“Shall we assume you’re hiding from someone?” the young lady pressed.
“Indeed, but . . . don’t look over at the refreshment table. That might draw unwanted notice.”
Unfortunately, that warning immediately had the young lady craning her neck, while the other young lady sat forward, peering over Miss Griswold’s shoulder in an apparent effort to get a better view of the refreshment table.
“Who are you hiding from?” Miss Griswold asked out of the corner of her mouth, having the good sense to keep her attention front and center.
“Mr. Edgar Wanamaker, the gentleman you were inquiring about,” Wilhelmina admitted.
“Mr. Wanamaker’s here?” the young lady with the unfortunate hairstyle repeated as she actually stood up and edged around Wilhelmina, stepping on Wilhelmina’s hand in the process. “Is he the gentleman with the dark hair and . . . goodness . . . very broad shoulders . . . and the one now looking our way? Why, I heard earlier this evening that he’s returned to town with a fortune at his disposal—a fortune that, rumor has it, is certain to turn from respectable to impressive in the not too distant future.”
“You don’t say,” Wilhelmina muttered as she tried to tug her hand out from underneath the lady’s shoe.
“Miss Cadwalader, you’re grinding poor Miss Radcliff’s hand into the floor.”
Looking up, Wilhelmina stopped her tugging as she met the gaze of the other young lady sitting in the second row of the wallflower section, a lady who was looking somewhat appalled by the fact she’d apparently spoken those words out loud. Without saying another word, the lady rose to her feet, shook out the folds of a gown that was several seasons out of date, whispered something regarding not wanting to be involved in any shenanigans, and then dashed straightaway.
“I wasn’t aware Miss Flowerdew was even capable of speech,” the lady still standing on Wilhelmina’s hand said before she suddenly seemed to realize that she was, indeed, grinding Wilhelmina’s hand into the ground. Jumping to the left, she sent Wilhelmina a bit of a strained smile. “Do forgive me, Miss Radcliff. I fear with all the intrigue occurring at the moment, paired with hearing Miss Flowerdew string an entire sentence together, well, I evidently quite lost my head and simply didn’t notice I was standing on you.”
She thrust a hand Wilhelmina’s way. “I’m Miss Gertrude Cadwalader, paid companion to Mrs. Davenport. Please do accept my apologies for practically maiming you this evening, although rest assured, it is an unusual event for me to maim a person on a frequent basis.”
Taking the offered hand in hers—although she did so rather gingerly since her hand had almost been maimed by Miss Cadwalader—Wilhelmina gave it a shake, a circumstance she still found a little peculiar, but resisted when Miss Cadwalader began trying to tug her to her feet.
“How fortunate for Mrs. Davenport that you don’t participate in maiming often,” she began. “But if you don’t mind, I prefer staying down here for the foreseeable future, since I have no desire for Mr. Wanamaker to take notice of me this evening.”
“Ah, so we really are in the midst of an intrigue,” Miss Cadwalader breathed before she straightened, squeezed her way through the first row of chairs, and then held out her hand to Miss Griswold, who’d been keeping her attention front and center. “We should hide her.”
Miss Griswold didn’t hesitate. Taking the hand offered her, she rose to her feet, shook out her skirts, sent Wilhelmina the smallest of smiles and turned front and center again. “Perhaps we should engage in conversation, Miss Cadwalader, in order to distract everyone from the idea we’re trying to hide someone.”
“That would most assuredly draw unwanted attention,” Miss Cadwalader returned as she shook out her skirts, making them wider in the process. “You know no one is used to seeing wallflowers actually conversing with one an—”
Whatever else Miss Cadwalader had been about to say got lost when she let out a small squeak and motioned with a hand behind her back for Wilhelmina to stay down.
“Good evening, ladies,” a deep voice—one that Wilhelmina knew full well belonged, to Mr. Edgar Wanamaker—suddenly said. “I know this is very untoward of me, speaking to you without the benefit of a proper introduction, but I’ve just learned that the quadrille is about to begin. As I’m sure you’re well aware, those particular dances can take quite a bit of time to perform. I’m hoping you’ll take pity on a weary gentleman and allow that gentleman, as in me, to join you on those oh-so-delightful-looking chairs as we watch the chosen guests perform their well-rehearsed dance steps.”
“Ah . . . well . . . as to that,” Miss Cadwalader began. “You see . . . ah . . .”
“Did I mention that I brought treats?” Edgar continued.
“Treats?” Miss Cadwalader repeated. “What type of treats?”