Page 15 of Sensibly Wed

A quiet scoff ripped from my throat. “You did not win the wager last night.”

“I believe I did, but we were interrupted before you could admit as much.”

It was not good to begin our marriage on a lie, so I could not argue his point. But I could not do it. I could not stand up with him until anxious energy filled me to the point of fainting. My nerves were frayed already—fainting would only frighten him and make me look a fool.

“I must find Marianne or Eliza. I need to prove that nothing has altered for me.”

James’s smile grew tight. “Ah, yes. Do not let me stand in the way of your chance to remove yourself from any obligation to me.”

It was impossible to tell for certain, but it nearly sounded as though James was hurt by the very idea. I could not reconcile it. Perhaps he was unused to rejection or the concept that a woman would not want to change her entire life to marry him, stranger or not. He was exceedingly handsome, well-regarded and from a respectable family, and he was flush enough in the pockets to not require an enormous dowry. So his confidence was seemingly warranted.

It was plain that he was settling for me—or for the prospect of no longer needing to seek a wife—and yet, he did not act as though that was the case.

Marianne Hutton entered the room on her mother’s arm. “I must go to my friend. I will . . . find you later, James, if that is what you wish.”

“It is,” he said quietly.

I slipped away before I could think deeply on the meaning behind his behavior this evening and crossed the ever-filling ballroom toward the Huttons. Mrs. Hutton had stopped to speak to another woman, but Marianne stood a few feet away, and I approached her, dropping into a curtsy.

“Good evening, Marianne.”

She looked startled, her gaze snapping from me to her mother. “G-good evening, Felicity.”

“I did not have the opportunity to speak to you last night, but your ball was beautiful.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting again toward her mother. Leaning in, she lowered her voice. “I cannot be seen speaking to you, Felicity. Not until the scandal has passed. Please do not make me walk away. I value your friendship too great to treat you so abominably.”

My stomach dropped clear to my feet, and I gave her a strained smile, dipping my head before turning away again. At least she had done me the courtesy of explaining herself instead of delivering a cut. I found Eliza Gould not far off among a group of young ladies and stepped in their direction, but each of them turned away before I could move any closer.

I had never felt comfortable in a ballroom, but neither had I ever felt so isolated as I did in that moment. My hands trembled, and my lungs failed to secure a full breath. I searched for my mother and found her standing equally isolated on the other side of the room.

Mr. Peel’s copper hair stood out among the crowd, and I decided—in a fit of pure lunacy, obviously—to pass before him on my way back to my mother’s side. If he ignored me as well, then I was well and truly sunk.

If not, then I would pay for the relief of having something of a reputation remaining to my name by being forced to accept his plea to dance, as he undoubtedly would offer. It was worth the prospect of fainting in order to prove to my parents and to James that things were not so dire as they seemed.

The entirety of my walk across the ballroom provided me with enough proof that I was the center of tonight’s gossip. My name was whispered in conjunction with Mr. Bradwell’s everywhere I stepped, and people moved out of my path as though I was Moses and they the Red Sea. By the time I reached the area where Mr. Peel stood, I found myself pleading silently that he would step into my path and halt me, but I continued to walk by, and he turned his head away after catching my gaze.

I could not even pretend to myself that he had not seen me, for I’d caught his panicked expression.

My vision sparkled darkly at the edges, my breath coming rapidly from the stares directed at me throughout the room. I reached for Mama’s arm like a beacon and clutched her, willing my heart to calm and the black to recede.

Mama took my hand and squeezed my fingers. Tears welled in my eyes, and I did my best to blink them away, then closed my eyes and focused on controlling my breathing. “I was a fool to suggest this.”

“No, you were full of hope,” Mama corrected gently. “A fool has lost all hope.”

“Mr. Peel would not even look at me.”

“That is entirely his loss,” James said, appearing at my side at once. Instruments tuned in preparation to begin the dancing, and he lifted his hand toward me. “May I have my dance now, Miss Thurston?”

I looked from his outstretched hand to his earnest face. “I was not being modest, sir. I truly cannot dance.”

Mama scoffed quietly. “Yes, you can. Of all the times to submit to your nerves, now is not the moment to give up.” She turned to James. “Only, be prepared to catch her, should the need arise.”

“Catch her?”

My cheeks warmed, and I did not want to explain. “We better not.”

Mama was not even apologetic when she whispered, “I am afraid after the way you were just thoroughly rebuffed, you no longer have a choice.”