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The next day flew by as if on wings. Harriet and Frances were asked to do all manner of things in preparation for the ball. They directed the staff where to set the large vases of flowers they’d arranged along with other decorations around the ballroom. There were last-minute decisions to make about the light supper and desserts that would be served as well as where to place the tables that would hold the refreshments.
Despite being busy, Harriet’s thoughts were frequently filled with Joseph. She couldn’t believe how bold she had been. Their flirtatious touching during dinner had been like a forbidden delight. Once they started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
To think that Joseph had read her mind and joined her in the library was even more of a thrill. In her mind, that proved how taken they were with one another.
Those moments in his arms and the way he had kissed her were something she would never forget.
But she still couldn’t see how this would end well. And there was no doubt it would come to an end.
The thought was discouraging, but she did her best to push it aside. The time for endings would come too quickly. But today was for celebration.
Soon, the time came for them to dress for the ball.
Frances was giddy with excitement, seeming to have set aside her displeasure with Harriet. Her enthusiasm only made Harriet more determined to do everything in her power not to ruin the evening for her.
Sally helped Frances prepare first before coming to Harriet’s room.
“Miss Melbourne is so excited,” Sally reported. “She looks especially lovely this evening if I do say so myself.”
Harriet laughed. “I’m certain you had a hand in it. I look forward to seeing her gown.”
“Yours is beautiful as well,” she said as she fingered the lace insert that would cover Harriet’s scars.
Sally had commented on them the first time she’d helped Harriet undress.
“How terrible, my lady. What happened?” the maid had asked as she stared in dismay at Harriet’s chest.
Harriet had run a finger along them as memories filled her of that terrible night. “A result of hot tea.”
She was tempted to explain just how the tea had landed on her chest but had learned not to. Mentioning her stepfather’s involvement only seemed to give him more power over her life. That was something she refused to do.
He was gone and would never hurt her or her mother again. That was all that mattered.
Still, she shivered as memories flooded her. Would the events that had followed ever fade from her mind?
Sally’s lips firmed as she looked between Harriet’s scarred chest and the ballgown. “Let us get you dressed,” was all she said.
A short time later, after Sally had secured the dress, and Harriet sat before the dressing table while the maid arranged her hair, Harriet studied the neckline of her gown, wishing it were different. Wishing she were different.
She closed her eyes and gave herself a mental shake. Nothing could be done to change what had happened.
Unfortunately, little could be done to change her future either. Joseph would be disgusted if he ever saw her scars. But if he learned what she had done afterward, he would truly be repulsed.
Though her mother continually insisted that no one needed to know, and they could keep pretending nothing had occurred, Harriet couldn’t imagine marrying and keeping her secret. What sort of marriage would she have if it wasn’t founded on trust?
“You look beautiful, my lady.”
“Thank you.” The gown was one she’d worn before but liked. It was an emerald green with a pleated ruffle of the same color around the hem. Gold cord was sewn into swirls along the bodice. The bustle fell in layers in a flattering cascade down the back. She was careful not to dwell on the high neck in the mirror, reminding herself that she’d much rather cover the scars than show them to the world and be viewed with pity and disgust.
Sally twisted strands of her hair before drawing it back into a chignon high on her head then winding a green ribbon through it that matched her gown. Next, she tucked tiny white flowers in the chignon.
A knock sounded at her door, and the maid secured her hair then stepped away to open it.
“Are you ready, Harriet?” Frances asked as she swept into the room. “Oh, you look lovely.”
“So do you.” Harriet rose from the bench to face her friend. “What a beautiful gown.”
Frances smoothed her white-gloved hands along the front of the rose gown with cream lace trim. Rows and rows of ruffles made her look like a princess, as did the necklace she wore.
“That’s gorgeous,” Harriet said as she drew closer to admire the oval ruby surrounded by small diamonds.
“Thank you.” She glanced down at it with a smile. “A gift from my parents.”
“How special.”
Frances studied Harriet’s gown, her brow puckering. “Are you certain you don’t want to try a gown with a lower neckline? I’m sure I have one you can borrow.”
Harriet’s heart ached at the question. She knew her friends noticed that she always wore modest gowns, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain why. Even mentioning the scars brought forth memories that threatened to swamp her with fear.
“Not this evening.” She managed a smile.
One look at Frances’ expression suggested she’d been less than convincing.
Unwilling to talk about it, especially now, Harriet looped her arm through Frances’ and turned toward the door. “Do you think the guests have started to arrive?”
The neighboring gentry and other affluent people from nearby towns had been invited to the ball. The moment they stepped out of the room, the sounds of the small orchestra warming up could be heard, echoing through the house.
“They should begin arriving soon. Father asked us to join him and Mother in the reception room beforehand.”
Relieved she’d turned away Frances’ attention from her gown, Harriet smiled. “Who do you hope to dance with first?” she whispered as they walked down the stairs.
“As long as I’m asked to dance, it doesn’t matter,” she replied with a giggle. “The gentlemen here have all been very kind, don’t you think?”
