brimming, she stepped back. He was correct. The singer ended with those very words. Were they meant for her when Ethan spoke them to her? Would he crown her with roses?
The audience applauded, and Mrs. Brighton stepped out front. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will have a brief intermission. Please, help yourselves to the refreshment table.”
Guests either stood up from their chairs or glided away from their places with laughter and light conversation. Mrs. Brighton waltzed up to Darcy with three gentlemen in tow, all young and dressed to the nines.
“You cannot have our American cousin all to yourself, Mr. Brennan.” She waved him back, then took Darcy’s hand and moved her forward as the trio gathered around. “May I introduce Mr. Clary, Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Price?”
Darcy lowered her head and curtseyed. Each man bowed and then resumed staring at her. Their gazes were ones of fascination at a new face from a foreign land. But Ethan’s—his shifted between his heart and mind. She could tell between the two, for when his eyes grew warm, they were filled with longing. When they grew cold and stern, she saw frustration.
“Miss Darcy.” Mr. Hammond’s smile revealed a mouth full of crooked teeth. “Welcome to Derbyshire. It is an honor.” He bowed, lifted her hand, and kissed the top of it.
“Thank you, sir.”
“All of us welcome you, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Clary stammered. “It isn’t every day we meet an American girl. You must tell us all about yourself.”
She heard Ethan sigh, and from the corner of her eye, she saw how he stiffened. He drew his shoulders up and set his jaw. The scowl on his face deepened. He would not look at her, but turned, then strode off. Disappointed, her eyes followed him through the crowd until he disappeared. Come back. But she knew he would not as long as she had admirers hovering around her.
“Allow me to fetch a cup of punch for you,” said Mr. Price. He looked younger than the others, with a hint of whiskers shadowing his jaw. She nodded and his large brown eyes lit up. Then shouldering his way past the others, he headed with a skip of his heels for the refreshment table.
Darcy felt a tug on her gown, then another, and to her horror it tore. As quickly as she could, she gathered up the fabric against the gap in the seam at her waist. The zealous bungler had stepped on her hem, and when he noticed what he’d done, he tried to free her gown from the brass buckle on his shoe.
“Oh, I am sorry, Miss Darcy.” Then the seam tore a bit more, leaving a gap inches wide that broke open beneath her left arm.
“Dear me, Price. Look what you’ve done,” said Mr. Hammond. “What a buffoon you are.” Hammond leaned down and freed her dress from Mr. Price’s offensive shoe. Darcy’s face burned with embarrassment as she attempted to hide the rip with her hand, but the fabric hung so much that her chemise peeked out from behind it.
Fortunately Mrs. Brighton stood nearby. Desperate for help, Darcy darted her eyes her way. Without delay, Mrs. Brighton moved through the crowd, reached her, and drew her away from onlookers to a side room.
“Oh, dear me. What a tragedy. I shall call my maid and have her mend that. Do not worry, Darcy. If anyone should be mortified it should be that bumbling Mr. Price. If he cannot conduct himself in a more gracious and controlled manner, I shall not invite him ever again to Bentmoor.”
“So much for my skills at dressmaking.” Darcy struggled to make light of the mishap. “I should have made the stitches tighter.”
The fine brows of her hostess arched. “You made this gown all by yourself?”
“We have few tailors and seamstresses where I am from. My cousin Martha helped me.”
“You are a fascinating creature. No wonder you caught Mr. Brennan’s eye. Well, my maid is skilled with a needle, and all shall be repaired quickly.” She went to pull the bell cord, but Darcy set her hand on the lady’s arm.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’d rather go home.”
Mrs. Brighton wiggled a smile. “Ah, that is a pity. The evening is ruined for you. I shall call for the carriage.”
At least her cloak hid the damage. But nothing could hide the humiliation she felt, nor the disappointment that she had to leave. How could she stay, with her dress stitched up in haste, with gossip flying around the