“No.” Mary pulled on her gloves, then marched directly towards Tara, her expression set into such a look of seriousness that Tara’s heart quickened a little, as she became a little concerned about what her sister had planned. “Come now. Let us go to the ball.”
“Mary, wait.” Tara reached out and caught her arm, but her sister merely continued, pulling Tara with her. “If there is something you have intended, then pray, speak to me of it. I do not wish to–”
“We will be tardy,” came the short but rather brusque reply, “and we cannot keep Father waiting. Come now, sister. Let us make our way to the ball.”
* * *
It waswith some trepidation that Tara stepped into Lord Franklin’s ballroom. Her sister was still with her, of course, but she had said not a word during the carriage ride. Tara had attempted to make some sort of conversation, but had been forced into silence due to her father’s lack of interest in their conversation and Mary’s stubborn determination to remain silent.
It had been precisely as Mary had predicted - the moment they stepped into the ballroom, their father quickly made his excuses and took his leave of them. This was not unexpected, but what had come as a surprise was Mary’s heavy-hearted sigh and the way she shook her head.
Now, however, they found themselves arm in arm as they wandered through the ballroom, just as they usually did. Any time Tara attempted to speak to her sister, however, there came not a single word of reply. It was as though Mary was quite determined to keep her own counsel, no matter what Tara asked. It was incredibly disconcerting.
“Good evening, Mary, and to you also, Miss Shaw!”
Tara’s attention was forced back to their surroundings when a voice greeted them both. She smiled quickly, just as her sister beamed back at the young lady in question. This, at least, brought a smile to Mary’s face, perhaps pulling her away from thoughts of their father and his lack of consideration for them both. A little relieved, Tara allowed her sister to fall into conversation with her good friend, Miss Eleanor Duncansby whilst she took a small step back.
“I am so very glad you are here.” Miss Duncansby grasped Mary’s hand as Tara looked on. “Lord Talbert is in attendance, and I am certain will come to seek out your dance card in only a few moments. But you will be glad to know that Lord Pottinger has also shown his face! He has not danced yet, of course, but I am sure that he shall.”
“Has he indeed?”
Mary’s eyes glittered as Tara’s stomach dropped. She forced a smile, glancing towards Mary and trying her best to be relieved that there was something of a distraction for her sister this evening, for if she were caught up with Lord Talbert and Lord Pottinger, then she would become distracted from whatever thoughts she had about Tara herself.
“Are you acquainted with Lord Pottinger?”
Miss Duncansby shook her head.
“Not particularly well, although we have been introduced.”
“Then I am sure you would be able to introduce both myself and my sister to him, would you not?” Mary continued as Tara’s eyes flared. “You know how envious I shall be of you otherwise!”
This made Miss Duncansby laugh, and she quickly promised to do so, even though Tara’s stomach began to churn with a furious fear that she would soon be discovered and thereafter, denounced by all of society, given what Lord Pottinger would say of her.
“There is no need for us to be introduced, Mary,” she interrupted. “You may very well be eager to be, but I cannot see a need to.”
Her sister turned her hazel eyes towards Tara, a small smile drifting across her lips.
“But you know that I cannot be introduced to him without you being present.”
Tara opened her mouth to protest but immediately was forced to snap it shut, knowing that her sister said was correct.
“Besides which, I am sure that youwouldlike to be introduced to him, even though you may not admit it!”
Tara did not miss the way that Miss Duncansby’s eyes sparkled with interest, and thus she had to satisfy her sister’s remark with only a brisk nod before looking away. Were she to be truthful, she would state that she had no desire whatsoever to be introduced to Lord Pottinger, but it was not as though she could say such a thing with any honesty. There would be questions as to why she did not wish herself to be introduced to the man, and as yet, Tara could think of nothing particular to say which would be at all understandable.
“Wonderful. I am sure that Miss Duncansby can make the introductions when there is an appropriate opportunity.”
Mary smiled, but there was a slight glint in her eye that caught Tara’s attention. Her sister still had some sort of intention for the evening, related to Tara herself, but thus far Tara had very little idea as to what it might be.
Soon Mary and Miss Duncansby were caught up in conversation and Tara, as she usually did, stepped back a little more, allowing them to speak freely while remaining in clear sight of her sister. Her eyes moved idly around the room. No one paid much attention to her. They never had done. Her sister was the one with the beauty, and she was much too quiet to be noticed. Her eyes settled on a gentleman whom she was certain she recognized. When he turned, she realized at once that it was Lord Talbert. He was talking to three young ladies, and that made Tara’s heart twist. It was not because there was anything wrong with his doing so, but more the fact that her sister might find herself a little heartbroken, should she see him so eagerly in conversation with them.
That was Mary’s greatest foible. She considered that every gentleman who so much as smiled at her was deeply interested in furthering their acquaintance to something more. She was desperate to fall in love, desperate to have that deep affection from one singular gentleman. It was certainly an understandable situation, but Tara always pushed her to be cautious. Mary wanted to see good in everyone, and was eager to assume that every gentleman’s intentions were honorable. Having spent two previous Seasons in London, and before that, having spoken to her elder sister, Tara understood a good deal more about society and the gentlemen it contained than Mary did.
“An excellent opportunity has presented itself!”
At the very next moment, Tara found himself pulled away, her sister’s hand tight on her arm. She stumbled slightly, heat burning in her face as she tripped over the hem of her own gown. Such was her sister’s haste that Mary herself did not even realize what had happened but continued to tug Tara along with her. It was not until they came to a stop directly in front of Lord Pottinger that Tara understood what Mary had meant by ‘an excellent opportunity’.
“Miss Duncansby, how very good to see you this evening.” Lord Pottinger was not looking at Tara and instead had fixed his gaze on Miss Duncansby, but for whatever reason, Tara could not seem to look away from him, despite her trepidation. She took in his features, seeing the strong, square jaw, the broad nose, the flashing blue eyes, and the thick crop of very dark hair which was swept to one side across his brow. He was handsome, and given that she had heard he had nothing but a genial manner, it came as very little surprise to Tara that he was so sought after by the young ladies - and their mothers - of theton. The heat which had run through her before began to grow in her again, although held back by her own fears and steady guilt.
