Waltzing with the Wallflower(14)

Cordelia glanced back at the girl in front of her. The debutante had turned away and was wiping at her eyes, sobbing silently. Cordelia took the seat next to her, offered her a handkerchief from her reticule, and then took her by the hand. With a gentle squeeze and an encouraging smile, Cordelia gave a light toss of her head to indicate they would enter together.

The girl’s deep brown eyes widened in fear. Cordelia smiled again and nodded her head. “It will be fine,” she whispered and coaxed her to follow in spite of her reticence.

As they rounded the corner into the main room of the salon, the conversation abruptly ceased. All the eyes in the room fell upon Cordelia and her companion.

“Good evening, ladies,” Cordelia said. She widened her smile more than usual and met each of the ladies’ gazes in turn. “I have the most wonderful thing to show you.” Her exuberance surprised even her. “This gown! Have you ever seen anything like it?”

The girl who stood beside her stared at her with a look of absolute horror. A surge of concern shot through Cordelia, and she rushed to correct the girl’s assumption. “This is a gown straight out of the most recent designs in Madame Lanchester’s fashion plates! I’ve seen only one like it since I returned from Paris. I cannot believe my good fortune to see another.” A collective gasp seemed to suck the breathable air from the room.

Naturally they would believe her. It was common knowledge Cordelia had served a dressmaker in Paris to fulfill her indentured contract. If anyone would know about fashion straight from France, it would be she. The fact that everything she said was true was immaterial. They would believe her regardless.

Stepping back, Cordelia made room for the other ladies to swarm the poor girl, all talking at once, asking her about her dress and how she came into possession of such a marvelous treasure. Through the crush, she caught sight of the large brown eyes once more, glowing with thanks but thoroughly overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

“If you will excuse us, ladies,” Cordelia interrupted, casually stepping back into the fray. “I believe Lord Maddox will be upset with me if I fail to introduce him to this lady this evening. He does love new fashions.” Taking the girl’s hand once more, she rescued her for the second time, and led her back through the salon to the ballroom in search of Lord Maddox.

As they stepped out into the great hall, Cordelia caught Maddox’s eye and gestured for him to join them. “Thank you,” the girl’s soft voice offered.

“Think nothing of it, dear girl. Lord Maddox does indeed love new fashion.” Her preference for not drawing attention to herself surged back to the surface, and Cordelia drew a deep breath, feeling her legs grow weak with the realization of her performance in front of the gossiping debutantes. Her eyes scanned the room for the perfect place to which she could beat a hasty retreat.

“Good evening, Lady Cordelia,” came the viscount’s rich voice. “And who is this vision?” He gestured towards the debutante waiting beside her.

“My lord, this is…” she paused, suddenly realizing she had not asked the girl her name. She glanced to her companion for help.

“Cristina,” she whispered.

“May I present Lady Cristina, my lord?”

“Lady Cristina.” Maddox smiled and bowed, hovering above the girl’s hand with a light kiss. When he rose he asked, “Care to dance, my lady?”

Cristina’s brown eyes lit with joy, and Cordelia gazed after them for a moment as they sauntered onto the dance floor. Then she looked once again for shelter from the marauding eyes, hoping for a few moments to herself.

The gaggle of debutantes in the ladies’ salon had returned to the ballroom, and with secret pleasure, Cordelia recognized their envious glances glowering after Lady Cristina as she danced with the desirable Lord Maddox.

There was not a free corner in the room. No haven of any sort to be had in the great hall. And as luck would have it, Sir Bryan was scouring the room for her once more. She knew Hawthorne had told her never to chance it, but the balcony grew more and more inviting with each step nearer the aromatic would-be suitor took.

And then the waltz began playing again.





Chapter Seven





The Rumor





Ambrose had done his best to ignore Cordelia, subsequently ignoring his growing feelings about her all together. Yet he saved every waltz for her. His gaze quickly found the lady, as it so often did. It seemed his body, his eyes, … everything in him was fine-tuned to pick up her laugh or her presence without him knowing it.

As he slowly made his way to where she stood with her back facing him, he heard whispers of how she had single-handedly saved a young debutante. It seemed the closer he got, the more split the room was. Several other debutantes, the wallflowers, thought Cordelia to be the sweetest lady to grace the ton in years. Others, though their respect for Cordelia was still intact, thought she should have stayed out of the ordeal altogether.

Then he glimpsed the girl in question dancing with his brother, a gleeful smile on her face. Immediately he realized what side he was on, for Cordelia saved the girl from the vicious tales that would have ruined the girl’s first Season. Her dress wasn’t of the same fashion the other ladies wore, but her face was beautiful, especially when paired with the smile she now wore.

Cordelia had stepped outside of her insecurity. She sacrificed herself in order to appease another young girl. It was a rare thing to behold in his social circle, and he found the feelings he had carefully pushed aside flared to life all at once, nearly choking him as he reached her side.