“I suppose you are right. I shall be very proud to be Mrs. Nicholas Langdon.” She let out a long, dramatic sigh.
It was positively astonishing that Phoebe could be so indiscreet about the object of her affections, after Julia had taken such pains to warn her not to display her feelings so openly. But at least Phoebe was honest. Julia often didn’t tell even Phoebe, the person she was closer to than anyone else, what she was thinking and feeling.
Finally, they arrived. Julia looked around, but she saw neither Mr. Daniel Dinklage nor anyone else of her acquaintance. Perhaps it was God’s way of keeping her from flirting with Mr. Dinklage.
Julia was almost sorry that the hostess would have no need of her to play the pianoforte, as Mrs. Caldwell had hired a small orchestra for the ball. Julia played to calm her own emotions, whether sadness, contentment, joy, or frustration. Letting her fingers draw music from the ivory keys eased any gloomy feelings and enhanced the more joyful ones. She often closed her eyes and let the beauty of it take her out of the melancholy she felt when Phoebe was angry or sulking about something, or when her cousin’s grandparents came to call, doting on Phoebe and treating Julia like an unwanted guest, reminding her that her own parents and grandparents were long dead.
Julia stood talking, or, rather, listening, as Phoebe and two of her friends, who were just out in society and in their first Season, gossiped and giggled and drew attention to themselves.
More people arrived. Through the milling crowd, Julia saw Mr. Dinklage across the room. He bent toward two dowagers who held him in conversation. Julia smiled quite purposefully at him and nodded. He looked startled, suddenly straightening. He turned around to see who was behind him, looking over his left shoulder, and then his right, and then at Julia. She kept smiling.
Barely ten feet to Mr. Dinklage’s left, Mr. Nicholas Langdon was staring at her with those strangely thoughtful brown eyes. The corner of his mouth went down even as his brow quirked up in an expression that was at once questioning and amused.
Julia’s attention was pulled away by Phoebe and her friends asking her if she intended to dance.
“Of course, if someone asks me,” Julia said, feigning a smile.
“I hope someone asks me,” said one of the girls.
“I hope a certain someone asks me,” Phoebe said archly.
The others giggled, and a blonde with pale eyes added, “I hope your certain someone—Mr. Nicholas Langdon—asks me too.”
Everyone laughed except Phoebe.
“Don’t look at me like that, Phoebe Wilhern. You have no reason to keep him to yourself, and he’s the most handsome man here.”
But Phoebe’s lips remained pressed into a thin line, and she turned away from the group and walked with her nose in the air—in Mr. Langdon’s direction.
The dancers got ready for the first dance as the music was already starting. Mr. Langdon had found a partner and was leading her to the floor. Phoebe changed direction and stood with an air of nonchalance by a group of young men.
Mr. Dinklage was still staring at Julia, his face suffused with a befuddled blush.
Sarah Peck’s distressed countenance appeared in her memory. Hadn’t Julia promised not to dissuade any respectable suitor? Wouldn’t it be foolish of her to ignore a gentleman who was interested in her? A man with the means to marry her? Of course, she must explore her options, must give the man a chance to secure her affections.
She continued trying to participate in the conversation around her, but it quickly degenerated into a game to see who could bestow the highest praise on Mr. Langdon. Julia was wondering how she might extricate herself to go in search of more mature conversation, when she looked up to see Mr. Dinklage stepping hesitantly to her side.
“May I bring you some lemonade, Miss Grey?”
“You are very thoughtful, Mr. Dinklage. Thank you.”
Mr. Langdon was dancing with a young lady, at that moment passing close to where Julia stood with the other young ladies bent on praising him. The girls didn’t seem to notice his presence, however, and Mr. Langdon gave Julia a slight smile before turning back to his partner.
“Julia, didn’t you hear me?”
“What?” Julia turned to Emma Holcomb.
“Are you getting overheated, Julia? Do you need to get some air?”
“You do look a bit flushed,” another girl said.
“No, no, I am quite well.”
“I was asking if you had ever been to Bath.”
“Oh yes, once. It was lovely.” Why did Mr. Langdon have such an ability to discompose her? She vowed not to pay him the least attention.
When the dance was over, Mr. Dinklage was hovering at her side. She took the drink from his hand. “Thank you.”
She looked up to see her friend Felicity Mayson walking toward them.
“Felicity.” Julia grabbed her friend’s hand. “If I may, I’d like to introduce Mr. Daniel Dinklage.”
They exchanged pleasantries, with Mr. Dinklage blushing, glancing away and back, and generally looking as if he’d never been in polite society before tonight.