Page 61 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

And that was because she did.

“Why are you still out here?” Clara continued. “I thought you’d be inside already.”

Eliza let out a shaky breath. “When Tristan first mentioned this ball, I thought it would be simple. That I could step inside, smile, and own the room. But now —” Her voice broke. “Now I do not know if I can even open the door.”

Clara’s brow pinched. “What are you talking about? This is not your first ball. It is not even your twentieth. Why tonight? What makes this one different?”

Eliza pressed her hand to her waist as if it might calm her.

“At those other parties, I had nothing to fear. They were never about me. I could move through the crowd, and no one cared. Tonight, it is different. Tonight, every glance will fall on me.”

Clara nodded, a wave of understanding crossing her face. “Oh.”

“And Marcus is in there,” Eliza added, almost like an afterthought.

“Ah,” Clara said, her eyes softening. “I forgot your brother has to attend these things.”

Eliza gave a bitter laugh. “I would have prayed for him to stay away. But he is here, and I cannot send him away.”

“Unfortunately,” Clara said with a small smile.

Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but the tall doors pushed open. They both turned and watched Evelyn step out, her eyes searching the hallways. The surprise on her face could cut glass when she laid her eyes on them both.

“Good heavens,” Evelyn said, her voice cutting. “I may be getting old, but is it not tradition for the hostess of a ball to normally be at the ball?”

“She is only dealing with a little nervousness,” Clara said quickly. “I’m attempting to help her through it.”

“What does she have to be nervous about?” Evelyn scoffed. “These are only the local gentry. Nothing to fear here. If it were London, I would understand. Those people would tear you apart for one wrong move.”

Eliza watched Clara give Evelyn a flat look. “Thank you, Lady Howard. Your words, as always, are eternally comforting.”

“It is fine, Aunt Evelyn,” Eliza muttered, even though everything in her voice proved otherwise.

Evelyn ignored them both, lifting her chin. “Do you need me to drag you in by the wrist? Would that help?”

Eliza straightened. “No. I will be fine.”

“Good,” Evelyn said. “And you know what else will be fine? Making your entrance. Preferably before supper. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Eliza said, her voice quiet but firm.

Evelyn leaned in, lowering her tone. “Then hurry. I cannot watch those shameless spinsters hover over your husband for another minute.”

With those words, she opened the doors and spun into the ballroom, and the doors swung close behind her.

Clara gave a low whistle. “Is she not a wonder? If sharp words were blades, she could cut through steel.”

Eliza’s lips tugged into the smallest smile. “Something like that.”

“But she is right,” Clara said more gently. “This is not the time to hide. Everyone inside came for you. Do not let fear take it from you. Walk through those doors and show them you have nothing to be afraid of. I will be there with you the whole time. And so will Lord Vale.”

Eliza’s chest tightened even more at the thought, but Clara reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Now come, I am certain Lady Howard will return with reinforcements if we do not make it in there on time.”

Eliza drew in a deep breath. Then another. She smoothed her gown, letting her palms trace the folds, as if summoning courage from the fabric itself.

She eventually stepped forward, feeling her slippers tap against the polished floor, and pushed the door open. The ballroom shone with light from almost every direction, and the chandeliers above reflected the light onto the polished floors. Eliza stood at the edge, her knuckles interlocked as she looked around.