Mrs. Carlisle batted her fan. “If there is a safer pair of hands, I have yet to hear of it.”
“You are all so quick to defend him,” said Mrs. Windsor, finally daring to meet Nora’s gaze. “Yet what defense can you give for his withholding payment to my husband? There is money owed—”
“Madam, do you truly believe that one of the most generous gentlemen in the city is stealing from you?” asked Mr. Haskett with all the incredulity that such a question warranted. “I doubt there is a charitable institute in London that hasn’t benefited from his kindness. Yet you believe he is stingy with a few thousand pounds? That is ridiculous!”
Mrs. Windsor clutched her glass. “I only know what my husband said, and I trust his opinion far more than anyone here.”
“Many a man has blamed others for his losses,” said Mr. Haskett with a vague wave of his hand, and Mr. Pembroke’s gaze darted away from Mrs. Windsor as he covered his smirk with a drink.
“I am sorry you find my father’s business so unsatisfactory,” said Nora with a strained tone. “But I would remind you that investing is called speculation for a reason. It is always a gamble. I do not know what you wish me to do about it, madam.”
Glancing about the group, Nora turned away. “Now, if you will forgive me, I have a novel that cannot be put off any longer.”
“Come now, Miss Eden,” said Mr. Pembroke, motioning to the festivities. “Do not escape so soon—”
But Nora was quite happy to stride away. The crowd parted before her with little resistance, the flow of the room shifting just enough to accommodate her passage as she moved along the edge of the floor. Laughter rose and fell behind her, the music pressing onward without pause, yet it all receded as she fixed her attention ahead, seeking a quiet corner in which to hide.
Chapter 5
Beneath a series of tall mirrors sat a cluster of gilded chairs arranged beside a low table, their pale upholstery softened beneath the glow of the chandelier. A screen, artfully placed and draped with greenery, offered a suggestion of privacy without truly removing its occupants from view. It was the sort of space meant for quiet conversation, for those who wished to withdraw without entirely departing.
Nora made for it at once, her steps measured but unrelenting, her gaze fixed upon the empty chair nearest the edge. Her fingers slipped into her reticule, closing around the slim volume within, and Nora drew out the yellowback whose pages were softened from use. The promise of stillness lay just within reach—
Mama appeared before her, halting Nora in place.
“Please do not hide away.” Though she did not prostrate herself, Mama’s tone was filled with pleading, and Nora let out a soft breath, the corner of her mouth lifting as she glanced down at the yellowback.
“My dear Mama, it would be far more remarkable if I did not. I should hate to shock the room by dancing and socializing all evening long.”
Mama’s hand tightened upon her fan. “Mr. Langford is a very good man, Nora. If you simply encouraged him a little—”
“You are wasting your time on me,” said Nora, lifting her book for her to see. “I have given the evening enough of my time and have no desire to spend the rest of it cavorting about.”
“But you cannot spend the entire Season hiding behind a book.”
“If I apply myself and practice regularly, I am certain I shall be quite capable of it,” said Nora, not hiding her smile. Then nodding toward her sister, she added, “Focus your attention on Gretchen, Mama. She is eager to catch a suitor’s eye, and I am quite content to avoid them.”
Nora’s attention drifted past her mother once more, settling upon her sister, who moved through the dance with bright precision, her laughter carrying faintly above the music as she turned with her partner. The gentleman at her side bore himself with an ease that spoke of confidence, his regard clear in the way he watched her, attentive and unguarded.
The room pressed in from every side, all brightness and motion and expectation, and Nora felt each laugh and voice keenly. The Dunnings’ ball had only just reached its height, and already the hours stretched before her with a quiet, unrelenting weight. This was but the beginning. The first of many. Calls, dinners, assemblies, each one flowing into the next until the weeks blurred together in a steady procession.
Thirty was not a remarkable age. Not truly. Yet as she completed another year, Nora found herself more aware of the bright eagerness of the younger ladies, with their unguarded laughter and their bubbling anticipation as they entered the room convinced that the evening would bring something new and transformative.
Nora had once felt that way. Now, she knew too well how the season unfolded. The repetition. The careful dance ofexpectation and disappointment that played out again and again beneath the glitter of chandeliers. The night stretched on, and she found herself wishing it over already.
Gaze lowering to the yellowback in her hands, Nora held firm to the familiar weight and the adventures held within.
“Yes,” she said, almost to herself, though the words were spoken aloud all the same. “I believe matters are arranged quite as they ought to be.”
Mama’s expression fell, but with a small, resigned motion, she pressed a brief kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “Very well.”
Nora inclined her head in answer, the exchange settling between them without further comment as Mama turned away, her attention already shifting to the daughter more inclined to receive it.
Left alone at last, Nora took the final steps to her chair, the gilt frame cool beneath her hand as she lowered herself into it; despite being far too firm for a proper coze, it suited her needs well enough. The yellowback opened, the spine yielding without protest as she found her place and fixed her gaze upon the page. The murmur of the ballroom remained, the music carrying on, laughter rising and falling as before, but the familiar lines drew her in, offering something far more entertaining than anything the evening had yet provided.
The music shifted, starting and stopping with each new dance, and at times, others came to sit in the unoccupied seats, though none of them bothered to intrude as Nora lost herself in Adèle’s trials and tribulations that unfolded on the page—
A throat cleared.