nothing compared to tonight's. Ladies actually turned their back on her, their lords raising quizzing glasses, brows arched beneath sausage-roll wigs. She felt like a condemned felon. And though she tried hard not to let their actions hurt her, standing there waiting to be announced was one of the hardest things she'd had to do in a long time. Things were made worse in that Phoebe shared in her humiliation. Poor, innocent Phoebe, who's face had paled, two bright spots of color burning near her ears. Her small hands were clenched in the folds of her gown, the sapphire necklace she wore sparkling nearly as brightly as her eyes.
"They should all be shot," she murmured furiously.
And instantly Ariel felt her humiliation fade. How could it not when she had such a champion by her side?
She reached for her cousin's hand, squeezed it, blue eyes meeting gold in a moment of commiseration. Though they were two years apart, Phoebe felt closer to her in age at the moment than ever before. Odd that Phoebe was younger and yet still considered to be Ariel's chaperone because of her marriage.
"You are the best of cousins, Phoebe."
"I am your only cousin."
"And a better one I could not ask for."
Blue eyes instantly softened, filled with sympathy. "If they knew you as I do, Ariel, they would not look at you thus."
No need to ask who they were, and best to look away from Phoebe before she did something embarrassing, like cry. She turned. And froze.
There he stood.
By the entrance to the ballroom he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. Lords and ladies eyed him, some in curiosity, for his scar was noticeable inside the ballroom. Others eyed him no doubt because of who he was, or more specifically, who he would one day be. She eyed him back, feeling pinned in his stare, like one of Reggie's butterfly experiments. For a moment she felt just as immobile, too. The line advanced. People still snickered and stared, but she just stood there.
"Ariel, move forward."
It was Phoebe's voice reaching her as if from a distance. Ariel blinked, forced herself to look away, turning to her cousin to smile—and she had no idea where she pulled that smile from—and to do as asked. What was it about the man that tugged at her so? Was it that she felt sorry for him? Or was it something more?
"Forgive me, Phoebe. Seeing Mr. Trevain there startled me."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "He is here?" she asked in a low voice.
"Aye. By the entrance to the ballroom." They both looked in that direction, Ariel stiffening when she realized he was no longer there. Instead he was making his way toward them. And as she watched him advance, Ariel was reminded of a panther. Once again that inner voice spoke. It fairly screamed danger. Heat fired through her body so instantly her heart pounded in her ears. She felt flushed of a sudden, and frightened.
"Lady Ariel D'Archer ," he said, when he gained their side.
The couple in front of them turned, the gentleman eyeing Mr. Trevain up and down. When he got to the face, Ariel watched as his expression turned to one of revulsion before he quickly turned away. The sight angered her, for Mr. Trevain's face was not at all unpleasant. Certainly it was not perfect, but nobody was perfect.
Ah, but society adores perfection. ‘ Tis why you are banned, Ariel, for you are not perfect anymore. They think your innocence has been taken, even though it has not.
She clenched her hands, staring at the man before her in sudden sympathy. Mr. Trevain either hadn't seen the look or else he ignored it. Either way Ariel was still miffed. "Mr. Trevain ," she said, trying to distract him in the event he had seen the look. "May I present my cousin, Lady Sarrington ?
Nathan bowed. Ariel felt further troubled by the look upon her cousin's face. Though she'd warned her friend, she'd hoped Phoebe would be better able to conceal her absorption with the defect.
"Lady Sarrington ," he said, bowing, and though he hadn't been raised in British society,
"They should all be shot," she murmured furiously.
And instantly Ariel felt her humiliation fade. How could it not when she had such a champion by her side?
She reached for her cousin's hand, squeezed it, blue eyes meeting gold in a moment of commiseration. Though they were two years apart, Phoebe felt closer to her in age at the moment than ever before. Odd that Phoebe was younger and yet still considered to be Ariel's chaperone because of her marriage.
"You are the best of cousins, Phoebe."
"I am your only cousin."
"And a better one I could not ask for."
Blue eyes instantly softened, filled with sympathy. "If they knew you as I do, Ariel, they would not look at you thus."
No need to ask who they were, and best to look away from Phoebe before she did something embarrassing, like cry. She turned. And froze.
There he stood.
By the entrance to the ballroom he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. Lords and ladies eyed him, some in curiosity, for his scar was noticeable inside the ballroom. Others eyed him no doubt because of who he was, or more specifically, who he would one day be. She eyed him back, feeling pinned in his stare, like one of Reggie's butterfly experiments. For a moment she felt just as immobile, too. The line advanced. People still snickered and stared, but she just stood there.
"Ariel, move forward."
It was Phoebe's voice reaching her as if from a distance. Ariel blinked, forced herself to look away, turning to her cousin to smile—and she had no idea where she pulled that smile from—and to do as asked. What was it about the man that tugged at her so? Was it that she felt sorry for him? Or was it something more?
"Forgive me, Phoebe. Seeing Mr. Trevain there startled me."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "He is here?" she asked in a low voice.
"Aye. By the entrance to the ballroom." They both looked in that direction, Ariel stiffening when she realized he was no longer there. Instead he was making his way toward them. And as she watched him advance, Ariel was reminded of a panther. Once again that inner voice spoke. It fairly screamed danger. Heat fired through her body so instantly her heart pounded in her ears. She felt flushed of a sudden, and frightened.
"Lady Ariel D'Archer ," he said, when he gained their side.
The couple in front of them turned, the gentleman eyeing Mr. Trevain up and down. When he got to the face, Ariel watched as his expression turned to one of revulsion before he quickly turned away. The sight angered her, for Mr. Trevain's face was not at all unpleasant. Certainly it was not perfect, but nobody was perfect.
Ah, but society adores perfection. ‘ Tis why you are banned, Ariel, for you are not perfect anymore. They think your innocence has been taken, even though it has not.
She clenched her hands, staring at the man before her in sudden sympathy. Mr. Trevain either hadn't seen the look or else he ignored it. Either way Ariel was still miffed. "Mr. Trevain ," she said, trying to distract him in the event he had seen the look. "May I present my cousin, Lady Sarrington ?
Nathan bowed. Ariel felt further troubled by the look upon her cousin's face. Though she'd warned her friend, she'd hoped Phoebe would be better able to conceal her absorption with the defect.
"Lady Sarrington ," he said, bowing, and though he hadn't been raised in British society,
Similar Books
