Chapter 8 Livy
Livy
“Thank you for the pleasure of a dance, Miss Forester.” Lord Brambleton bowed over Livy’s hand.
She dipped a curtsy, a smile plastered on her face. As he walked away, she let her shoulders slump. A fan tapped her back, and she snapped upright.
“Thank you, Aunt Mellie,” she grumbled.
Tonight was exhausting. Her neck and back ached from keeping her posture faultless. Her cheeks were sore from smiling, most of which had been forced. And now her feet felt as though they’d been trampled by a pasture of cattle. Her energy seeped from her, and along with it, her good spirits.
A wide-eyed wonder had initially settled over her when her slippered feet had met the marble tiles of the Chesterfield’s grandiose entry.
And that had just been the entry. When she’d stepped into the ballroom, filled with ladies in the most exquisite gowns she’d ever seen, all she’d been able to do was stand there dumbly underneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, her feet forgetting how to function.
She’d never seen such brilliance. It was silly, but it had been like she’d walked into a whole new world.
One she was never meant to be a part of.
Then she’d spotted Warren from across the ballroom, caught his eye for the briefest of moments.
And, in the most heartbreaking of fashions, he’d abruptly turned and presented his back to her, taking every bit of her delight with him.
She knew he’d seen her too. One didn’t look like a stunned owl for nothing.
Her weathered gown, fashioned from inferior materials, lacking adornment or jewels, had suddenly seemed like a glaring symbol of inadequacy.
She spread her fan and closed it repeatedly, staring blindly at the movement.
She didn’t belong here. Could she really do this?
If this were a Bernoulli trial, she could deem it a failure.
“None of that, Olivia.”
Livy glanced at Aunt Mellie, an endless number of concern lines crinkling her aunt’s forehead.
“I can see your morose thoughts. They’re hovering like gnats.
We knew this would be difficult. We are coming up from the dredges.
It will take time. I know Lord Brambleton is far from what you—or I—would consider a suitable husband, but being out on the dance floor allows you to be seen.
I have been watching. The gentlemen are noticing.
You are one of the most beautiful women in this room. ”
She tried to smile for her aunt, and she managed something.
By her aunt’s reaction, it wasn’t very good.
It was hard to be excited about gentlemen noticing her.
Because none of those gentlemen were Warren.
And a tiny part of herself, the awkward girl who still lived inside, all gangly limbs and too-large front teeth, deflated at the thought that all she had to attract a man was the beauty she’d grown into.
For now.
She was going to change that. Remember the plan, Livy.
By the time she was done, she’d be sought after.
Warren would have to line up behind all the gentlemen vying for her hand.
Oh dear. That had been quite petty. It wasn’t Warren’s fault the world had created these strict rules, these rigid roles they were required to conform to.
Livy brought her fan up to cover her mouth and leaned toward her aunt. “He smelled awful, Aunt Mellie. You cannot begin to understand how difficult it was to suffer through that dance with a smile on my face. And I think he broke my foot when he stomped on it.”
Aunt Mellie chuckled. “Yes, I did see that. You recovered quite nicely. Why don’t you step out to the retiring room for a brief respite? You have a break in your sets, yes?”
Livy shot her aunt a dry look. “You know as well as I that the remainder of my dances are unclaimed.” She let out a frustrated groan. “And after my first dance, it will remain that way, unless there are more of Lord Brambleton’s ilk circling the ballroom.”
She traced her toe over the seams in the parquet flooring.
“I cannot believe I started talking about the Probabilities and Duration of Human Life by Richard Price. The gentleman is surely spreading the word that I’m a morbid oddity.
” But she’d been so amazed—the man was one of ten children.
Ten successful births. Ten children surviving infancy.
Surviving childhood. Statistically speaking…
it was astonishing. Goodness, the probability was less than 0. 1%.
“Yes, that was an unfortunate slip. But I highly doubt he even understood what you were saying, let alone has the ability to repeat it. Heaven knows I could never repeat half of what you and your papa discuss.”
