Page 26 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)
T he peach dress Anne had been so excited to wear was starting to make her itchy. She had forgotten the way fabric could rub against skin while dancing, even with her underthings. All she could do was smile through the discomfort and hope she could escape soon.
Mr. Felton Ashby was a decent dancer, she had to give him that. He moved well, made polite conversation. Admittedly, it was nice to be close to a gentleman like this again.
But she also found she couldn’t immerse herself in the moment. This ball was something she had been looking forward to, and she was on the right path to getting what she wanted this summer: carefree flirtation and attention that could be left behind as a frivolous novelty in a few months.
But something kept distracting her during the dance, preventing her from fully falling into it: the strangest sensation of being watched.
As Mr. Ashby led her about the ballroom, Anne glanced around the room. Someone was watching her, of that she was certain. But who? And more importantly, why ?
Perhaps she was worrying too much. The room was crowded. Of course someone somewhere had set their eyes upon her. She was in the line of sight of many people.
But as she thought this, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It felt like a beacon of light had focused on her.
With a swallow, she looked around again. For a flash of a moment, she spotted Vivian and Dantes laughing together about something. She knew the couple well enough to guess Vivian had probably made a wry jest.
Then there was Mary talking with other young ladies as Miss Stewart and mamas hovered safely nearby.
Anne knew the other young ladies were all out and Mary looked quite comfortable conversing with them all.
Briefly, Anne felt a sense of pride that easing Mary into adulthood instead of throwing her into it seemed to be working out well.
Anne continued looking around. Ollie and Evelyn could not be found, and Victor was absent as well, though that wasn’t surprising.
It would have surprised her more is if he had still been in attendance.
It would take more than one ball to reacquaint him with the aristocracy.
He would have only stayed long enough to show his face, shake a few hands, and then leave.
Anne frowned.
“Is something wrong, Lady Litchfield?” Mr. Ashby asked, his gaze following hers as she watched Mary once more.
Anne startled, nearly forgetting what she was doing in the moment. She forced a pleasant smile and put her full attention on her dance partner. “Forgive me. It has been many years since I have danced and I am taking in the glamor of it all.”
Mr. Ashby slid his hand down her back—a bit premature and daring, she thought. But what did she know? She’d been married off as soon as she’d been of age. Maybe this was normal for older people, who could get away with more.
And it wasn’t as if he moved his hand all the way down.
Yes, this was probably normal. Probably.
Mr. Ashby made a comment about how well she danced, but after a quick thanks, Anne was already ignoring him again. That hair-raising feeling had returned.
Who in the blazes was watching her?
As their dancing led them past the musicians again, Anne could see the other side of the room out of the corner of her eye and felt a pull in that direction.
She nearly jumped as she remembered the balcony that looked out above the ballroom. It was easy to overlook if you didn’t know it existed.
Her heart pounded hard and once Mr. Ashby had spun her in the right direction, she looked over his shoulder and up to the balcony.
A dark figure, completely concealed by shadow from mid-shin up, was standing there.
All she could see were black trousers such as one would wear with a tuxedo, but it was also entirely possible they were part of a servant’s uniform as well.
Could it be one of Vivian’s servants watching in case of trouble?
It was plausible, yet somehow, she knew that wasn’t the case.
All she was confident of was that they were watching her right this moment.
As she continued being led around the room, she turned her head to keep her eyes on the balcony, swallowing at the sensation the man knew she watched him back.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t retreat. Didn’t hide.
It felt as if he, whoever he was, was daring her. But to do what?
“I was wondering,” Mr. Ashby said and Anne whipped her head back around, realizing she had been staring at the balcony far too long.
She thought she had been caught. How humiliating that would have been! She knew better. Her attention should be on the one and only gentleman who’d asked her to dance tonight, not some shadowy, mysterious man.
“Yes?” Anne asked. Mr. Ashby wasn’t looking at her, or at the balcony. She looked to see what held his attention and realized he was watching the gaggle of young ladies Mary was with.
