Читать книгу A Compromised Innocent - Elaine Golden - Страница 7

“Stop slouching, Elspeth. Chin up and smile. You don’t want to embarrass us, do you?”

“My name is Lizzie,” she muttered just loudly enough to ensure her aunt, but no one else, could hear her.

“I’ve told you I won’t use that awful name, Elspeth. Whatever your father was thinking to call you that, I don’t know.”

Lizzie Talbot—or Miss Elspeth Talbot, as her aunt preferred—didn’t bother to correct her aunt this time. Reminding Aunt Roberta that Lizzie was the nickname her mother, Roberta’s older sister, gave her was pointless. She’d believe whatever she chose to as usual.

Sometimes it was hard to think of Aunt Roberta in a maternal way. Despite being Lizzie’s guardian, Roberta was only a dozen or so years older than her.

“And what have you done with your hair since we left? It looks like you’ve been fidgeting with it again.” When her aunt jerked at a loose curl more forcefully than was necessary, Lizzie stifled a grimace. As they neared the end of the reception line, she held as still as possible and let her aunt fuss.

You can do this. Just don’t rush and all will be well.

This might be her third Season, but she still wasn’t used to large gatherings, had never managed to get comfortable enough to exhibit the grace her aunt would have her show in public.

“Whatever was Lady Delcourt thinking to allow her daughter to purchase such a dress? She looks ready to tread the boards.” The daughter, Lady Cecilia, stood beside her parents as she greeted their guests. The dress in question was a bright turquoise silk, which Lizzie thought did lovely things with the woman’s pale complexion. The feathers, however, were…excessive. They covered the bodice and hem and had even been pinned into her coiffure. She looked like an exotic parrot.

Lizzie trailed her aunt and uncle and smiled as they introduced her to their hosts. Lord and Lady Delcourt greeted her so politely that she almost forgot to be nervous, especially when she executed her curtsies under her aunt’s critical eye.

Slowly.

This was not the place to rush and prove herself clumsy. Her aunt would never forgive her the embarrassment.

Lizzie released a sigh of relief when the greetings were completed without incident, though she nearly trod upon her uncle’s heels when her aunt paused at the ballroom threshold for dramatic effect. Lizzie barely stepped to the side quickly enough to avoid disaster.

The room was alight with movement from the swirl of dancers and the glow of candlelight. Fans fluttered, jewels glittered and the heat of so many bodies pressed in on them.

Lizzie was excited and scared at the same time. Even after years of being out in society, the room seemed full of strangers—influential and intimidating strangers. She’d always been nervous meeting people, but now her anxiety was multiplied by the growing urgency to secure a marriage contract before she was considered to be on the shelf and passed over entirely.

Lizzie didn’t think she deluded herself when she chalked up the reason for a lack of offers to something other than her appearance. She was atleast passable, and her dowry was not unattractive. Rather, it seemed fairly certain that her discomfort around strangers and tendency toward bumbling to be the culprit. Even her dance partners managed to disappear after she tramped on their toes once too often.

Thankfully, few took notice of their arrival. It helped to settle her nerves a bit, though she was grateful when they finally made it across the room so her aunt could join her friends and her uncle could make his escape from his wife’s side. That left Lizzie to stand alone on the perimeter, hoping for anonymity. At this point, her biggest desire was to make it through the evening without embarrassment.

She took a deep breath and scanned the room for a familiar face, but recognized few. Now that Angelica Fortney—oh, but it was Lady Vinedale now, wasn’t it?—was back in town from her wedding trip, Lizzie had hoped to find her at the event. As luck was not her strong suit, her friend didn’t appear to be present.

She knew better than to expect to find Angelica’s older brother in attendance. Wainsborough did not go to events that included scheming mothers.

Ever since she had met him earlier in the week, ever so briefly on the square outside Gunter’s Tea Shop, Lizzie had been unable to forget the tall, somber man that made her heart race and mouth go dry. Had even imagined those light green eyes of his, alight with interest as he looked at her.

Futile dreams. Oliver Fortney was the sixth Duke of Wainsborough, as far from her reach as the moon.

“I would like to make known to you my niece, Miss Elspeth Talbot, who is woolgathering as usual.” Lizzie straightened and forced a polite smile. “Elspeth, this is my dearest friend Lady Wrothton, and her son, the Honorable Francis Layton.”

“My lady. Sir.”

Mr. Layton had kindly eyes and his smile seemed more than polite as he bowed over her hand. Was he interested, perhaps? It would be nice to have a beau. Her first.

Lizzie smiled, this time with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of encouragement. Mr. Layton’s eyes twinkled in response.

“Mr. Layton is only recently come to London, Lizzie.” Roberta looked on, an expectant matchmaker.

“Oh? Have you been traveling, sir?”

He puffed his chest a bit, as a chaffinch would to attract the ladies then proceeded to regale her with tales of his travels across Egypt in search of antiquities.

“I’d be delighted to show you some of my more choice finds.” Mr. Layton’s smile revealed a row of neat white teeth. “For now, Miss Talbot, may I have this dance?”

When Aunt Roberta nodded her approval, Lizzie accepted and selected a place in the line of dancers beside Lady Cecilia, who was now copiously molting feathers from her bright gown.

The musicians struck up a country dance and Lizzie lost herself in the music and snatches of conversation she could exchange with Mr. Layton as they passed each other. Lizzie felt good, almost as if she fit in. She felt lighter than she had in a long time and began to dance with pure abandon.

In other words, she forgot to pay attention.

She wasn’t watching her footing as she neared the end of the dance line, skipping across the polished wood parquet. So, when her soft-soled shoe landed just so on one of Lady Cecilia’s wayward feathers, she lost her footing and went sliding higgledy-piggledy across the herringbone patterned floor.

Time slowed as if to make certain she would recall every excruciating moment in finite detail, and she skidded toward the throng of people bordering the dancing area. No one moved as Lizzie hurtled like a human ball toward a line of pins. Little wonder bowls was still illegal on public lawns.

Lizzie closed her eyes and braced for the worst.

She should have known better. Lizzie Talbot was an impending disaster, even on her most diligent days.

Tonight she would prove herself a pariah.