Chapter 9
Juliet seemed to have forgotten about her incident with Mr. Fairweather—until we were leaving for Lady Snowden’s ball.
“What if no one dances with me?” she said, holding onto my arm and whispering so Jeremy wouldn’t hear.
“They will,” I whispered back. “Lady Snowden wouldn’t have invited you if the gossips were talking about you.”
Juliet nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“All will be well.”
“Yes, and Mr. Shelley promised to dance the first dance with me.”
“And Lord Gotthurst the second. So there is nothing to worry about.”
“How does it feel to have a baron asking to dance the first dance with you?” Juliet was no longer whispering, and by Jeremy turning his eyes on us, I was sure he heard.
“He seems an agreeable gentleman.”
Juliet gave me a wry smile.
When we arrived, the hostess Lady Snowden was particularly friendly with us. I was introduced to her daughter, Miss Anne Snowden. She looked quite young, but was certainly of marriageable age, and she was smiling and bridling at Jeremy Beaumont.
He asked her for the first dance.
“Of course, Mr. Beaumont,” she said. “I would be delighted.”
Lady Snowden was a baroness and a widow, and by the opulence of her townhome, with its enormous ballroom and marble floors, she was quite wealthy.
Juliet and I made our way to where the musicians were already in place and several small groups of people were conversing, while Mr. Beaumont fetched refreshments.
“Shelley and Gotthurst are just arriving,” he said quietly as he handed each of us a small glass of lemonade he brought over.
Juliet turned so fast she sloshed a few drops on her pale blue dress.
I gasped before I could stop myself, but Juliet didn’t even flinch as she smiled and waved to Mr. Shelley and his friend.
The two gentlemen made their way to us. We exchanged greetings, and the five of us stood talking until the first dance was announced, all dancers being encouraged to proceed to the floor.
Jeremy found Miss Snowden and escorted her to the floor, Mr. Shelley escorted Juliet, and Lord Gotthurst escorted me.
Lord Gotthurst’s curls had been subdued into a popular style, high and combed to the side and across his forehead but not quite touching his black eyebrows, and he wore a perfectly cut jacket and matching trousers.
I couldn’t help noticing how his warm brown eyes remained on me, never leaving my face.
The music started, and other than the slight nervousness I always felt at dancing in a crowd, fearing I might make a mistake and everyone would see, I wasn’t sure my heart had ever felt lighter.
The dance was a long one. We talked about the last theatrical we’d seen, and it turned out we’d both been at the same one—the only one I’d ever attended, when Juliet and I had gone with her cousins the Lynches. It seemed he had enjoyed it, but not as much as I had.
After the dance, we retired to a spot by the wall and were joined by Jeremy after he escorted Miss Snowden back to her mama.
A young lady and her mother approached. I’d met her but wasn’t sure of her name. Miss Blalock? Miss Blankenship? Miss Blackstock? I couldn’t quite remember.
Whatever her name, she had a sour look on her face, and her mother resembled a widow at her husband’s funeral.
“Miss Beaumont. Mr. Shelley,” she said.
“Miss Bloomburg,” Juliet and Mr. Shelley said in unison.
Bloomburg. That was it.
She stood there as her mother said, “Miss Juliet, I believe my friend saw you in the company of a young gentleman in an open curricle late one evening. Is he your fiancé?”
My stomach dropped. Oh no.
Juliet looked pale. She sounded breathless as she said in a low voice, “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
Jeremy’s face was as angry as I’d ever seen it, but he stepped toward Miss Bloomburg and said, “I believe it is time for the second dance. Would you do me the honor?”
The young lady looked surprised. “Why, yes.” She smiled and gave him her hand.
Her mother’s lips opened slightly, then closed, as she stepped aside to let them pass. She seemed torn between expressing judgment about Juliet’s conduct and delight at Jeremy Beaumont asking her daughter to dance.
Juliet and I switched partners and joined the other dancers beginning to take their places. Juliet was starting to smile again, and I breathed a sigh.
I felt a little sorry for Miss Bloomburg, having to stand opposite Jeremy when he looked angry enough to fire his pistol in a duel and not at all like a gentleman standing up with a pretty dance partner.
That is, I might have felt sorry for her if she had not just brought her mother over to purposely slight Juliet in front of Mr. Shelley.
Miss Bloomburg had her nose in the air, a disdainful smile on her face.
I gazed across at Mr. Shelley. He did look more sober than before, but his smile returned as we started to dance.
Mr. Shelley was a courteous partner, but I was glad to see him glancing away from me and toward Juliet. I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be put off by what that jealous mama had said.
