Chapter Five

People were arriving. Felicity could hear them downstairs. Mrs Langley – Beatrice – was doing the welcoming, so Lucy and she were free to put the finishing touches to their gowns.

Felicity was wearing her new pale green gown, a delightfully smooth silk, decorated with embroidered white flowers, with matching white gloves. she'd bought some feathers to go in her hair and was still considering whether or not to add them. Would it be too much?

Lucy was sitting at her dressing table, tweaking her curls.

"I don't want to be rude, since he's been so kind to you," Felicity began again – they'd talked the subject to death as they got dressed, but she couldn't seem to let it be – "But Lord Lanwood was ever so strange. Really, he was. Perhaps he was upset that I hadn't asked his permission to visit the library."

"That doesn't sound like Arthur," Lucy responded, eyes focused on her hair in the mirror. "He comes off as brusque sometimes, but there's no malice in him. Do you know, they offered me the Dower House all to myself, if I didn't want to continue living with them? Arthur promised to sign it over to me. He said that he didn't like the idea of my living there all alone, no more than he would like his mother living there alone, and so hoped I'd choose to stay. I did, and I haven't regretted it, not for a moment. How many men would be so kind to a woman they didn't even know? I fully expected to be considered a burden."

"Nobody could ever think you were a burden, Lucy," Felicity said fiercely.

Lucy gave a snort. "Oh, you think not? Don't be foolish. Unmarried women are ridiculous, and poor unmarried women are to be pitied. I know my situation."

Felicity bit her lip, twisting a feather between her fingers. "And you are happy here, aren't you?"

Lucy smiled wryly at her through the mirror. "Of course I'm happy. It's not the same as when Papa was alive, but Arthur and Beatrice are good, Felicity. I wish you'd believe me."

"You weren't there," Felicity muttered. "You didn't find yourself standing in the library, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, being lectured on the value of reputation and knocking before entering a room."

"Why on earth would a person knock before entering a library? What would a person be doing in there, besides reading?"

"Best not to think of it. Come on, are you ready? Shall we go down? We'll miss the first dance if you don't hurry."

Lucy laughed, rolling her eyes. She affixed her dance card to her wrist with a skein of ribbon – Felicity's was already on her wrist – and got to her feet.

***

Downstairs, the ballroom and hallway outside was crammed with people. Holding hands, Felicity and Lucy pushed their way through.

She knew most people there, and Lucy seemed to know everyone. For somebody so quiet and almost reserved, Lucy had always struck Felicity as a remarkably sociable person. She seemed to like people and enjoyed their company at large. Everyone's face lit up to see her, and everybody had something to say. It took them close to half an hour to make their way through the hall and into the ballroom.

No sooner had they stepped over the threshold than a lady and gentleman descended on them. Felicity recognized the round-faced, beaming gentleman as on Mr Thomas Elliot, and the short, round-faced lady beside him as his sister.

Introductions were made, and the sister – Miss Susan Elliot – made herself very agreeable. She was wearing a pale pink gown that possibly did not suit her form and skin, but she clearly adored the dress and glowed with pleasure to wear it. Felicity made up her mind to make good friends with the sister.

"I say, Lady Lucy, have you seen Arthur, at all?" Mr Elliot asked hopefully. "I can't imagine he's enjoying this bustling situation."

Lucy coloured a little. "I haven't seen him. Beatrice and I ought to have been more careful when sending out our invitations, but I really thought many people would decline. It's too late now."

"Well, it'll be good for him, I suppose. All other social engagements will seem calm and manageable in comparison. Do excuse us, Miss Thornhill, Lady Lucy."

The two nodded smilingly and moved off. Already, Felicity was starting to shake off her bad humour at Lord Lanwood's snappishness this morning. She so badly wanted to believe he was a decent man, and not rude, since he was now responsible for her dear friend.

If he was a friend of Thomas Elliot, surely, he couldn't be all bad.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned, and saw a gentleman across the room, leaning against the mantelpiece, smiling wolfishly at her. He was remarkably handsome, and his smile widened as he noticed her scrutiny.

"Who's that?" Felicity asked, nudging Lucy. Lucy followed her gaze and pressed her lips together.

"Lord Vincent Griffin. He's a wealthy gentleman, and one can't simply ignore him. I had to invite him, but I never thought he'd accept."

"Why not?"

"Well, we have some card tables, but none of us will be playing high enough for his taste, I warrant. Oh, goodness, he's coming over."

Indeed he was. There was no point in pretending they hadn't seen him. Lucy clearly disapproved of Lord Vincent, but Lucy could be a little judgemental at times. Everybody had their faults. Lord Vincent no doubt had his faults, but Felicity couldn't see one in his face.

"Lady Lucy Langley," he said smoothly. "Do introduce me to your friend."

"Lord Vincent Griffin, this is Miss Felicity Thornhill," Lucy intoned.

Bows and pleasantries were exchanged. The conversation moved smoothly on from there – Lord Vincent had plenty to say, and Felicity had to admit that she did not feel lectured at, at the very least.

"I believe that the dancing is starting soon," he said, after a few moments. "Lady Lucy, I do hope you'll reserve me at least one set, but I assumed that you would be standing up with our dear Lord Lanwood for the first dance? Of course, I know Arthur of old, and he is not fond of dancing. I would not put it past him to dance with his mother, if he must dance at all."

Felicity longed to laugh at this, but Lucy's face was stony and disapproving, so she pressed her gloved fingers over her lips instead. Lord Vincent's bright blue eyes glanced her way, just for a half-second, and his mouth twitched as if he sensed her amusement.

"Lord Lanwood and I are indeed dancing together for the first set," Lucy responded smoothly. "Do excuse me, Felicity."

