"She'll blame it on you," another voice piped up, "if everything is ruined. You keep trying to step in and make everything better, but it never works."
"Remember the Duke? You ruined that one."
"And insulted her the day you met."
The crowd was clamoring now, everybody shouting above each other in an effort to be heard. The insults kept piling on top of each other until it was just too much.
Elmore jolted upright in bed, sweat clinging to every inch of his body. Lank hair stuck to his forehead, but his hands shook when he tried to flick it away.
A nightmare. It was only a nightmare.
He lay down again, willing his rapid heartbeat to calm. Elmore felt sick, his whole body protesting. Something was wrong, because this felt like more than any old nightmare.
Yet slowly, the feeling began to ease as he slipped back into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Elmore was awake early to prepare. The uneasiness from his dream stayed the entire afternoon; but when it was time to attend the ball, he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind.
They greeted Lord Foley at the ballroom entrance, and Elmore did his best to put on a happy smile. If anybody noticed something wrong, they were waiting for a better time to say so.
"Lord Winters, Mr. Washam — and oh, Miss Washam too. Lovely to see you all here. Please, enjoy yourselves. I would love to discuss your project later; but for now, please partake in the drinks and dancing."
"I shall get us drinks," Mr. Washam said softly, "may I suggest no alcohol. We should keep out wits, if we wish to discuss important topics."
Remembering his nightmare, Elmore was happy to agree. He couldn't even look at the glasses of champagne as a butler swept past with a tray.
They talked a little, and Elmore said hello to a few familiar faces. He didn't know many people in London, and those he did know hadn't stayed friends after Father's death. It was just as well; those were the same people that would have disliked his interest in botany. They wouldn't care for his project.
Finally, Lord Foley approached. He had a beaming smile on his angular face; he had slightly asymmetrical eyes which were emphasized by his terribly unfashionable monocle.
"Lady Washam," he asked, holding out his arm, "would you care for a dance? I especially love the quadrille."
Quadrille?Elmore cringed as he looked away.
Aurora sounded unsure as she accepted his invitation, but she accepted nonetheless. Together, they wandered off to the dance floor where several others gathered.
"You should dance with some young ladies," Mr. Washam suggested. Apparently, he saw no issue with Lord Foley whisking her away by herself. "I'm too old myself, but you should enjoy yourself."
He rose a questioning brow, unsure. "I don't know, I was hoping we could all speak to Lord Foley together."
Mr. Washam glanced across the ballroom, but Aurora had already vanished. "I'm sure that Aurora will tell him everything," he clarified, "unlike the Duke of Stonehull, he seemed to value her opinion. That's good, isn't it?"
The obvious answer was yes. The answer that Mr. Washam wanted to hear was alsoyes.Except that Elmore was struggling to find the same enthusiasm. Perhaps it was his own worry, emphasized by last night's odd dream, but he hated the idea of letting Aurora out of his sight.
Mr. Washam sipped his punch and gestured to the dance floor. "Find a nice young lady to dance the next set with. I'm sure plenty would love the chance."
He didn't want to, but it was better than standing around looking silly. He had faith that Aurora could handle herself. So, then. Dancing.
There was a group of three young women standing by the refreshments table. The oldest was perhaps twenty-three or so, older than the rest but far prettier. She was nowhere near as beautiful as Aurora, but her fair, freckled skin had a certain charm.
"My Lady," he said with a smile, "I am Lord Elmore Winters, Earl of Gloucestershire. What lovely name should I call you?"
The woman flashed a shy smile. "Lady Erica Harding, my Lord."
"Lady Erica. Perhaps I could ask you to dance; may I see your dance card?"
The women all giggled as he put his name in Lady Erica's card. She had so few slots taken, which was a shame because she seemed genuinely kind. She trilled nervously as he handed back her card, but her smile was bright and genuine.