“How do your children feel about the absence of a father?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” Anne said with a bit of a head shake. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Was he asking if they missed their father?
Of course they did.
Then again, it wasn’t something they often talked about.
Anne had always assumed her children didn’t think much about Bernard anymore.
They had been sheltered from him for most of their lives, but when he had passed they’d been old enough to realize something had been amiss in his behavior.
It had been a subject she had been too afraid to bring up.
The children knew Anne and Bernard’s marriage had been rocky, and unfortunately, there had only been so much of their horrid marriage she could hide from them, especially as they’d gotten older.
She couldn’t hide his absences or his lack of affection for her.
She couldn’t hide the gossip over their separation, informal as it may have been.
And they had seen through their uncles and aunts what a happy, loving marriage looked like.
After the funeral, they’d never mentioned Bernard, never asked about him.
And she had always been too afraid to ask why .
For so long, she’d assumed it had been because Bernard had been separated from Anne and essentially banned from seeing the children by the Duke of Chalworth.
He had hardly been present in their lives.
But what if there was more to it? That one single time Bernard had laid a hand on Freddy, Freddy hadn’t wanted to talk about when she’d tried to bring it up to him.
Could it have affected him more than he’d made it seem?
“What I mean is,” Mr. Ashby said, interrupting her thoughts, “do they miss having a father figure in their life?”
Anne’s eyes became huge and a sick feeling coursed through her. Suddenly, she wished to shove his hands off of her. She was absolutely not looking for anything beyond silly flirtations! “Excuse me, Mr. Ashby, but what kind of question is that? How dare you?” She hissed those last words out.
Mr. Ashby stammered, as if thrown off by her reaction. But, surely, he couldn’t have been that surprised! What an audacious question!
“I-I apologize, Lady Litchfield.” The song ended and they stopped moving. People began leaving the dance floor, and Mr. Ashby bowed. “I did not mean to offend you with my question. Perhaps it was a bit too forward.”
Anne didn’t have time for this nonsense. But she couldn’t help but glance past Mr. Ashby again to look up at the balcony.
The mysterious figure still stood there. It should have disturbed her, yet she felt a strange exhilaration from it. She forced her attention back to her dance partner.
“It was too forward, and far too soon,” Anne said. “Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Ashby.” She curtsied and fled before he could say anything else to her. Shaken by his questioning, she rushed off to the safety of the crowd and took another glass of champagne, her hands trembling.
As she sipped, she watched the shadowy figure above through narrowed eyes. Was this man a friend? Or a foe? She was already over male nonsense and wondered what this man’s intention was with his incessant staring.
Without finishing her glass, she discarded it and tracked down her daughter. “I’m feeling quite tired, darling. I think I shall head to bed for the evening,” she said, hoping her face looked tired.
“Really?” Mary asked with genuine surprise. “But it’s only been a few hours!”
“I know. Your aunts and uncles, and Miss Stewart, will have their eye on you, though, so behave yourself.”
“Of course, Mama.” Mary gave her a hug. “Thank you for letting me stay. Goodnight.”
Anne kissed her daughter on the cheek and then left the ballroom without another glance. She hurried up the marble staircase, her peach dress swishing with the movement. Anticipation and a bit of fear—the good, girlish kind—pumped through her.
Her heart roared in her ears as she made her way to the hallway that led to the balcony. Her breathing quickened with each step. But as she got to the balcony, she came to a halt.
No one was there.
Anne let out a huff of air. Had she been seeing things? It was quite shadowy up here. Perhaps she had only seen that.
Immediately, she cast that thought aside. No, she had most definitely seen a man up here.
But perhaps she had been wrong about what he’d been doing, and he’d been watching someone else.
Perhaps, he was currently with that woman now. It would make the most sense.
She swallowed back the silly jealousy she felt. All she’d seen had been the shadow of a man, a man whose face and body may as well have been invisible. He could have been anyone. Jealousy had no place in this. In fact, she would likely never uncover who he’d been.