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Tricia rolled her eyes. If only they knew what she had done. Her walking around a ballroom alone would be the least of Cameron’s worries.
“I’ll find Mummy,” Tricia said. “You’re right. I should not be walking alone.”
She spied her mother talking to the dowager countess, and she began to stride toward them, only to be stopped by another young lord. After she shared a dance with that one, another one asked for the honor, and she couldn’t very well say no.
Five dances later, she finally got to her mother and the countess.
“Patricia, my dear, you look absolutely lovely,” the dowager countess said. “Your mother and I were just talking about you.”
Tricia raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yes, the countess was admiring your frock,” Lady Clementine said.
“Oh, thank you, my lady.” Tricia did a quick curtsy.
“You are such a lovely creature,” the countess said. “And I see you’ve been dancing with nearly every eligible gentleman this evening. I’m glad to see it. Your mother and I were just remarking about how you didn’t dance much at the first ball.”
“Oh.” Tricia’s cheeks burned. “It’s just that… It’s all so new to me, you know? I suppose I was a bit shy at first.”
Lady Clementine let out a laugh. Then she covered her mouth. “I do beg pardon, my lady. But the thought of Tricia being shy…”
“Yes, she’s much like my Lily, I think.”
Tricia knew her cheeks were burning now. They must be crimson. She was more like Lily than either her mother or Thomas’s knew…
“The duchess?” Tricia said innocently. “I can’t think of any woman I would rather emulate.”
“Yes, my daughter is beautiful. And intelligent.” Lady Ashford smiled. “And she certainly met her match in the duke.”
Tricia followed Lady Ashford’s gaze onto the ballroom floor, where Lily and the duke were dancing. They looked splendid together as always. The duke, so tall and broad—his own unfashionably long hair tied back in a leather band. He wore green, the color of his eyes. And Lily was dazzling in a dark red ensemble, her beautiful sable hair pulled up with curls tumbling over her shoulders.
Tricia looked over in contrast to Lily’s sister, Rose, Tricia’s own sister-in-law. Just as beautiful, but in a much softer way. Blond beauty and blue eyes that she inherited from her mother, the dowager countess.
The dowager countess, indeed, was still a beautiful woman at her age. Her own blond hair masked the grays of maturity, and she had the same blue eyes as her younger daughter.
“My ladies,” a deep voice said.
Tricia turned to see Lord Victor Polk.
“Lady Clementine, Lady Ashford, I do hope you will not be too upset if I take Lady Patricia for a twirl on the dance floor?”
“Of course not,” the countess said. “But I do think that’s up to Patricia, is it not?”
Lord Polk laughed. “Or her mother.” He glanced at Lady Clementine.
“Far be it from me to make any decisions for my daughter,” her mother said. “Patricia, this is up to you.”
Tricia turned and curtsied to Lord Polk. “I would be honored, my lord.”
More dancing. After Lord Polk was finished with her, Mr. Jameson took his turn. The two of them cut in on each other a decent amount, and by the time they were done, Tricia’s feet were sore.
“I do believe I’m due for a respite, gentlemen,” she said. “Do please excuse me.”
They both bowed.
“Of course, my lady,” Mr. Jameson said politely.
Tricia worked hard to keep from limping out of the ballroom as she walked toward the ladies’ retiring area.