Without another word, she glided away into the crowd, leaving Felicity behind. It would be undignified to scramble after her friend, so Felicity stayed where she was.

Besides, Lord Vincent seemed like the most entertaining man in the ballroom. A number of very pretty ladies had walked past them, shooting envious glances her way.

"Oh, dear," he remarked with a grin. "I have offended your friend. I am sorry, but Arthur is such a rigid and conservative individual."

"I barely know him, I must confess."

"Really? You're staying in his house."

Felicity hesitated. Lord Lanwood was not likeable, exactly, but it didn't seem fair to tell this near stranger just how neglectful he'd been of his guests.

"Well, you know how busy a brand-new earl must be," she said lightly. "I daresay we'll get to know him more in the future."

"Hm," Lord Vincent said, with a half-smile. "I wonder, Miss Thornhill, if you would do me the honour of standing up with me for the first dance?"

A warm flutter passed through Felicity's chest. It always felt good to be asked to dance, especially by such a handsome, pleasant gentleman. In a room of beauties and heiresses, he'd chosen her to talk to.

"Of course," she said, a little more breathlessly than she'd intended. "I'd be honoured."

"Excellent. May I write my name in your dance card, then shall we get some punch before the first dance?"

She nodded, and he bent over her hand, writing his name on the card. She could smell a strong scent of cologne and hair pomade coming from him. He straightened up, still smiling, and offered her his arm. Felicity took it, hoping against hope that her mother could see her. It wouldn't sound nearly so impressive when she told the story later.

The refreshment table was, naturally, crowded. The musicians were in place, tuning up their instruments, and many young people had already divided into pairs, eager to dance.

Lord Vincent procured the two glasses of punch and found a quiet corner for the two of them to stand. She spotted Lord Lanwood at last, standing grimly at the side of the ballroom, staring at the musicians as if facing down a firing squad. Lucy stood beside him, one hand resting on his arm as if for comfort.

"It's generally thought that Lord Lanwood will marry Lady Lucy," Lord Vincent commented. "It's not as if he needs an heiress, and it would tie up the loose ends nicely."

Felicity glanced up at him. "I shouldn't think so. They're fond of each other, but I believe it's more of a brother-and-sister relationship."

"That means nothing, Miss Thornhill, let me tell you. If Lady Lucy marries, poor Arthur will have a large portion to shell out. If he marries her, the money can be kept. It's just good sense."

Felicity bit her lip. "I don't think Lucy would like that."

Perhaps something in her tone indicated that she was not enjoying this subject, and Lord Vincent smoothly changed the subject.

"Do you see that Miss Elliot is here tonight? Do you know her?"

"Yes, I met her just tonight."

Lord Vincent chuckled. "Did you see the gown she was wearing? The poor girl looked really ugly."

Felicity flinched, glancing up at him in shock. "I… I beg your pardon?"

"So many ruffles are rarely becoming, especially in that particular lady. Now if you were to wear a gown like that, Miss Thornhill, I think you'd look delightful," he continued blithely. "Some ladies do sweat a great deal more, so I daresay at the end of the evening she'll look like a wilted flower in the summer heat."

"Lord Vincent!" Felicity broke out, shocked.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Ladies don't sweat, do they? They perspire. I daresay poor Miss Elliot will be perspiring a great deal by the end of the evening. I wonder that her maid didn't say something when she chose that dress. Oh, and look at what Sir Rufus is wearing. What an awful shade of yellow!"

He talked on for a moment or two, making unkind comments about various persons' looks and clothing choices. Felicity stopped responding, but it seemed that Lord Vincent was too carried away by his own wit.

His cruel words about Miss Elliot had shocked her. Miss Elliot was a plump young woman, but pretty with it, and even if she wasn't, such remarks sat poorly with Felicity, like a heavy, undigested meal in her stomach.

"I must say, I don't envy you," he was saying next, and Felicity forced herself to pay attention. She was still going to have to dance with him, after all.

"Hm?"

"Staying with the Langleys, I mean. Lord Lanwood – Arthur, that is, I don't feel right calling him a lord – is so dreadfully unpleasant. He was never much fun, not even before he got that nasty scar on his face."

"I heard that he got it at war," she heard herself say. "I heard that he was remarkably brave."

Lord Vincent snorted derisively, throwing back the last of his punch. Felicity wondered how many cups of punch he'd already had, not to mention the glasses of champagne.

"He was probably looking the wrong way and just got unlucky," Lord Vincent said, and this time there was a distinctive, unattractive layer of bitterness in his voice. "War heroes are rarely what they say."

"Perhaps not, but I don't think Lord Lanwood's scar is so very bad."

Lord Vincent shot her a sharp look. His expression was fully unpleasant, until he remembered where he was and smoothed it away.

"You're a kind little thing, aren't you? Kind or blind, I'd say. It looks as though you could unbutton his face and look right into his head. Look at the way people stare at him. It's frankly unsightly, to be truthful. If I looked like that, I'd lock myself away from the world and never show my face again."

As he spoke, he tossed back his hair, combing his fingers through it almost unconsciously. A wave of distaste washed over Felicity. She cleared her throat, finishing her punch.

The awkward silence didn't stretch out between them for too long. The musicians started up, and the couples began to take their parts on the dance floor.

Lord Lanwood smiled down at Lucy, holding out his arm, and they took their places at the head of the set. When Felicity glanced over at her partner, she saw blatant dislike on Lord Vincent's face.

It was gone in a moment, of course, and he beamed down at Felicity. The warm, tugging feeling in her chest was entirely gone when he looked at her. This time, when ladies stared enviously at her, she felt like telling them not to worry – that they could swap places with her, if they liked.

Just get through this dance, she thought morosely. That's all. It won't last forever.