Anne studied her for a moment, then tilted her head.
"And yet, you do not look displeased this morning."
"I am not."
"That is good, at least."
"I should hope so," Eleanor said lightly. "It would be a very short stay otherwise."
Anne did not immediately respond. Her attention shifted briefly across the room, then returned.
"You have already made an impression," she said. "It was not only myself that noticed your absence. There were also many people that spoke of your dance."
"That is alarming," Eleanor sighed, remembering the way Lord Harrowby had held her even though she did not want to. "I shall endeavor to be less remarkable."
"That would be a mistake."
Eleanor smiled faintly, though her gaze followed Anne’s without intending to. Lord Harrowby stood near the far end of the room, engaged in conversation with one of the older gentlemen. His posture was as composed as ever, his attention seemingly fixed upon the discussion, though there was little in his expression to suggest any real engagement with it.
He had not seen her, or if he had, he had chosen not to acknowledge it.
"That man that you danced with is Lord Harrowby," Anne said quietly, though it was unnecessary.
"I am aware."
"Do you know one another?"
"We have met," Eleanor replied.
Anne glanced at her, a flicker of interest passing through her expression.
"And?"
"And nothing," Eleanor said, too quickly to be entirely convincing. "He remains precisely as I remembered him."
"That is not particularly helpful."
"It is sufficient. It will be, at least."
Anne did not press her further. Before Eleanor could redirect the conversation, however, a subtle shift moved through the room.
Eleanor followed it without thinking, as did Anne.
Lady Rosamund Stratton did not require introduction. There was something in the way she carried herself that ensured she would be observed regardless of circumstance. Her manner was composed, her expression calm, though there was a judgment to it.
She did not hesitate as she crossed the room. Her attention was fixed, and Lord Harrowby noticed her before she reached him. The change in him was slight, but unmistakable. His conversation ended with efficient brevity, his posture remaining unchanged even as his focus shifted fully to her approach.
"Lady Rosamund," he said.
"Lord Harrowby."
There was a familiarity in the way they spoke. Eleanor watched, not with open curiosity, but with the same composed attention she might have given any new arrival. Rosamund curtseyed, a stray auburn ringlet dipping by her large blue eyes.
"I had not expected to find you here so soon," she said.
"I might say the same. Are you well?"
"I am," she answered. "And you?"