right?”
Delphinia nodded. She moved her hand away from the button and her vision quickly returned to normal. The button’s shrill voice ceased, but a pinprick of a headache jabbed behind her right eye the moment the connection to her ‘gift of touch’ was severed. It was the first time she’d experienced pain after using her unusual ability. Clearly, there was much she needed to learn about how to open herself to it this deeply and how to protect herself from it.
But for now, she was more concerned about what the button had just shown her.
“Where did you get those silver buttons?” she whispered as they entered the ballroom where candelabras blazed. The light hurt her eyes and she cast her gaze to the polished floor.
“They’ve been in the family for generations. The ore was mined on my father’s estate. But the vein played out years ago.”
That’s what he thinks. The button had shown Delphinia its ancient home, deep in the earth. And there in the dark and the silence, the mother lode of ore still waited only another few feet beyond where the silver that had formed Tristan’s buttons was unearthed.
It wouldn’t matter that she had no dowry. Once she told Tristan about the silver, the future of Devonwood was secure for some time to come.
He smiled down at her when they had to part at the center of the room so they could each follow the man or woman ahead of them in the procession. Del let herself enjoy one last lingering glance at Tristan. Once Delphinia took her place along the wall on the side of the room where the women lined up, she studiously avoided looking at him.
She’d tell him about the silver later. He was still willing to risk everything for her. She’d promised him that everything would turn out all right. The fact that he didn’t know how everything might turn out all right made what he was planning even more precious.
Besides, she had to rid herself of this headache before it ruined the whole evening. As soon as the promenade music ended, she excused herself and made for the ladies’ retiring room. With any luck, she’d be able to press a cool, wet cloth to her eyes and lie down until it was time to make her way to the second floor parlour.
* * *
Lady Florence smiled with satisfaction. The string quartet her father had engaged for the evening was in rare form. Each dance was set at the perfect tempo, giving the dancers every chance to display their grace to full advantage. The chandeliers had never shown so brightly. The silver at supper had never gleamed with such radiance. Florence was disposed to be pleased with everything. Several of her father’s friends who held important positions at court were present, so rumors had been popping up thicker than pheasant in the fall. Every tongue seemed to be whispering that Lord Edmondstone’s choice would be revealed this evening. He’d never shown a preference for anyone but her, never danced with any other debutant as often as he did with her. If the gossips were correct, she’d be affianced by the end of the ball.
Lady Florence finished her gavotte with Lord Edmondstone, pleased with the way he’d bowed over her fingers during the final strains of the piece. Such decorum and civility surely boded well for a decorous and civil union.
She was about to congratulate herself on pleasing her father with her pending engagement, when Sanders swept her up.
“Time for our minuet,” he announced and led her back onto the dance floor as the stately music started.
The first time they came together, he whispered, “I’m glad your hand wasn’t entirely frozen by the chill of Edmondstone’s ardor.”
“He’s only being polite,” she hissed back. “And reserved.”
“And cold.” When Sanders twirled her in for a close hold, he took advantage of the pose to brush her lips with his. “I would not be.”
A little thrill washed over her. “Sanders, please.”
“You don’t have to beg, my lady. I live to please you.”
She
Delphinia nodded. She moved her hand away from the button and her vision quickly returned to normal. The button’s shrill voice ceased, but a pinprick of a headache jabbed behind her right eye the moment the connection to her ‘gift of touch’ was severed. It was the first time she’d experienced pain after using her unusual ability. Clearly, there was much she needed to learn about how to open herself to it this deeply and how to protect herself from it.
But for now, she was more concerned about what the button had just shown her.
“Where did you get those silver buttons?” she whispered as they entered the ballroom where candelabras blazed. The light hurt her eyes and she cast her gaze to the polished floor.
“They’ve been in the family for generations. The ore was mined on my father’s estate. But the vein played out years ago.”
That’s what he thinks. The button had shown Delphinia its ancient home, deep in the earth. And there in the dark and the silence, the mother lode of ore still waited only another few feet beyond where the silver that had formed Tristan’s buttons was unearthed.
It wouldn’t matter that she had no dowry. Once she told Tristan about the silver, the future of Devonwood was secure for some time to come.
He smiled down at her when they had to part at the center of the room so they could each follow the man or woman ahead of them in the procession. Del let herself enjoy one last lingering glance at Tristan. Once Delphinia took her place along the wall on the side of the room where the women lined up, she studiously avoided looking at him.
She’d tell him about the silver later. He was still willing to risk everything for her. She’d promised him that everything would turn out all right. The fact that he didn’t know how everything might turn out all right made what he was planning even more precious.
Besides, she had to rid herself of this headache before it ruined the whole evening. As soon as the promenade music ended, she excused herself and made for the ladies’ retiring room. With any luck, she’d be able to press a cool, wet cloth to her eyes and lie down until it was time to make her way to the second floor parlour.
* * *
Lady Florence smiled with satisfaction. The string quartet her father had engaged for the evening was in rare form. Each dance was set at the perfect tempo, giving the dancers every chance to display their grace to full advantage. The chandeliers had never shown so brightly. The silver at supper had never gleamed with such radiance. Florence was disposed to be pleased with everything. Several of her father’s friends who held important positions at court were present, so rumors had been popping up thicker than pheasant in the fall. Every tongue seemed to be whispering that Lord Edmondstone’s choice would be revealed this evening. He’d never shown a preference for anyone but her, never danced with any other debutant as often as he did with her. If the gossips were correct, she’d be affianced by the end of the ball.
Lady Florence finished her gavotte with Lord Edmondstone, pleased with the way he’d bowed over her fingers during the final strains of the piece. Such decorum and civility surely boded well for a decorous and civil union.
She was about to congratulate herself on pleasing her father with her pending engagement, when Sanders swept her up.
“Time for our minuet,” he announced and led her back onto the dance floor as the stately music started.
The first time they came together, he whispered, “I’m glad your hand wasn’t entirely frozen by the chill of Edmondstone’s ardor.”
“He’s only being polite,” she hissed back. “And reserved.”
“And cold.” When Sanders twirled her in for a close hold, he took advantage of the pose to brush her lips with his. “I would not be.”
A little thrill washed over her. “Sanders, please.”
“You don’t have to beg, my lady. I live to please you.”
She
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