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But the opportunity never came.

More time passed by. The Otterhams, whom Livvy had not known would be attending that evening, found her at one point, which proved to give her a most desired boost.

After complimenting her appearance and her bravery for attending, they asked about her latest books just before another man was introduced to her.

“I do be sorry,” Livvy muttered to her friends as she was led away once again to the floor.

But Mrs. Otterham looked more than pleased. “We’ll speak soon, love. Ye enjoy yourself this evenin’. Ye deserve it.”

Then Livvy was whisked away yet again by another handsome, amiable, intelligent man who was not August Moon.

When the dance ended, and the man—Mr. Arnold, was it?—had asked for Livvy to save him another dance, she and Emma had excused themselves to retrieve glasses of lemonade with the intent to walk out into the small garden attached to the back of the inn.

However, with a heavy rain having started in the last hour, the girls instead settled on standing near a back window, away from prying eyes so they might rest from the current set of dances.

Livvy drank her lemonade as she observed those around her, reveling in the laughter and smiles abounding. She spotted Ophelia and Portia across the floor, laughing together in a group of younger men and women, clearly in their element that evening.

“’Ow ye be farin’, Livvy?” Emma asked, taking a sip of her lemonade.

Livvy looked away from the sisters. “Quite tired. But more than glad I came,” she answered truthfully. Matters were quite perfect, aside from August’s disappearance, of course.

“Aw, I be glad to ’ear it.” Emma took another sip, then her eyes shifted to stare at the rain that slid down the wood-paned windows.

Livvy watched her for a moment, wondering why Emma seemed sad herself before realization hit.

How selfish Livvy had been, thinking of herself all evening when she had not even considered the difficulty Emma would be facing that night, as well.

With a humble heart, she turned to her friend. “And ’ow be ye?”

Emma gave a weakened smile. “Fine. I only wish…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I wish I could dance with ’im.”

Livvy knew at once of whom Emma spoke. How she felt for her, seeing Nicholas dancing with other women all while being unable to dance with him herself.

It would seem both she and Emma were doomed to be distanced from the men they loved that night.

Unless…

Livvy chewed on her bottom lip, an idea formulating in her mind. “Was the Oslo Waltz just announced?” she asked.

Emma pulled in her lips, thinking. “I believe so.”

Livvy continued to mull over her thoughts.

“What ye be thinkin’?” Emma asked.

Livvy looked around the crowds, craning her neck before spotting Mr. Cuff near the dessert table, his eyes cast down, hands behind his back.

“Find yourself a partner,” Livvy said.

She left before Emma had the chance to respond.

Swerving in and out of giggling ladies and flirting men, Livvy headed for Mr. Cuff. She knew, even in her limited experience, that what she was about to do was highly untoward—and far too direct—but she hardly cared if Emma could have a moment to shine.

“Mr. Cuff,” Livvy greeted as she neared the table.

Mr. Cuff looked up, surprise registering across his handsome features before he smiled, his eyes averted shyly. “Miss May, good evenin’.”

Livvy looked to the growing group of couples on the dance floor. They needed to make haste, or they’d miss it. But Mr. Cuff was even more reserved than she was when it came to Society. Would her plan even work?