Page 45 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Juniper had noted her unease. Emily had never been troubled by crowds before her father’s unexpected elevation to nobility. She had danced at many a country assembly without growing faint, and she had sat packed into church pews without the slightest flutter. Yet in the months since everything changed, her tolerance for bustling rooms had dwindled.

What was it about becoming a titled lady that made everything about her conspicuous? The constant worry of mis-stepping, the fear of reflecting poorly upon her family, coursed through her mind in a constant stream. She missed the unselfconscious girl she had been before her father became an earl.

There was also that memory of the ball in London that stung every time it came to mind. Anxiety strangled her heart, and she took in a deep breath to settle it. This was not London. She had Jack and Juniper as her support. She was making friends. And this time, she would see Lyness Eastwood.

Jack stepped between his wife and sister. “As the evening goes on, things will calm down,” he said confidently. “And Emily will be distracted from the sound and noise by pleasant conversation. Several acquaintances assured me you will have a full night of dancing, Emily. Should you wish it.”

She shot him a sharp look. “Jack, have you been soliciting dances for me? I would much rather gentlemen ask because they want to, not because my brother hinted I needed partners.”

Jack lifted his brows. “I beg your pardon. I believed myself rather clever for ensuring you had a list of options.”

Juniper exhaled sharply. “Securing partners for one’s female relatives is hardly unusual, but one generally does not announce to the young lady that one has done so.” With a commiserating glance at Emily, she added, “And we like to think we are sought after for our own merits. Not our relatives’ meddling.”

Emily folded her arms. “Precisely. I should like my partners to enjoy my company—not merely your friendship.” It was absurd, really, that the only gentleman she wished to see was the one she worried would not seek her out. Her stomach tightened at the thought of it.

Jack looked between the two women. Juniper nodded pointedly. He sighed. “Very well. I made a poor decision. Forgive me. Truly, Emily, I wanted you to enjoy as many dances as you please. You loved dancing once. I remember.”

That wistful thought softened her irritation with her brother. After Jack joined the military, he returned home perhaps once a year, usually to fulfill family obligations. But the winter before their elevation, he had taken a week’s leave from his post as a footman and attended a country dance with the family. She had not lacked partners that night—her brothers’ friends, local gentlemen, all were happy to take a turn with her. She had laughed nearly the whole night. The contrast of those simpler evenings with the London balls was extreme.

This York assembly, however, was entirely different from both.

“Unfortunately,” she said quietly, “I am not as confident here. Everyone looks so resplendent. I hope I remember the steps well enough not to disgrace myself.”

“You will be wonderful,” Juniper assured her, as though bolstering Emily for an ordeal. “More than wonderful. By the end of the evening, I daresay many here will speak of your grace.”

Emily laughed. “I would rather they did not speak of me at all—unless to merely say that I attended and had a pleasant time.”

Juniper gave Jack a pointed look. “Do you hear her? She has no desire to stand out.”

Jack—who had spent years in service, accustomed to the edges of grand rooms—only shrugged. “Sensible, if you ask me. Who wishes to be the center of a crowd’s notice?”

“Exactly.” Emily gestured with a flick of her fingers at him. “If Jack may stand at the periphery and enjoy himself, why should I not find my own wall to prop up?”

“You will not be on the periphery,” Juniper said, tone brooking no argument. “You will be dancing.”

Jack offered each lady an arm. “Come—let us make a circuit of the room and determine where we would most like to be. Walls or no walls.”

They set off together. Jack leaned slightly toward Emily. “I have it on good authority that Lord Hartwell intends to ask you for at least two sets.”

“Two?” she whispered. “Jack!”

Two sets with Lord Hartwell—and yet the thought brought none of the flutter she felt wondering whether Mr. Eastwood might claim even a single dance.

“The ball will last into the early hours,” he reminded her. “Do not be surprised if he claims the supper dance.”

Emily winced but quickly arranged her features into polite serenity. “If he asks, I will accept.” That was the bargain every lady made when coming to a ball. To deny a dance with one gentleman meant forgoing that pleasure the rest of the evening. Unless one was clever enough to work around that social constraint. Something she wasn’t equal to this evening.

No sign of Lord Hartwell’s party caught her eye yet.

Truly, she needed to take more control of her thoughts. From the moment she had entered the assembly rooms, her gaze had searched for one man alone: Mr. Lyness Eastwood.

Would he still think of the way their hands had fit together the day before? Had it meant anything to him? Would he ask her to dance? She dearly hoped so. And if he did not, she would find some graceful way to hint that he ought. One set with him—two, if she were fortunate—would make the anxiety about attending, would make even the crowded evening, more than worth the effort.

“Oh! Lady Emily!” called a familiar voice. Miss Nelson and her twin sister, Miss Theodora, approached in gowns of deep blue and green, both looking thoroughly pleased with themselves.

“Is this not marvelous?” Miss Nelson asked. “The splendor of the room cannot be overstated.”

“And the evening is perfect,” Miss Theodora added. “Not too warm, and the air is circulating nicely. I have very high hopes for tonight.”