When the dance was over, Lord Gotthurst said, “May we get you some more lemonade?”
Our cups had long been taken away on a servant’s tray.
We thanked him, and he and Mr. Shelley walked toward the refreshments.
“I wonder if they will return,” Juliet said, “after what Mrs. Bloomburg said about me.”
“They wouldn’t abandon us.” Would they?
Jeremy stood with us, looking like a cobra guarding its eggs.
I might have laughed out loud at that analogy if I weren’t so afraid that Juliet’s reputation was being ruined even as we stood there.
But Mr. Shelley and Lord Gotthurst did return, and Juliet’s face lit up.
We sipped our lemonade as a gentleman came over and greeted Mr. Shelley and Lord Gotthurst. “May I introduce you to some of my family?” he asked. And they excused themselves and walked away.
They were probably relieved to be parted from us. After all, if they’d danced with us again so soon, it would have been almost a declaration of engagement.
As soon as they moved away, two more gentlemen who had danced with us at the last ball drew near and asked us to dance. And so the rest of the night progressed. There were only one or two gentlemen I was acquainted with who seemed to pointedly avoid dancing with us.
At one point, Jeremy was talking with his sister and me when a gentleman came and asked Juliet to dance, leaving the two of us. After an awkward moment, Jeremy asked me, “Would you honor me with this dance, Miss Moore?”
“Of course.”
As much as I knew he disliked me and I disliked him, he was an agreeable dance partner, and I’d rather dance than watch everyone else.
At a slow point in the dance, as we waited our turn, he said, “Everything seems to be going well with Juliet.”
“Yes, I daresay. Thankfully.” Of course, we were both thinking of what Mrs. Bloomburg had said, but enough gentlemen had asked Juliet to dance that we were allowed to hope it was only an isolated incident.
He was attentive to me, even when I saw Miss Snowden gazing in his direction while she danced with another young gentleman.
He had a respectful look in his eyes and held my hand just the right amount of time, not too long and not as if my hand were a hot iron he must release as soon as possible.
And I knew from observation that he treated other women that way.
When the dance was over and we walked back to our place, a gentleman turned abruptly and bumped into my shoulder, so hard that I stumbled back a step.
“Please forgive me.” He turned to Jeremy. “Beaumont, introduce me to this lady so that I might ask her properly to forgive my clumsiness.”
“This is Mr. Oglethorpe of Bedfordshire. May I present Miss Amelia Moore of Buckinghamshire.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said very courteously. “And please forgive me for being a boorish lout. I’m forever bumping into things. I blame my height.”
He was rather tall.
“All is forgiven, Mr. Oglethorpe.”
“Would you do me the honor of dancing this next dance with me, if you’ve not promised it to someone else?”
“Of course.”
The dance was about to begin, so we joined the others. I was beginning to consider him as handsome and agreeable as Lord Gotthurst. He escorted me back to where Jeremy was talking with another gentleman.
As we reached Jeremy, an older woman approached us. I could see that Mr. Oglethorpe was about to introduce me. But the lady, who I suspected was his mother, swatted him with her fan and whispered loudly, “You are not to waste time with that lady. She has no fortune.”
Mr. Oglethorpe’s expression froze. Before he could react, I turned my back to them both, pretending I hadn’t heard, my cheeks beginning to burn.
Lord Gotthurst was walking toward me. As soon as he reached me, he said, “Would we cause the gossips’ tongues to wag if you danced with me this last dance?”
“I neither know nor care.”
He led me to the floor, and Mr. Shelley and Juliet followed us.
Having danced the first and last dances with the same partners, a few words would probably be said about us, but since we’d danced with other partners in between, I hoped we were safe from being labeled “off the market.” I little cared for myself, but I didn’t want Lord Gotthurst to feel trapped in any way.
Mostly, I was just happy Mr. Shelley hadn’t been put off, for I believed Juliet very much liked him.
As we were making our way to take our leave of the hostess, Mrs. Kendall, whom I’d seen occasionally throughout the evening, came hurrying up to me and pulled me aside.
“I managed to hush up the gossip very well, as you have seen.”
I was glad she was speaking low enough, and we were far away enough, that no one could hear her, but I kept glancing around, praying no one would approach.
“You have caught the eye of the baron, Lord Gotthurst. Well done, my dear, well done.” She smiled triumphantly.
Thinking of Mr. Oglethorpe and his mother, part of me wanted to tell her that I had no fortune and therefore was too poor for any baron, or anyone else in her social set, but I refrained.