Barbara’s expression softened when she saw her. “Oh, you look divine, my darling.” She touched her cheek.
“Thank you, Mama. Shall we?”
They met her father, Aldrich, in the front hall. It was comforting and reassuring to have them with her tonight, knowing she wouldn't have to face the ton alone. He smiled at her in the same way that her mother had.
“You look like an angel, Imogen. You remind me of the day you attended your first ball after your coming out.”
Her smile faltered. That had been the night she caught Harris’s attention; the night the course of her existence would change irrevocably. Taking a deep and slow breath, she composed herself and thanked her father for his compliment before following them out to the waiting carriage.
* * *
The trip to Burenstone House did not take long, and the moment they arrived, small knots formed in Imogen’s stomach. Her father descended first and helped her mother down. When it was her turn, she hesitated.
Could she truly do this? She asked herself. No, she would need much more courage than she thought.
Taking her father’s proffered hand, Imogen stepped down from the carriage, looking about her. Some faces were familiar, some were not. She considered she might be seeing people she’d never met after so long out of society.
The butler escorted them to the ballroom, where they met their hostess Margaret, Dowager Viscountess of Burenstone. She was Barbara's best friend, and their very friendship was one of the reasons Imogen chose this soirée as her first outing.
“Oh, welcome!” Margaret clapped her hands in delight when she saw them. “I am glad you could attend,” she said to Imogen after they had exchanged greetings. “Please, allow me to introduce my son Arthur, Viscount Burenstone.”
He bowed politely at Imogen, and she inclined her head in return. Arthur had not been in England when she made her debut. At that time, Margaret had dearly wanted to make a match of them so it is highly possible she still harbored such thoughts about them.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. My mother has told me much about you,” he said cordially.
“It is wonderful to see you amongst us again,” Margaret said before Imogen could respond. She was already feeling overwhelmed, but she kept a smile on her face. "You have a lot of courage. After Arthur's father died, I was unable to leave the house for two years. “I truly admire your bravery, my dear.”
“Oh, yes,” Barbara chimed in. “I am proud of her indeed. During the first few months, she was utterly miserable. It was why we insisted she stay with us.”
Margaret took Imogen’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “We are all here if you require anything. Is that not right, Arthur?”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” he said awkwardly.
“Thank you, Margaret. I appreciate your sympathy,” Imogen responded as gracefully as possible. Lying was becoming more difficult by the day, but she couldn't tell anyone how unhappy she had been in her marriage or how much she despised her late husband. The news would be devastating to her parents, particularly her father, whose health was deteriorating.
She remained close to her parents for the first half of the evening – watching couples twirl around the dance floor. The sight evoked an unwanted memory. At her first ball, she had stood at the fringes of the ballroom without a dance partner. She had been shy and inexperienced, and when her gaze met that of a handsome gentleman from across the room, she blushed effortlessly. Harris then approached her and asked her to dance. She felt fortunate that night, wide-eyed as he charmed her with wit and good humor. The next day, they were in the gossip sheets declaring themthe ideal match, the envy of every debutante and spinster.
Imogen averted her gaze, silently chastising herself for allowing such memories to surface. She was supposed to forget aboutHarris and start her life anewnow that she was out of his clutches. She slipped away, angry with herself, to find a refreshment table.She moved slowly and carefully, avoiding the gaze of the guests. Knowing them, they would want to talk to her about him.
There was nothing strong enough for her at the table when she arrived, but thankfully, a footman approached with champagne. She helped herself to a glass; appreciating its effervescence. She then caught sight of her mother and Arthur weaving through the crowd toward her.
“I have been looking everywhere for you,” Barbara said, then turned to Arthur expectantly.
He bowed and held out his hand. “Will you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?”
Imogen set her champagne down and took his proffered hand, tempted to cast a disapproving glance at her mother. But, as a woman who always considered her actions, she refrained. Everything her mother did was motivated by love and concern, as confirmed by Barbara's encouraging smile.
Besides, how bad could a dance with Arthur be?
She was disappointed to learn the dance was a waltz because she would have to be in his arms, and as soon as it started, Arthur stepped on her foot.
“Oh, forgive me,” he apologized. “That has never happened before.” His face colored.
Seeing him flustered made her feel sorry for him and her irritation abated. “Think nothing of it, my lord,” she assured him.
That seemed to make him feel better but Imogen felt uncomfortable in his arms – making her wish the dance would be over soon.
“I recently acquired a phaeton,” he said with some pride in his voice. “It is a grand conveyance, very fashionable.”