All heads turned as Lord Seymour stepped forward, his arm offered to the blushing Miss Cressida Fallowmere, who approached with quiet poise.
“They are officially engaged,” Lady Elsmere declared.
Applause followed, a ripple of sound rolling across the lawn.
Miss Cressida Fallowmere gave a small, self-conscious smile, fingers lightly brushing the new ring on her gloved hand. Lord Seymour, tall and beaming, looked at her as if no one else existed. Then he took her hand and kissed it reverently.
Ladies clapped behind their fans. A few murmurs of shock slipped through the crowd like wind through grass.
Elizabeth stood only a few feet away, struck silent. The sound of clapping felt distant. She could barely tear her gaze from the couple beneath the arch.
Miss Cressida Fallowmere—quiet, gentle, overlooked Cressida—had been proposed to by one of the handsomest young lords of the Season. It was like watching a fairytale unfold in real time, and Elizabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to weep or smile.
Then, sharp fingernails dug into her elbow.
She didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Lady Grisham’s breath was hot and bitter near her ear. “Do you see?” she hissed. “Do you understand what just happened?”
Elizabeth turned, but the look in her stepmother’s eyes made her flinch.
“Even plain Miss Fallowmere,” Lady Grisham went on, her voice low and slicing, “managed to ensnare a young, handsome lord. What about you?”
She paused, as if weighing her next words, before continuing in a voice sharpened by disdain, “You’ve been idling about, not making the slightest effort. Your father paraded you around last Season, and now I’m the one bearing the burden of your failure,and you’re not even my blood. All you do is bring shame to me and your sisters.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed, but she said nothing.
Wilhelmina opened her mouth, undoubtedly to protest, but Lady Grisham was quick to silence her with blazing eyes.
“Do not dare defend her,” she warned. “She had too many squandered opportunities. Now, go over there, Elizabeth. Socialize and smile. Be charming. And try to make it less awkward.”
Lady Grisham gave Elizabeth a little shove toward where she and Wilhelmina were socializing earlier. A group of young gentlemen were huddled together, smirking at each other as they idly watched the newly engaged couple smiling at the crowd.
Elizabeth knew that she should be thankful she was not being shoved at some ancient lord. Instead, she was being merely asked to engage in conversation with men about her age. However, she could find no joy in doing so.
Still, she stumbled forward, a roaring in her ears. She heard Wilhelmina protest in her defense only to be silenced again.
“She’s done nothing wrong,” Wilhelmina said sharply, her voice low but fierce.
A pause. Then came Lady Grisham’s voice, brittle and scathing. “Lower your tone.”
“I won’t,” Wilhelmina said, defiant. “You’re embarrassing her.”
“She embarrasses herself,” Lady Grisham hissed. “Always has. A pretty face wasted on nerves and silence. If she can’t even hold a conversation?—”
“She can,” Wilhelmina snapped.
Another pause. Then, in a quieter, more dangerous tone: “You forget yourself, child of mine.”
Left to her own devices, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and made herself approach the group. A few men looked up to her, expressing some mild interest. She straightened herself further, as she got closer.
“D-do forgive the interruption. Uh, good d-day to you all, gentlemen,” she managed.
A few heads turned. One man blinked at her, confused. “Do you stammer, Lady Elizabeth?”
His companion gave a sharp laugh, loud enough to make her flinch. “God help the poor man who tries to get a full sentence out of her.”
Elizabeth braved the scattered chuckles and strode forward, her sights locked on the man who had mocked her speech. If she could just reach him—stand before them and prove she wasn’t afraid—they might see her differently. But her focus was so narrow, she didn’t see the uneven stone hidden in the grass.