“How much longer before we go?”
“Go? We just got here,” she says, surprised.
I glance over at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “It’s been nearly two hours,” I complain.
Her face is sympathetic. “Are you still feeling unwell?”
I nod. Really, I just want to grab a pen and paper and write all of this down—I swear a thousand stories are swirling in my head—but I can’t very well tell her that.
“Bear up, darling,” she says, straightening my satin choker. “Only a few more hours and we’ll be on our way.”
I stifle a groan, and I’ve made up my mind to get off my feet when someone taps my shoulder.
“May I have this dance?”
I turn at the familiar sound of that voice, and I almost start laughing. Holy cow. Would you look at Ben!
He’s dressed in a severe black greatcoat, a green-and-gold waistcoat, and a top hat with a really tacky hatband to match the busy pattern on the vest. He even has a lacy cravat to complete the look, and the overall effect is like some sort of elegant peacock. This is so far from the nerdy, joking jock I know. I take his hand and can’t help but smile.
“Hello, Miss St. Clair,” he says, moving smoothly through the dance. “I do hope you remember me.”
I do. His family moved into town just a few months ago. I’m taught by a governess in this reality, so instead of attending school together, he and I were introduced at a cotillion last summer.
“Of course I do, Mr. Hastings. It’s nice to see you again.”
“May I offer my congratulations upon the happy occasion of your engagement?”
I smile even bigger. He’s so … formal. It sounds ridiculous.
“You may. And thank you.”
“I had hoped you might wait a little longer and choose your intended with more care,” he offers. “Since money is not a concern for you.”
What’s that supposed to mean? I stop paying attention to the dance steps and look up at him, and he looks kind of … sad.
“My parents thought it was best to have the matter resolved.” I try to keep the tone of my voice pleasant, but it’s hard. I still have a hard time understanding how parents can support their child marrying a stranger. It’s just crazy to me. Apparently, I’m not alone in that sentiment.
“I see,” Ben says carefully. He gives a slight bow over my hand as the music comes to a stop, and then he turns on his heel and strides out of the room, oblivious to the crowd of young ladies who are giggling as he passes. One of them peels off to come over to me.
“You’re Jessamyn, aren’t you?” she asks, waving her lacy fan against the heat of the ballroom.
“Yes. I believe we’ve met,” I say, remembering. “Olivia, right?”
“That’s right. And now that you’re engaged, I can finally stop hating you quite so much,” she says with an impish smile.
I give her a startled look. “Hating me?” What did I ever do to her? I search my memories, but nothing comes to mind.
“I’m teasing, of course.” She swats me playfully with her fan. “I’m just relieved to see you safely on the shelf, leaving room for the rest of us to pursue our dear Mr. Hastings. I’ve been swooning over him ever since he arrived in town, but he’s only had eyes for you.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” I say awkwardly. “He and I are simply acquaintances.”
She stares off toward the doorway, as if hoping for one more glimpse of Ben’s retreating back. “You will do me the favor of an introduction the next time he’s about, won’t you?” She turns pleading eyes up at me, and I shrug.
“Sure. Happy to help.”
“Oh, they’re starting another waltz,” Olivia notes breathlessly. “Mother considers them a scandal, but how else is girl going to get close enough to a man to really get to know him?”
“How, indeed,” I improvise, hoping I sound Victorian enough. I think I’ve got most of the lingo down around here, but I can’t even begin to copy the accent.
Olivia shuffles off with a wave of her fan, and I decide I’m going to try to find somewhere to sit down in this crush of people. It’s warm in here, too. How do women do this stuff in all this clothing? It’s crazy.
I walk along the outside edge of the crowd, sticking close to the wall as I spy the open French doors leading out to the gardens on the other side of the room. I make my way over to them, stepping out into the cool night air with a sigh of relief.
They have the pathway to the gardens lit with gas lanterns, and the smell of magnolia and jasmine mixes with the breeze off the water. It’s just beautiful, and I’m honestly enjoying myself until some semi-drunken dandy stumbles down the path and comes to a screeching halt in front of me.