“Am I squeezing your hand a little too tight?”
“Just a bit!” They laughed again before they fell silent, coming face to face with Gertrude and Lady Chester standing by the drinks table.
“Lady Chester, this is my good friend, Miss Margery Blakely.” Ophelia began the introductions. Though Lady Chester and Gertrude were polite as they met Margery, Ophelia did not miss that their attentions seemed to be fixed elsewhere. They kept glancing over Ophelia’s head, looking back and forth as if they were hunting birds.
“Ah, he’s here,” Lady Chester said eventually.
“Who’s here?” Margery asked.
“A very special gentleman indeed,” Lady Chester assured them and smiled so broadly, it was clear she was proud of whichever gentleman she had seen across the room.
“Is it the prince regent?” Ophelia jested. Margery laughed with her, but Gertrude merely widened her eyes as if silently urging Ophelia to curb her humour.
“Ah, there you are, George.” Lady Chester took the arm of the gentleman that approached them.
Ophelia realised just who she was being introduced to. Viscount Chester, George Villiers, was a gentleman she had met at a handful of occasions before, though would struggle to recognise, for he was so often draping himself in the latest fashions of the day.
One of the times she had met him, he had been wearing a long white wig, in the pointed shoes and laced cuffs associated with the dandies. Today, he was quite different. The dark brown hair on his temple was coiffed with not a hair out of place. It looked so unnatural that Ophelia rather imagined it had been waxed so much that it was as stiff as his patent black shoes.
“Miss Townsend. I am delighted to meet you again.” He bowed deeply, much deeper than he should have done.
“Goodness, careful, Lord Chester. I wouldn’t want you to slip.”
Again, Margery was the only one who laughed at her jest. Ophelia was beginning to think there was no point in making jokes at all.
“It is good to see you, too.” She introduced him to Margery, who hung on her arm, but Lord Chester barely looked at Margery for long. His eyes were rather fixed on Ophelia, in a very uncomfortable way.
“Gertrude and I were just talking of how much we’d like to see Ophelia dancing again,” Lady Chester said with ease.
“Were you?” Ophelia’s eyes shot to the sisters, noting instantly what they were doing—attempting to force an invitation to dance.
“Yes. I long to see you dance, Ophelia. You used to enjoy it so much,” Gertrude encouraged her on with a smile.
“I am in no mood to dance. Mourning rather does that,” Ophelia reminded them both.
“Yes, but we must leave our mourning period sometime, must we not?” Gertrude declared quite confidently. “Would you not agree, Miss Bleakly?”
“Blakely,” Margery and Ophelia corrected Gertrude at the same time. Gertrude smiled in an apology, though she didn’t utter the words.
“I’m sure Margery agrees with me.” Ophelia held onto her friend’s hander tighter.
“Yes,” Margery said hurriedly. “I do.”
“Then let me persuade you otherwise, Miss Townsend.” Lord Chester offered his hand forward. “We see each other so rarely. I would be truly disappointed to miss out on this rare opportunity to dance with you.”
Ophelia felt trapped. With Lord Chester offering his hand in such a way, for many people to see, she could not turn him down without looking rude. Accepting her fate, she gave him her hand and released Margery’s.
“Good luck,” Margery whispered as Ophelia walked away. She shot one last look at Margery, wishing to say more.
I do not wish to be doing this!
Lord Chester led her to the middle of the dance floor, which was awash with people. With so many on the floor, dancing, the heat in the room increased, and the violins seemed to play an increasingly quick tune. Ophelia danced as well as she could, though she lacked the heart to enjoy it tonight. She thought too much of the last ball she had attended in Cheltenham, when her father had been alive.
Halfway through the cotillion, Lord Chester clearly desired her to speak.
“I must confess how delighted I am to see you again, Miss Townsend.”
“Yes, you said, my lord.” Her wryness was something he plainly missed.