PoetsandPromises by Lucy Muir Page A

set.
    “Miss Earlywine’s come-out bids fair to be a success,”
Elisabeth commented to James. “She must be quite pleased.”
    “She is indeed,” Earlywine acknowledged. “‘Melia had feared
it was too early in the Season for a good turnout but I told her that this
early in the Season there were fewer entertainments, so the ones there were
would have more guests.
    “Have you seen Miss Thibeau yet this evening, Miss Ashwood?”
James continued, changing the topic. “Do you recall the artist we met at the
park? I discovered she is the niece of the Comtesse de Fleurille, and asked my
mother to send them an invitation.”
    Miss Thibeau. A chill crept over Elisabeth and all her
pleasure in the evening vanished. “No, Mr. Earlywine, I have not noticed Miss
Thibeau, but there is such a crush one might easily miss one guest amongst the
crowd.” She forced herself to answer politely, despite her dismay at the
information that Miss Thibeau might attend the ball.
    When James returned Elisabeth to Lady Parker at the end of
the set, Elisabeth felt unaccountably tired.
    “Might I bring you a glass of ratafia?” Lord Sherbourne
offered. “It might offer you some refreshment.”
    “Thank you, Lord Sherbourne,” Elisabeth accepted. She fanned
herself idly, watching his tall figure cross the ballroom floor to obtain her
ratafia, when she saw him stop to speak to someone. Thinking the dark-haired
woman he was speaking to looked familiar. Elisabeth looked at her more closely
and realized it was Miss Thibeau. She had come!
    “Lady Parker, Miss Ashwood, good evening.” A well-modulated
voice addressed them, diverting Elisabeth’s attention from Lord Sherbourne and
Miss Thibeau.
    “I have come to sit out a dance with you, Lady Parker,” The
Duke of Norland continued after they acknowledged his greeting. “You do
remember your promise?”
    “Of course, Your Grace,” Lady Parker admitted. “Please sit
down,” she added, indicating the chair Lord Sherbourne had vacated.
    As Lady Parker and the duke conversed in quiet tones
Elisabeth consulted her dance card. The next dance was the first waltz of the
evening. It was the dance she had been looking forward to more than any other,
for no other dance allowed one to hold one’s partner as closely and she had a
secret desire to be so held in Lord Sherbourne’s arms. It appeared that he had
entirely forgotten her ratafia, but surely Lord Sherbourne would return and ask
her to partner him for the waltz? They were, after all, betrothed—even though
it was not announced. Elisabeth watched him anxiously as he conversed with Miss
Thibeau and an older woman she assumed was the comtesse. The set ended and to
Elisabeth’s dismay she saw Lord Sherbourne take the floor with Miss Thibeau.
Stricken, Elisabeth tried to hide her expression behind a rapidly fluttered fan
but not before her companions had noticed it.
    “Miss Ashwood, would you do me the honor of partnering me
for the waltz?” the Duke of Norland requested, rising and holding out his
gloved hand.
    With an effort, Elisabeth blinked back tears of
disappointment and smiled at the duke. “Thank you, Your Grace, I would be
honored.”
    As Elisabeth took the floor with the duke she forced herself
to smile and concentrate on getting through the waltz creditably. She could not
have had a better partner, for the duke danced with elegant ease and assurance.
But Elisabeth’s mind was on another couple and each time Lord Sherbourne and
Miss Thibeau circled near them she could not help covertly watching and her
heart sank to see the smiles on their faces. So focused on Lord Sherbourne was
Elisabeth that she missed seeing how many eyes were on herself and her noble
partner. At last the waltz ended and the duke escorted Elisabeth back to Lady
Parker. Lord Sherbourne joined them soon afterward.
    “Miss Ashwood, I am sorry I was unable to dance the first
waltz with you but the comtesse suggested Miss Thibeau as an appropriate
partner and