She’ll get all of us.” Then, her cousin called, presumably to their coachman. “Home, please.”
“All of us? I can’t go to a fancy ton event.” Hattie didn’t sound pleased. “I’ll be thrown out onto the street.”
Constance smiled in her dark cocoon. Caro would never let anything happen to Hattie.
“I’d like to see them try,” Dorian growled.
Neither would Dorian, Connie thought. As for her, this wouldn’t be the first ton event she sneaked into. Tonight, she’d have the added protection of a duke and duchess.
“We have plenty of time to tack up the hem on a gown for Connie, and I know I have a few that will fit you, Hattie,” Caro said, sounding genuinely excited. “It will be just like those nights when we’d sit and alter clothes for Connie’s many, many, many outings with men.”
Constance nearly laughed when Hattie added a dry “so many men.”
That’s when she knew she could emerge from her cloak cocoon. As usual, her cousins were Connie’s anchor in any situation. Slowly removing the woolen buffer from the world she’d needed for a short time, she handed Hattie her cloak with a quiet “thank you.”
Without the layers of sharp sensations, her mind was clear enough to make sense of her thoughts once more.
Doubts crept in. What if Oliver had changed his mind, or realized he couldn’t keep the promises he’d made to her?
An ache in her jaw told her she’d been clenching her teeth. Connie rubbed at the pain and tried to follow those thoughts to a conclusion.
If Oliver wanted to marry Althea after all, he’d need to tell her himself. She deserved that much. Not to learn about it from an—admittedly beautiful—wedding invitation.
That wasn’t even meant for her.
In a week, she’d have read about their marriage in theTimes, assuming Althea hadn’t told her first.
Whyhadn’tAlthea specifically mentioned the invitations in her missive? Or that her mother had secured a date at the church? Why had she written to Dorian requesting his presence tonight, instead of Constance?
Checking her watch brooch, Connie sighed. Each question would have an answer in a little over two hours. Not soon enough.
Waiting was awful.
Arriving at an event in a timely manner made for a boring evening. Especially when you’d never planned to show up in the first place. Oliver prowled through the game room, filled with tables, chairs, and cards with betting tokens laid out for the guests. He explored hallways to see which rooms were open, downed two flutes of champagne as he wandered the conversation area and assessed every new face entering through the door, searching for Dorian. Glancing at his pocket watch, Oliver stifled a groan.
How had it only been three-quarters of an hour?Hell and damnation. I’m supposed to be kissing Constance right now.
If he remembered correctly, Althea and Wellsley planned their scene for 9:30. Surely he’d find Dorian before then and still have time to track down Constance—provided Caro knew his intended’s whereabouts.
