Page 46 of How to Wed a Courtesan

With such self-assurance, surely it was possible to rise above people’s opinions.

Her stubbornly tilted chin was reflected in the glass with matched determination.

She could do this. She would do this.

But behind her determination there was melancholy hovering about her awareness—the same way it did every year around this time, and had done for the last three years. A memory she could never forget.

She embraced the pain of it, cupping it against her heart, and left for Dalton Place with a steeled spine.

She arrived in a flood of other guests and donned her confidence like a cloak, sweeping into the ballroom when she was announced.

Lady Dalton rushed towards her as soon as she entered. Her pink silk dress and the lovely flush to her cheeks, placed there no doubt by the recent birth of her daughter, accentuated her creamy skin.

‘Oh, Lottie, it’s so wonderful to see you.’

Violet had been miserable when she’d first begun seeing Lottie the previous year. There was no evidence of any sorrow on her glowing face now. Marriage suited her well.

‘I apologise for my late acceptance of your gracious invitation.’ Lottie reached for Violet’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

‘You needn’t apologise at all.’ Violet smiled. ‘We’re just so happy you’re here.’

Lord Dalton joined his wife and nodded to Lottie in greeting. ‘Thank you for coming. Violet was delighted when you agreed to attend. And I’m thrilled to see my sister so happy.’ He glanced over his shoulder across the room, to where Lord Rawley was speaking with Lady Caroline.

‘I do so hope things work out for them,’ Violet clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Caroline truly cares for him.’

‘I think we can at least hope for a dance this evening,’ Lottie said, thinking back to the shirt she had gifted him on their last session—a shirt with cuffs that were embroidered with the steps of the cotillion. There would be no lost scraps of paper or smeared ink on his palms this time.

Lord Dalton lifted his brows. ‘Do you know something we don’t?’

Lottie simply gave a little shrug.

Someone else caught her eye in the crowd of guests, several paces from Lord Rawley.

Evander.

Violet gave a little laugh. ‘I think you have your own dance waiting. We won’t detain you.’

Lottie inclined her head graciously to them and slipped into the crowd.

‘Miss Rossington.’ Evander, handsome as ever in a green waistcoat and dark jacket, bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Is that lovely smile for me?’

She laughed. ‘You are incorrigible.’

Several people shifted around them to make room on the dance floor.

Evander offered her his hand. ‘May I claim your first dance this evening?’

‘I would love nothing more.’

Lottie allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where they were several couples away from Lord Rawley and Lady Caroline.

Lottie stole a quick glance in their direction just as Rawley peeked at the cuff of his shirt beneath his jacket sleeve. As the music filled the air his steps were as they should be, and he gave only occasional glimpses downward.

‘It feels like heaven to dance with you once more, Lottie,’ Evander said, drawing her focus back to him. ‘You’re even more graceful than I remember.’

His flattery warmed Lottie with pleasure. He always had been complimentary of her. She still remembered when she’d shyly shown him her watercolours. She’d thought them simple things, of no great import other than to bring her peace when she painted. But he’d gone on about her skill and made her feel as though her painting was more than just dabbling to fill her time.

Through the dance they laughed and talked as they had in old times whenever the music brought them together, watching one another in eager anticipation as the dance pulled them apart. All too soon, it came to an end.