Chapter Eleven #2
Mrs. Summerfield beamed. Miss Summerfield looked only more miserable.
Jack might have been offended if he didn’t see in her eyes a desperation to simply be granted a moment’s respite from the demands of the social whirl.
She was quiet, precisely the sort of person who, if the exact opposite wasn’t absolutely required of her, would have kept home, interacting with only the smallest number of her closest associates.
How did her family not see that? Perhaps they simply didn’t care.
“This is the supper dance, Mother,” she said. “It has been claimed.”
The supper dance. He had engaged Odette for the supper dance. How could he politely extricate himself from his current company so he could find her?
“Who has claimed it?” Mrs. Summerfield asked. “No one appears to be approaching.”
Both ladies glanced about, confusion and concern on their faces. He could not simply walk away, no matter his commitment to Odette. He could be a moment late, though he could not, would not relinquish entirely the opportunity to stand up with her and spend the length of supper at her side.
“Mr. Tolmer was meant to stand up with me for this set,” Miss Summerfield said. “Where do you suppose he is?”
Jack knew Tolmer. He was not one to fail in his duties. Jack looked around as well. “I saw him not thirty minutes ago.” Odd.
“You don’t suppose he has run out on his promise?” Miss Summerfield sounded somehow both hopeful and despondent. She’d likely enjoy a respite for the length of a set, yet abandonment did no young lady’s reputation nor happiness any good.
Where was Tolmer? People nearby were beginning to take note of the situation.
“Mr. Hewitt, please will you stand up with her? This humiliation is too much for her delicate feelings.”
“I am engaged for this set,” he said. “I would not wish to do Miss Armistead such a disservice.”
Miss Summerfield, in an admirable show of strength, turned an empathetic gaze on him, but one undermined by the sheen of tears in her eyes. “You must go claim your set. Odette will be quite counting on it.”
“I could spare a moment more to look for Tolmer,” he offered.
Odette arrived unheralded at his side. “Mr. Hewitt. Here you are.”
An overloud whisper from somewhere nearby cut into the brief moment of silence that followed. “The Princess Pompous will order him beheaded.”
Jack pushed down a sharp retort and instead smiled at Odette. “Forgive the delay. Miss Summerfield has been engaged for this dance, yet her partner has not yet arrived. I did not wish to abandon her while she waited.”
Odette turned to Miss Summerfield. “With whom were you meant to be dancing?”
“Mr. Tolmer.” Poor Miss Summerfield was utterly wilting under the attention of the crowd.
“I did hear it whispered that he spilled a glass of claret all down his front,” Odette said. “Utterly ruined his clothing.”
“He left?” Mrs. Summerfield was clearly shocked.
“What choice did he have?” Odette pressed. “Still, he ought to have sent word to you.”
Miss Summerfield eyed the crowd, which was watching her with unmistakable pity.
Odette’s brow pulled in worry. She turned to Jack. “Do stand up with her.” She spoke quietly, but he could see that she had been overheard by those nearest them.
“Then you will be left without a partner.”
She tipped her head, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “No one will wonder that Princess Pompous has been abandoned. But they will whisper about Tabitha. Please do not allow her to suffer.”
Miss Summerfield looked a breath from tears.
Jack held Odette’s gaze for one long moment, hoping she understood both his admiration for her thoughtfulness and his mourning for their lost moments together.
“Miss Summerfield—” He got no further than that.
Terrance arrived on the scene, anxious, focused, determined. Jack had grown suspicious over the past few days that his friend had developed a fondness for Miss Summerfield.
“I saw Mr. Tolmer leave,” Terrance said, watching Miss Summerfield with concern. “I know he was to be your partner for the supper dance.”
“Everyone is whispering.” Her voice broke on the words.
“Please,” Terrance said, “allow me to stand up with you for this set.”
Miss Summerfield’s expression fell. “You have already been my partner once this evening. Two sets will draw attention. People will speculate.”
Terrance almost never wore a serious expression, but he did in that moment. “I have no objections if you don’t.” He turned toward Mrs. Summerfield. “And if you don’t.”