The Irish Upstart (32 page)

Montague appeared nonplused, but only for a moment.
“
Quite all right, Miss O’Fallon. I shall return you to your chaperone. Perhaps later, when the orchestra plays something... uh, more simple, we shall dance.
”

Evleen could feel a blush of shame creep over her cheeks as Montague led her to the sidelines. When they arrived, he added to her humiliation when he proceeded to ask Charlotte,
“
Would you care to dance? It appears Miss O’Fallon, doesn’t... er, care to waltz.
”

As if the whole world wouldn’t know that socially inept Miss O’Fallon did not know how to waltz!

Numb with embarrassment, Evleen stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched as Montague swept Charlotte into his arms and whirled her away. As the two dipped and twirled to the strains of the lively waltz, she saw how skilled they were, how exceedingly graceful, thus making her mortification so much the worse.

She wondered why Lydia Trevlyn had mislead her. Quickly she found the answer.
To make a fool of me–discredit me in the eyes of Montague and all the rest.

Evleen found a chair in a remote corner where she sat, wishing she could make herself invisible. The orchestra struck up another waltz, followed by a quadrille, which she also couldn’t dance. She felt dowdy, clumsy, awkward and awful.

It was going to be long night.

“
Good evening, Miss O’Fallon.
”

Lord Thomas!
Looking exceedingly handsome in his formal clothes, he stood before her, bending in a smooth little bow.

Startled, she leaped to her feet and blurted,
“
But I thought you weren’t coming.
”
She regretted her words instantly, not wanting him to know she thought of him at all.

“
I changed my plans, obviously.
”
His forehead furrowed in an inquisitive frown.
“
Why aren’t you dancing?
”

“
I... have a headache.
”
She hated to lie, but she’d be even further humiliated if he learned the truth.

“
A headache?
”
he asked, obviously unconvinced. He smiled with beautiful candor and said,
“
You look lovely tonight. I cannot imagine why you’re hiding in a corner. In fact, I would have thought you’d have captured every man’s heart by now and become the belle of the ball.
”

“
Obviously not.
”
She knew he was just being polite because how could he think she looked lovely when her hair was awful and she wore this ugly dress? She knew she’d sounded cool, but her thoughts were chaotic as she tried to decide what to say next. If she was too friendly, he would ask her to dance, perish the thought.

“
Do you realize we’ve never danced together before?
”
He extended his hand.
“
Let us remedy that lamentable state of affairs right now, shall we?
”

The orchestra struck up another waltz.
Oh, no
. How many times tonight could she die of shame? What to do? She did not want to be rude, but on the other hand, she most definitely did not want Thomas to witness her making a fool of herself.

“
I do not care to dance with you, Lord Thomas.
”

For a fleeting moment, Thomas looked as if he had been struck. Quickly his face became a mask.
“
Well, then,
”
he said, obviously giving himself time to arrange his thoughts. He gave her a slight bow and with effortless grace continued,
“
Delightful to see you again, Miss O’Fallon. Good night. Have a pleasant evening.
”

As she watched his broad shoulders disappear into the crowd, Evleen wanted to cry,
Wait. Come back. I didn’t mean it
. How terrible that she had allowed her pride to guide her feelings. She didn’t know how she could feel any more miserable, as well as guilty, besides. She should simply have admitted to him she couldn’t waltz, but she’d wanted to appear perfect in his eyes.
But how foolish. Such vanity
. She shouldn’t give a farthing what Thomas thought of her.

But aside from all that, even if she were skilled at waltzing, she should be searching for a rich man with a title, not a poor second son.

I’ll get over him
, she thought, as a lump rose in her throat.
I must
.

At last the orchestra played music for a country dance she recognized, and she realized she could dance to that. Even so, she was sorely tempted to sit here, safe in this sheltered corner, until the ball was over. But she wasn’t a coward and she wasn’t a quitter. She returned to stand by Lydia, who had earlier informed her a young lady must not stray far from her chaperone unless dancing. The orchestra struck up another country dance, which she knew she could do, and when a young blade asked her to dance, to her relief, she found she actually enjoyed it. It was hard to know how to handle her silly fan, though. She observed the other young ladies and noted how they would flutter their fan, occasionally bringing it to their face, peering coyly at their partner over the top. Such silliness.
Not me, not ever
, she thought, and kept her fan to her side, occasionally raising it to let it rest on her right cheek. The gloves, too, were annoying. How she wished she could strip them off.

She was pleased that no waltzes or quadrilles had played for a time. She had been dancing every dance, with several different partners, when a florid-faced man of fifty or so, with a paunch and drooping eyelids, came up to Mrs. Trevlyn, eyed Evleen, and asked to be introduced.

