Chapter 8 Kitty #3
“Such tantalizing gossip. But I have something far more exciting to share. Did you see Miss Louisa Everly?” One of the women leaned closer to her companion, her voice dropping to a gleeful stage whisper.
“Oh yes. She dared to attend tonight in an attempt at securing a match, and the scandal about her younger sister alone in the coach with—well, just watch.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught the conspiratorial shift in their postures, the way they huddled closer as if sealing a pact of whispered judgments.
My stomach churned, a mixture of unease and indignation as I followed the women’s gazes to the ballroom doors, where a slender form, Miss Everly, stood beside a man, scanning the crowd.
She caught sight of the hostess, Lord Chudley’s sister, and a flicker of hope crossed her face.
But when their eyes met, Lady Anne gave a deliberate pause before turning her back on Miss Everly entirely. One by one, the others nearby followed suit, turning away or averting their eyes as Miss Everly’s shoulders fell and her face paled.
I had witnessed my first cut direct.
Could the ton be this ruthless to refuse a woman entrance because of a family member’s behavior?
I clutched the lemonade glasses in my shaking hands. First Edward’s name besmirched, then my family’s name. What had I been thinking to allow Lord Chudley a second dance? My willful spirit had gotten the best of me. I hurried to Aunt’s side, finding safety in familiarity.
Yet the women’s words struck deeper than they should have, latching on to the tightly coiled fears I’d worked so hard to bury. I didn’t fit their mold, and I never would. Not as Grandfather’s polished English rose, nor as the half-Indian heiress they whispered about behind their fans.
But oh, how exhausting it was to be reminded, over and over, that I was different. That no matter how carefully I dressed, how flawlessly I danced, or how brightly I smiled, I would never truly belong in their world.
I barely tasted the sour tang of lemonade as it slid down my throat. Beside me, Aunt drained her glass in hurried gulps, as if she’d been the one twirling.
She suddenly stiffened, her eyes lighting on a figure just beyond the arched hallway. “There’s Edward!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and impatience.
I followed her gaze and saw Edward adjusting his cravat, his expression thunderous. Standing beside him was Mr. Sinclair, his sharp profile unmistakable even from a distance.
I stepped closer to Aunt, setting my empty glass aside. “Perhaps we should join them,” I suggested softly, more to cover my unease than anything else.
Aunt nodded briskly. “Yes, yes, of course. Let’s see what Edward is about.” She linked her arm through mine and we set off.
Edward appeared chagrined as Mr. Sinclair spoke with him. I wondered if my brother had been at the faro tables, gambling yet again—just as the gossiping hens had whispered. Had Mr. Sinclair intervened?
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to flee the ball.
“Aunt will never let me forget this night,” I muttered as Edward and Mr. Sinclair caught sight of us approaching.
“I want to go home,” Aunt insisted, her voice strained as she clutched Edward’s arm. “Kitty danced with Lord Chudley twice. Twice! I do believe I shall swoon.” As if to iterate her threat, she swayed.
Edward arched a dark eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and concern as he took her arm. I dared not look at Mr. Sinclair to gauge his reaction at my family’s antics.
I had wanted to repel him, but this . . . La, how this chafed.
Lowering my voice, I leaned toward Edward. “What is your crime of the evening?” I asked. “Surely Aunt’s ire isn’t reserved for me alone.”
He rolled his eyes, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t ask. But we shall depart immediately and avoid any lectures.”
“You were at the faro table, weren’t you?” I pressed, ignoring the growing whispers from the couples around us. Feathered fans fluttered as stares darted toward my family.
Never tell them your true name. Grandfather’s old warning reverberated through my thoughts, a heavy reminder of the precarious place we held here.
For once, I completely understood his warnings and his desire to keep me secluded from the rest of the world. I had stepped into a battlefield where the smallest mistake could render a woman with no future or prospects.
As I watched Miss Everly shrink into the shadows, cut off from the world of privilege she’d once belonged to, an uneasy chill ran through me.
I glanced at Aunt, still obliviously fretting, and then at Edward, tension flickering across his face as he guided us to the main entrance. Mr. Sinclair caught my gaze, his expression guarded yet attentive. Had he seen the cut direct as well? Had he heard any of the gossip regarding my family?
He held out his arm for me to take. “I’ve ordered the carriage.”
I nodded and accepted his kindness, my throat tight as we headed for the exit. Formerly intoxicating, the gilded ballroom suddenly felt like a stage set to scrutinize every step, every smile, every breath. An elaborate trap set to catch any mistake and amplify it for all to see.
I must never again forget my purpose. Especially when dancing.