Chapter Five
By dinner Persephone had changed her gown three times, skimmed through an entire shelf of books, and drank two pots of tea. She was no closer to a plan and not close enough to the water closet.
Dinner dragged on longer than the war against the French, and then there were card games to be played, silhouettes to draw, and a pianoforte to be played. Persephone was exempt from the last, since her playing was as rusty as her social graces. Lady Louisa played so beautifully two gentlemen openly wept. One of the other girls took over so an impromptu dance could be held. The footmen moved chairs and rolled the carpets away as Persephone found her usual corner. She had already claimed her favorite chair, half screened by a potted plant in which she’d hidden a small book, should the evening get desperate.
Priya sat next to her before she could reach for it, cooling herself with a fan painted like a peacock. She wore a gown of deep rose that glowed against brown skin.
“No shrubbery for you tonight?” Persephone asked.
Priya leaned back against the chair’s embroidered cushion. “Even I must make an appearance now and again.” She grimaced. “And I’ve a dozen new friends apparently, all so eager to renew an acquaintance that barely existed in the first place. I’ve a mind to murder my brother for not eloping like a sensible person.”
Persephone made a noncommittal noise that she hoped sounded vaguely sympathetic. The thought of Conall courting one of these perfectly polished girls sat like sour milk in her belly. She accepted a flute of champagne from a passing footman when she started to wonder if her silence was too long, implied too much.
“Are you not dancing?” Priya asked.
Persephone shook her head. “Pri, do I ever?”
Priya watched Louisa and Holly, their gazes on Persephone. “Ridiculous,” she announced. She waved her brother over. “Conall, make yourself useful and dance with Persephone.”
Persephone nearly choked on her champagne. “That isn’t necessary.”
“I want to put the cat among the pigeons.” She looked positively maniacal in her glee. “Everyone here thinks themselves quite above our Percy and I should like to see them suffer a little for it.”
Conall raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Heat prickled through Persephone just at the sound of his voice.
Persephone shook her head wildly. “No, really, it’s fine.” Falling off a balcony was preferable. Or into another hole.
He took the flute from her and passed it to his sister. “You should know by now that Priya always gets her way.” He held out his arm and she had no choice but to take it or appear unforgivably rude. The strains of a country dance filled the room, as did surprised glances and whispering. A gentleman like enough to Ivy to be her brother, elbowed her indignantly.
“Now you’ve done it,” Persephone told him wryly, as they faced each other in the line of dancers. “They’ll be talking behind their hands about this for the rest of the night.”
“Let them,” Conall said, bowing. “They could do with a set down.”
“I don’t need defending.” She curtsied sharply.
“Of course, you do.”
She stiffened, faintly insulted. He chuckled, taking her hand for the next turn. She felt the heat of him through their gloves. As the dance went on, the music swelled. She caught the way Conall kept glancing at the musicians.
“It’s the violins, isn’t it?” she asked when the steps brought them together again.
He looked surprised. “The violins?”
“I remember how well you played. How thrilled you were when the duke had one made specially for you on your sixteenth birthday.”
His smile was brief, nostalgic. “My parents were not pleased. It’s not a suitable pastime for an earl.”
“Do you still play?”
“No.” Something changed in his expression, something that came and went too quickly to name but still had her wishing she could offer some comfort.
“You must miss it.”
The dance took them away from each other again, turning them hand to hand with the others, and circling them back together like stars on the same trajectory.
“I wasn’t implying that you can’t defend yourself before. Priya has quite disabused me of that notion, believe me. But one doesn’t always protect a person because they aren’t capable, but instead because they are worth protecting.”
She concentrated on the steps because she found she didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t his easy flattery, his practiced flirting.