Page 16 of Victorian Bride

“I think that is the favorite of most young people,” Eleanora said. “Though some of the older ladies and gentlemen are equally as fond of it.”

“Do you need something to drink?” Lottie asked.

A drink did in fact sound nice, and they were making their way to the refreshment room when the butler called out a new arrival.

“Lord Kayden McGregor!”

Mya turned to look up toward the top of the steps, where Kayden, in a closely tailored charcoal gray suit, was making his way down. She thought the flush in her cheeks might not be entirely from dancing any longer.

That was confirmed when Lottie nudged her side.

“The man you were waiting for?” she teased.

“I was not waiting for anyone,” Mya protested, to no avail. Her companions were obviously convinced that Mya had been on the lookout for Kayden's arrival. Which, if she were honest, was not entirely untrue. Though she had not been pining for him. Only wishing to see if he would show up. And see what he would look like dressed in fine clothes. Or if he would wear a kilt, like her dream. And if he was a fine dancer? And if he would ask her to dance. No, she had not been pining for him at all.

“As you are already introduced, it will not violate etiquette for him to ask you if you would like a dance. Give it a few moments and we shall see what he does.”

“He will have to dance with the young lady of the household first,” Eleanora said, brushing a loose wisp of hair back from her face. “But I think that will not be a recurring activity.”

Mya, watching as Kayden was presented to the hosts of the ball and a smiling Blanche Auteberry, hoped it would not be. A spike of jealousy flickered through her. Strange, as she had no ties to Lord McGregor. She found him insufferable to say the least.

The next dance was not one on the card, and Mya looked to Eleanora and Lottie to explain. Lottie rolled her eyes.

“It’s not acceptable to cancel on a dance partner who has signed your card,” she said. “But the unscheduled dances are open to choice. So, they have given Miss Auteberry the opportunity to dance with Lord McGregor by slipping an extra dance in. It’s manipulative, but not considered rude, as there will be a few dances over the course of the night that are not on the card. They can claim this is merely the moment the band chose to slip one in.”

Miss Auteberry was, in fact, dancing with Kayden. Mya, rather than take an invitation, begged out on the excuse that she was not used to such exertion after a recent convalescence and retired to a chair along the wall to watch.

He was a beautiful dancer. And not only in the sense that he was a beautiful man. Watching him was spellbinding, every motion smooth as a hunting cat's stride. Mya could almost see the way the muscle shifted under the close-fitting cloth of his suit as he led a rather clumsy Miss Auteberry across the floor.

Heat rushed to her face, and Mya lifted her fan, attempting to cool the red blush that must be sitting on her cheeks at the memory of the dream, suddenly vivid in her mind's eye.

“Are you well?” a voice asked beside her. “Do you need air, or perhaps water?”

“Oh,” Mya said, turning to face the young woman who was leaning worriedly over from the next seat. “I am quite well. Thank you. Just a little unused to so much dancing.” She smiled. “Hello. I am Mya Boyle.”

“I—” The girl giggled a little. She was on the plain side, her dress of a less quality fabric than some of the finer ones in the room, but her brown eyes were very pretty, and the little gap between her two front teeth made her smile rather sweet. She seemed the kind of person that it would be pleasant to have a conversation with. “I do not think you are meant to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Introduce yourself. Without, well, a host. Or someone.”

Mya did not point out just how ridiculous she thought that rule was, though she really wanted to. She shrugged, and offered a smile. “I will not tell if you won’t.”

There was no one close enough to hear, and they could always claim later that they had met properly. The young woman smiled.

“Very well, then. I am Agnes Donald.”

“I am delighted to meet you, Agnes,” Mya said honestly.

By the time Lottie and Eleanora returned from the dance, Mya had discovered—while watching Kayden from the corner of her eye—that Agnes was the youngest of four daughters, and that her dress had been passed on from the one above her in age. Her family was well off enough to make into the upper echelons of polite society, but only just, which left her unsure of where she fit in the scheme of things. Mya thought perhaps making friends with a pair of eccentric, wealthy young women might help in that regard. Of course, it might also do more harm than good. It all depended on how eccentric one considered Lottie and, by extension, Eleanora. Her brusque dismissal of the young man earlier in the night had likely not aided her case.

“Miss Donald, is it?” Lottie said when she had reached them, dismissing the young man who had escorted her across the floor to her seat. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Miss Alan,” Agnes said, dipping her head in a little bow. “And Miss MacLaren,” she added as Eleanora too was dropped off at her seat by a dance partner who seemed to sense rather quickly that his presence was no longer desired.

“Hello, Miss Donald,” Eleanora said, offering a kind smile and smoothing out her skirts. “Mya, who is next on your dance card?”

Mya glanced down at the little booklet hanging from her wrist. “There is an empty space,” she said. She had left it in the hopes that Kayden, or at least someone more interesting than the vapid boys who flocked after Lottie, might ask her.