Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

A n entire week had passed, and Ciara still could not get the mysterious stranger out of her mind, although she tried her best. That morning, she was in the drawing room, pretending to read. The truth was, she was genuinely trying to focus, but it was all a futile endeavor.

Suddenly, Uncle Brendan bustled into the drawing room, waving an invitation in the air with a broad smile. "Ciara, my dear," he exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm, "I just remembered that we've been invited to Lady Harrington's ball! It is sure to be a splendid affair."

He handed her the invitation which she accepted with little interest. The ornate invitation arrived weeks prior on fine parchment, adorned with delicate script and gilded edges, promising an evening of elegance and opulence. Yet, it didn't beckon to her at all. As she inspected the invitation, a troubled expression appeared on her face. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, hesitating before responding. "Uncle Brendan… would it be all right if I do not attend this one?"

He paused, his jovial demeanor softening as he noticed Ciara's unease. He moved to sit beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Why ever not, my dear?"

Ciara glanced down at her hands, unsure of how to express her thoughts. "I… I am just not accustomed to these social events. They make me nervous. I just don't fit in."

Uncle Brendan shook his head. "The point is not to fit in, my dear. Not at all."

"No?" she asked, amused. "Then, what is the point?"

He thought about it for a moment then he smiled. "The point is to find someone who equally doesn't fit in."

She had to laugh at his awkwardly worded statement although it was rather endearing. She wondered if the mysterious stranger was such a man. She hastily banished the thought. He fit in all too well with his devilish good looks and ease of charm. He was the perfect epitome of the ton, and she… well, she was not. That was all there was to it.

"You will do just fine, my dear," he assured her. "Who knows? You might even enjoy yourself."

Ciara sighed softly, torn between her uncle's encouragement and her own reservations. Ever since she had returned, it was difficult to find her place. She felt as if she didn't belong anywhere. Not here in the ton. Not back in the nunnery. Sometimes, she wondered if she even had a place of her own. As for her uncle, she knew that he meant well and only wanted her to experience the world beyond their quiet home.

She sighed heavily, deciding that she would listen to him. Maybe he will be there as well, a treacherous little voice reminded her. She pretended not to hear it although she knew perfectly well who he was.

"I suppose you are right, Uncle," she finally conceded, offering him a faint smile. "Very well. We shall go."

Uncle Brendan beamed with delight, patting her hand affectionately. "That's the spirit, my dear! You will see it will be a night to remember."

Ciara didn't believe that. She already had an evening to remember, and she doubted that it could be better than that. The rest of their conversation, as well as their day, passed by uneventfully, and the evening of the ball arrived sooner than Ciara would have wanted it to.

She was in the carriage with her uncle, who had already complimented her gown that evening. She wanted to be beautiful… just in case. Her gown for Lady Harrington's ball was a breathtaking ensemble that captured the essence of elegance and sophistication. The gown, a vision in green, cascaded in soft folds of emerald silk, shimmering under the ballroom's candlelit chandeliers. The fabric hugged her slender form before flaring out delicately at the hips, creating a silhouette that was both graceful and alluring.

"It will be fine," Uncle Brendan squeezed her hand in a conspiratorial manner, assuring her that he would always be by her side, no matter what. "Trust me."

"I do," she smiled back, feeling slightly more at ease after his words.

As Ciara and her uncle arrived at Lady Harrington's ball, they were greeted by a scene of enchanting splendor. Servants in impeccable livery stood at attention, ready to assist the arriving guests. They ushered them inside where the grandeur of the ballroom unfolded before them. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of fresh flowers and the soft notes of classical music drifting from a talented orchestra positioned at one end of the room.

At one end of the ballroom, Lady Harrington herself greeted guests with warmth and grace, her presence commanding attention as she exchanged pleasantries and ensured everyone felt welcome. She noticed Ciara and her uncle, excused herself, and headed straight for them.

"Ah, the Earl of Hopwich," Lady Harrington said in a warm greeting. "And Miss Everton, my dear. It is so lovely to see you both here."

"The pleasure is all ours, Lady Harrington," Uncle Brendan smiled, bowing down before their host and kissing her hand reverently.

"Yes, thank you," Ciara said sweetly. "Your home is… magical."

Lady Harrington was touched by that compliment. "Why, thank you, my dear. So sweet of you to say so. I hope you both will have a splendid evening."

"I am certain we shall," Ciara's uncle assured her, and then, Lady Harrington excused herself once again.

"The work of a host is never done, I am afraid," she chuckled gently, as she turned away from them and greeted another family who had just arrived.

"I see a dear friend of mine over there, Ciara," Uncle Brendan gestured at the other end of the ballroom. "Would you care to join me?"

"I also see Adeline, Uncle," Ciara was relieved. "And she is with Penelope. May I go and say hello?"