Aunt Mellie patted her arm, warm eyes so full of understanding that Livy’s belly flipped over.
“I wish I had better connections, dearest, but your uncle and I truly didn’t spend much time in London.
They’re limited, and I don’t see any familiar faces here tonight.
The only reason we were able to garner an invitation to this ball is because I happened to run into Lady Chesterfield yesterday while fetching a new pair of gloves.
I think she was delighted by the prospect of some fresh intrigue at her ball—an unknown young lady coming out.
I promise you I will start taking tea with anyone I can reconnect with to see if we can broaden our circles. ”
“I appreciate that, Aunt Mellie,” Livy said quietly.
She truly did appreciate everything her aunt was doing. And she needed to give this everything she had in return. No moping. No second-guessing. Just a quick moment to reclaim her resolve.
“I think I will take that respite now to collect myself before any future dances.” If there would even be any. No. Stop that, Livy. A strategist does not give up. They analyze results, discard what doesn’t work, and continue to improve on what does.
She edged her way around the crowd, making for one of the doors leading out of the ballroom.
One benefit of being unknown in society was anonymity.
She easily slipped away. For now. She had noticed a few whispers behind fans and gazes looking in her direction.
They were assessing, weighing her worth, deciding if they found her lacking.
An uncomfortable fluttering built in her gut.
Olivia Forester didn’t have the most promising history when it came to that.
She lifted her chin. But that was going to change.
She escaped through the door and immediately crashed into a firm chest.
“Oh, goodness! My apologies…” She trailed off, her gaze landing on a set of familiar misty blue eyes. Warren.
The hands that had reached out to steady her dropped off her person as if burned. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Miss Forester.” His gaze darted down either side of the empty hallway.
“Mr. Thorton.” She dipped a curtsy and smiled up at him. Perhaps now that she could talk to him, he might be willing to ask her to dance. “It’s a pleasure to see—”
“I should be going. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen together.” He took a hasty step backward. “Apologies for the collision.”
She opened her mouth, words sticking in her throat.
His face softened, and he murmured, “I’m sorry, Liv. I just… I don’t have a choice in this. If my parents see us conversing…” With one last whispered apology, he stepped around her and disappeared back into the ballroom.
She blinked dumbly at the spot Warren had just vacated. He couldn’t even be seen with her? She’d known she had some changes to make, including her standing in society. A standing that currently did not exist.
That girl isn’t suited for society. It would be cruel. She’d only bring me embarrassment.
That might have been true once, but after she’d grown into her limbs, grace had come easily to her.
Her teeth and ears seemed rather proportionate to her face now.
Though she still hadn’t managed to control her mathematical ramblings.
She knew she was nobody of consequence. She just hadn’t realized she truly was… an embarrassment.
She needed to find the retiring room, or at least an empty chamber, before she lost her composure. Her blood was running hot with frustration, yet something ice-cold had formed in her stomach. Her thoughts couldn’t seem to process themselves.
Livy had never understood how terrifying change was up until this moment.
How na?ve she was to think she’d just travel to London and improve herself, win Warren’s affections as easy as that.
No, it was going to consist of her constantly putting herself on display on nights like tonight, serving herself up for judgement.
Stepping into a skin that didn’t fit her.
She just had to hope that eventually she’d grow into it.
Change took time. It was uncomfortable. Unsettling.
She could really use a hard ride with Bonny right about now. Her throat tightened. Livy hadn’t realized how much she’d miss the country. She strode down the hallway, heart sinking. How had things gotten so turned around?
A rosy-cheeked woman exited a room up ahead and hurried down the hallway in Livy’s direction, patting her coiffure. She—Lady Torrington, Livy thought she was—glanced down her nose at Livy as she passed. Livy attempted a friendly smile and cast her gaze to the floor.
After the woman passed by, Livy glanced at the door the woman had come from. Thank the stars, the retiring room. Please let it be empty. She needed a moment to herself. Then she would don her armor again.
She pushed the door open and rushed inside.