Lydia demonstrated once again she could smile when the need arose. In fact, she appeared quite delighted.
“
This is William, Lord Corneale, Evleen,
”
she said eagerly, signaling his importance by raising a significant eyebrow as she further commented,
“
Lord Corneale owns one of the largest estates in England and is recently widowed.
”

The older man bowed low to Evleen, all the time raking her body with lust-filled eyes.
“
Charmed to meet you, Miss O’Fallon. Where has a lovely girl like you been hiding?
”

Evleen dipped a curtsy. After all that had gone wrong this evening, she was relieved she didn’t fall over.
“
I am delighted to meet you, sir.
”

Lydia assumed a simpering smile.
“
If you’re wondering why her speech sounds a bit strange, Lord Corneale, our Evleen is fresh from Ireland. She’s the sister of young Patrick, who is now heir apparent to my brother-in-law’s estate. Just imagine, he was hidden away in Ireland all this time. Aren’t we lucky we found him!
”
She turned fond eyes on Evleen.
“
And of course his darling sister.
”

Evleen almost laughed aloud. What could be more insincere than Lydia attempting to show her delight that her husband was no longer the heir? She wondered what Lydia was planning. It appeared she wanted to pawn Evleen off on this odious man, but how could that be? Lord Corneale was obviously a first son, apparently rich as Croesus. Surely Lydia would want to snare him for one of her daughters. The answer was obvious. First son or no, this man with the lascivious smile was just too odious.

“
Would you care to dance, Miss O’Fallon?
”
asked Lord Corneale.

“
Why, of course, I would be delighted.
”
Such hypocrisy. She would rather be in Ireland digging potatoes than dance with this man.

Soon they were on the dance floor, she reluctantly on Lord Corneale’s arm. He danced tolerably well, she’d give him that, but up close he had a musty smell about him, rather like an old tomb. She could hardly wait until the dance was over. When it was, she was starting off the dance floor when he quickly asked,
“
Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Miss O’Fallon?
”

By the Saints, no
.
“
Why, I
...”
Hmm, what could she say? As she searched for a suitable excuse, she lifted her fan to rest upon her right cheek.

His eyes lit.
“
Very good.
”
Before she could think what to do, he took her arm and started to guide her from the dance floor.

She protested,
“
Lord Corneale, I didn’t mean
...”
but he didn’t seem to hear.

“
Nothing like a stroll in the moonlight,
”
he stated with great enthusiasm, and led her out the side doors to a balcony, where a wide expanse of formal garden lay below.

She was in for it now, she decided. Might as well go along and be polite, although how he could have thought she wanted to step outside with him, she would never know.

They walked down a flight of stone steps to the garden below, started their stroll down a path barely lit by moonlight.
“
This is my favorite time of year for a garden,
”
he remarked.
“
The daffodils and snap-dragons are magnificent, would you not agree, Miss O’Fallon?
”

“
I can hardly see them in the dark,
”
she answered bluntly. She was growing leery. As they strolled along, his breathing came faster and faster. Could it be his excitement over daffodils and snap-dragons? Ha! She thought not. They passed a fountain, beyond which the path wound into a patch of darkness surrounded by high shrubbery. At the darkest spot, he halted. With a grunt, his arms went tight around her and pulled her close. Before she could utter a word, his wet, slimy lips pressed hard against hers. Ugh! She pounded his shoulders with her fist but to no avail. She was suffocating. At last, desperate for breath, she shoved at him hard and managed to back away from him.

“
Just what were you doing?
”
she demanded in a shaking whisper.

“
Why, kissing you, my dear,
”
he answered equitably,
“
just as you wanted me to.
”

“
I wanted you to?
”
she asked, dumbfounded.
“
Just how did you decide that?
”

“
You said it with your fan, my sweet.
”
He reached for her again.
“
Give me credit for knowing the signals.
”

His lips were about to descend upon hers again, but she managed to break from his grasp and duck away.
“
You are mistaken, sir,
”
she gasped. Wanting only to remove herself as far as possible from this disgusting man, she started down the path but halted when she heard a tittering, followed by hastily retreating footsteps.

Had they been seen and overheard?

She could have wept with dismay. Naive though she was concerning the rules of the ton, she strongly suspected that getting caught kissing a strange man in the dark corner of a garden constituted a major infraction. Even ignorance of the waltz would be a minor transgression in comparison. She shuddered to think what would happen if this got back to Lydia.

As she started back along the path, she reflected upon what a horrible night this had been, beginning early when she discovered not knowing how to waltz was akin to social suicide. Then she had insulted Lord Thomas who would probably never speak to her again. Then her ignorance of the language of the fan had led her to signal the wrong message to Lord Corneale. All unknowingly, of course, but who would believe her? She doubted any of these stiff-rumped members of the Polite World would give her the benefit of the doubt.

And then the ultimate disaster
—
she and Lord Corneale had been discovered. She could only pray that whoever had seen them would not spread the news.

Sick with worry, Evleen reentered the ballroom. She remembered the fan, still clutch in her hand.
Fan language indeed
, she thought with deep irony. Resisting an urge to toss the lace-and-ivory root of her problems in the nearest waste receptacle, she wondered if there was a fan message for
please, God, get me out of here. Let me go home to Ireland, and soon
.

Ch
a
pter 14

Lydia knew.

They all did. At the end of the evening, Evleen sensed Lydia’s displeasure as they climbed into the carriage. She could tell from the thin, tightened line of Lydia’s lips and the way her sharp nose kept twitching. Charlotte and Bettina had tiny smirks on their faces and kept casting Evleen furtive little glances. Amanda kept her eyes averted, as if she couldn’t bear to watch the unpleasant scene that was sure to come.