"Of course, my dear," Uncle Brendan said as he gently caressed her cheek. "Balls are always much more fun with friends around. If you do need me, I shall be just over there." He pointed at a table where several older men had already gathered, commencing a heated discussion that everyone seemed to enjoy.

"All right, Uncle," she smiled, kissing him on the cheek, then rushing over to Adeline to embrace her.

"Penelope!" Ciara exclaimed as she greeted her other friend as well, proceeding to curtsy before James Chapman, the Duke of Huntington, and also Penelope's husband, the two people who were responsible for saving her from that dreadful nunnery. Just being there and being free, she had them to thank for that.

"Ciara!" Penelope gushed, embracing her back. "How have you been?"

"Well, good," Ciara said with a smile, hoping that she didn't betray herself in any manner. She didn't want her friends to worry about her. "But do tell me about yourself. You look absolutely stunning."

"Married life suits her, wouldn't you say so?" James teased his wife, and Penelope chuckled, turning to kiss him on the cheek.

"He is the worst, but I love him," Penelope gushed. "You also look breathtaking, Ciara."

"Thank you," Ciara blushed at their compliments, feeling comfortable surrounded by her closest friends. "I must admit, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed earlier, but seeing you here has lifted my spirits."

"You know that we are here for you, dear," Adeline squeezed her friend's hand affectionately.

"I know." Ciara smiled. She wanted to confess to them that she had little desire to attend at all, but now, she felt she had made the right choice. However, just as she was basking in the warmth of her friends' company, a shadow was cast over their joyous reunion.

"Oh, I didn't think nuns were allowed to attend balls." Miss Sarah Danforth appeared, making a directly mean comment. "And in such a choice of attire. My, my, my. How utterly inappropriate."

The two same ladies accompanied her this time as well, and they immediately chuckled at her mean words. Ciara felt a knot tighten in her stomach, the familiar sting of Sarah's unkind words threatening to dampen the newfound courage she had gathered from her friends. Adeline, Penelope, and James exchanged uneasy glances, sensing Ciara's discomfort at Sarah's blatant rudeness.

Ciara could see that Adeline was ready to defend her friend, as she did before, but Ciara knew that she could not allow others to fight her own battles. She gently grabbed Adeline by the elbow, preventing her from speaking.

"I will have you know that I was never a nun but was an oblate," Ciara explained. "Not that I expect someone of such limited knowledge to know the difference."

Ciara could not believe that she had actually said that. But one look in Adeline's direction assured her she was on the right path, so she continued with equal boldness, "Your opinions are your own, Miss Danforth, but they hold no weight here. Kindness costs nothing, and I will not tolerate your rudeness any longer. You may turn around and leave us now."

Sarah's face flushed with indignation, but she seemed momentarily at a loss for words. With a haughty sniff, she turned on her heel and walked away, followed by her friends, leaving Ciara and her friends in relieved silence.

"Well done, Ciara," Adeline could not even wait for them to leave to express her delight. "Standing up for yourself always takes courage, and you handled that marvelously!"

"I must say, you really did," James nodded.

"I am so proud of you, Ciara," Penelope gushed, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"I know you were afraid of how you would fit back in," Adeline pointed out. "And you can see now that each day will get better, especially when you don't let people like her harm you in any manner."

Ciara felt a rush of gratitude for her friends' unwavering support. She smiled gratefully at Penelope and Adeline, feeling a newfound sense of strength and resilience. "Thank you, both of you," she said sincerely. "I could not have done it without you."

As the first strains of the orchestra's melody filled the air, signaling the beginning of the grand dance, the ballroom seemed to come alive with anticipation and elegance.

James, ever the gentleman, extended his arm to Penelope with a charming smile. "Shall we, my dear?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

Penelope accepted his offer with a graceful nod, her smile bright and infectious. She glanced back at Ciara and Adeline with an encouraging wink before following James onto the dance floor where they seamlessly joined the other couples gliding in time to the music.

Meanwhile, Adeline, with an air of quiet curiosity, surveyed the room for potential suitors. Her gaze swept over the gathered guests, assessing each gentleman with a discerning eye. She toyed with a strand of her hair, a subtle gesture of nervous anticipation mingled with hope. Ciara almost chuckled at the words her friend had told her that she didn't really care about suitors. It was obvious that curiosity won over.

Ciara, on the other hand, felt a wave of anxiety wash over her as she watched Adeline's search unfold. The idea of being the center of attention, even just for a dance, made her stomach churn with nervousness. She cast a longing glance toward a quiet corner of the ballroom where the shadows offered a temporary refuge from the glittering crowd.

Adeline moved away, called by another friend of hers, when suddenly, Ciara heard a familiar voice from somewhere behind her.

"There you are, siren."