Glitter - Abbi Glines Page 0,8
evening,” she said with a small nod, before moving past us with a gentle swoosh of her skirts.
“I feel mentally exhausted already,” my aunt said under her breath, while continuing to smile much too brightly.
“Indeed,” I agreed.
“Excuse me but I do so hope there is a place left on your dance card,” a gentleman, not much older than myself, said as he stopped before me with a small tilt of his head.
Aunt Harriet nudged my arm and I tried not to wince when she giggled. I doubted very much that this man would be the one to save my family. He was far too young. However, I needed to be seen and hopefully attract the attention of other possible suitors.
It didn’t take long at all before I was weary of the dancing, listening to much talk about nothing that interested me, and three glasses of lemonade before I realized that promenading in the Park no longer felt foolish but a much-preferred pastime. At least then I just had to appear attractive without the bothersome conversation. It was a bit smothering having several men surrounding me with endless talk. This was why I had come to London or at least this was what I must do in order to find a husband. However, the longer they gathered around me the more I realized how difficult my reclusive tendencies may make things.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I do believe I’m next on the lady’s dance card,” a deep voice silenced the others, and as if they’d been commanded, the small collection of suitors moved to allow the man adequate space. I would think this surprising, but upon seeing the owner of the deep voice, I understood. He had an intimidating presence and I was sure his name was not on my card. He held an important title and from the quick glance I’d taken of my card earlier, I did not recall a title that went with that face. I would, no doubt, remember such as that.
“If I may, Lord Ashington, I believe I am, in fact, next on Miss Bathurst card,” a man who had introduced himself as Mr. Fletcher spoke up, although there was a slight quiver in his voice.
Ignoring Mr. Fletcher, Lord Ashington stood before me, waiting with a challenge in his eye that I believed must have been for me. Was he suggesting I tell an untruth? I did not expect Mr. Fletcher to be my future husband, but he was kind, and he’d obviously just done something that wasn’t easy for him. The nervous tremble in his voice had given that away. I wouldn’t embarrass him for the attention of the more powerful man before me. Although, I was positive Lord Ashington expected me to do just that. Arrogance was never appealing, at least not to me.
“I am most positive that Mr. Fletcher is correct,” I replied, looking up at the tall dark-haired man refusing to feel intimidated. I had only focused on studying those of the ton whose homes we would be visiting this season. Ashington wasn’t one of them. I did not recognize his face, but I could assume by the others’ response to him that he was important. That was all well and good for him, but I wasn’t important and I would not act as his silly puppet.
Lord Ashington lifted one dark eyebrow and studied me a moment. “My mistake,” he said after a moment’s pause. Then turning to look back at Mr. Fletcher, he gave a slight nod.
“I will, uh, that is Lord Ashington, I will give up my spot, uh, if you desire,” Mr. Fletcher stammered nervously. I wanted to roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of his words. Was Mr. Fletcher that weak? What could Lord Ashington do to make him so nervous? Had I not just declined Lord Ashington for him?
“That won’t be necessary, Fletcher. I find my attention has shifted elsewhere,” he added and then walked away through the path the others had supplied for him.
The insult wasn’t lost on me. I did not expect to converse with Lord Ashington again. A touch at my elbow wasn’t subtle, and when I turned to see who it was, my aunt’s anxious face was focused on the direction of Lord Ashington’s departure.
“Oh dear, what did you say to Lord Ashington?” my aunt whispered close to my ear.
“He claimed he was next on my dance card, but he was not. He’s not even on my card.”
Aunt Harriet bit her bottom lip worrisomely.