Blue. The gown’s neckline was modest, but it was enough to make a statement. She was trying her hardest to remember all of the lessons that Stephen had taught her, as if she feared disappointing him in some way.
There was a festive spirit in the air. The ballroom had been decorated with green garlands and red ribbons. In the corner, there was a large Christmas tree.
Maria could get herself used to the festive spirit, as it was one of her favorite times of the year.
She touched the sides of her gown again, fixing what needed not to be fixed. But then she chided herself internally. If she were to project confidence, then she should not be picking at her clothes so frequently.
Blue,she reminded herself. It was the color that Stephen had asked her to wear, and it was fast growing on her.
“Miss Havenford,” a voice called out to her. Owen Rondell, introduced that morning, bowed.
“Mr. Rondell,” Maria said, arranging politeness on her posture, “Good evening.”
“Better now,” he said, smirking just slightly.
She tucked one curl behind her ear; it fell forward. She was once again reminded of Stephen.
Oh, this is not the time to be thinking of him. You must focus on the gentleman in front of you.
“I am glad to hear that,” she said. She then reminded her that she mustkeep her gaze softand tried to smile. Owen was simply looking at her, and she realized that he was indeed waiting for her to say something more. She raked her brain for something interesting to say, as Stephen had instructed, but fell horribly short.
“What is your favorite book, Mr. Rondell?” she settled on finally.
“Whichever is new,” he replied promptly. “Tomorrow’s is likely to beinfinitein its pleasures. Do you read novels, Miss Havenford?”
“I read people,” she said gently. “Poorly, but I am improving.”
“An answer with teeth. And if you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would you go,and what would you hope not to find there?”
She did not blink. He seemed to be mirroring her in his questioning. Surely, that was a good sign in itself.
“To the sea. I should hope to find no one trying to name its colors as if that would keep it obedient.”
“Ah,” he said softly, intrigued. “You are dangerous.”
“No,” she said. “Only learning to be heard. In crowded rooms, I imagine where people think they are instead of where they stand. It makes them less confusing.”
“Then you must tell me where you thinkIam imagining,” he said.
“You are on a balcony,” she said before she could stop herself. “You think other people are looking at the view when they are looking at you.”
“I am very taken with you, Miss Havenford.”
“You are very taken with the balcony,” she murmured, and enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed in play.
She was doing it: she was present and not apologizing for it. Pride moved through her cautiously.
It was working, whatever Stephen had taught her. It really was.
Across the room, the Duke of Verwood stood with Peter Morton and pretended to take an interest in the arrangement of chairs. He had claimed he was not wicked; the devil had the grace to keep quiet when he lied to himself.
But he could only focus his attention on one person tonight.
Maria is in blue.
She had listened. It felt delightfully fun to have that as a confirmation. He had not known the lady for too long, and nor did he know how to fully define her yet. But there was something about her that seemed to interest him greatly.
Perhaps it was the honest manner in which she carried herself. He had met a great deal of ladies in his lifetime, but none had captured his attention as she had.