“Yes, they have.” But there was only one man with whom Harriet wanted to dance—Joseph. Doing so with anyone else would fade in comparison.
At times like this, Harriet had to wonder if Frances truly liked Joseph or if she simply liked the idea of having a secret tendre for someone. She hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him. While her shyness was obviously difficult to manage, wouldn’t her desire to become better acquainted overcome it?
Harriet pushed away her doubt. That wasn’t for her to decide. Who was Harriet to know how Frances felt when she would be loath to explain her own feelings?
“There you are.” Mr. Melbourne greeted them with a broad smile as they entered the small reception room a short distance from the ballroom. “Don’t you both look lovely?”
Mr. Melbourne’s affection toward Frances made Harriet miss her own father. She hoped Frances knew how lucky she was. Both her parents were kind.
“Very lovely,” Mrs. Melbourne said with a nod of approval.
“Thank you.” Frances touched her necklace. “And thank you again for the beautiful necklace.”
Mr. Melbourne chuckled, sharing a tender look with his wife. “Our pleasure.”
“Your gown is so elegant,” Harriet said to Mrs. Melbourne. The violet silk fit her figure perfectly, and the ecru fringe moved with every step she took. A daring neckline showed her diamond pendant to full advantage. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re too kind, Lady Harriet,” Mrs. Melbourne said.
“Thank you again for inviting me.” Harriet looked between them. “It has been a wonderful week.”
“We’re pleased you could come and keep Frances company.” Mrs. Melbourne touched Harriet’s arm. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.”
Mr. Melbourne walked to the sideboard where crystal decanters gleamed in the candlelight. He poured three glasses of sherry and brought them over, handing the first to his wife before giving one to Frances and Harriet. “Are you young ladies ready to dance away the night?”
“Most definitely,” Frances said as she took her glass then looked at Harriet.
“I look forward to it.” Harriet didn’t mention that having more than a few dances would be a unique experience. She tended to spend more time visiting with her friends at balls rather than dancing, much like Frances.
Martin and his wife, Catherine, entered the room. Her gown was a golden beige satin which looked striking against his black evening attire.
“Apologies for our delay.” Martin tugged on his tie as if it were too tight. “I can never get these things straight.”
“It looks perfect, dear,” Mrs. Melbourne said as she studied his appearance. “You both look wonderful.”
Mr. Melbourne returned to the sideboard to pour one more glass of sherry and a finger of whiskey into two glasses and handed them to Martin and Catherine before lifting his glass. “The guests will arrive soon, but I thought we should take a moment to toast the success of the week. I have no doubt our guests had a wonderful time, thanks to all of you.”
“Here, here.” They lifted their glasses and drank.
“It has been enjoyable,” Martin agreed. “Everyone seems to have gotten along well.”
Reverend Henderson came immediately to Harriet’s mind. He was the only one who had made her uncomfortable. She wished she knew why he’d been invited. Did she dare ask?
“Will Reverend Henderson be attending the ball this evening?” she asked instead.
“I believe so.” Mrs. Melbourne raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”
“I was hoping he wouldn’t,” Frances said before Harriet could respond. “Did you see the way he glowered if anyone appeared to be enjoying themselves too much?”
Harriet hadn’t noticed that but was pleased Frances had.
“Now, dear,” Mrs. Melbourne began, “he’s a good friend of your aunt and uncle’s.”
That explained his presence. Now that Mrs. Melbourne had mentioned it, Harriet remembered seeing him speaking with the couple several times.
“Apparently, he doesn’t particularly care for Viscount Garland,” Frances continued.
Mr. Melbourne frowned. “He shared his concerns about Garland with me, though I must say I don’t agree.”
“You found the viscount to be likeable, didn’t you, Papa?” Frances asked, a hint of a blush rising in her cheeks.
The question squeezed Harriet’s heart—a blatant reminder that whether Harriet chose to believe it or not, her friend thought she cared for Joseph, too.
“I do. I found his business proposal of great interest and look forward to learning more about his plans. Of course, Henderson wasn’t happy to hear that.”
“That’s because if you invest in Garland’s plan, you might not donate to Henderson’s church,” Martin said dryly before taking another sip of his drink.
“I’m surprised the reverend requests donations since he doesn’t believe in assisting the poor.” Harriet knew none of this was her business, but she couldn’t resist throwing more kindling on the fire if it meant discrediting the man.
She hadn’t cared for him before Joseph told her those details about him. The information Joseph had shared made her like him even less.
Then there was the disrespectful way he’d spoken to Joseph the previous evening. He’d been horrible. How could someone who considered themselves a true Christian act that way?
“He doesn’t?” Mrs. Melbourne frowned at Harriet then looked at her husband. “Is that true?”
“He believes giving money to those less fortunate interferes with allowing the fittest to succeed,” Martin said when his father hesitated. “I heard far too much about it when I happened to ride alongside him the other morning. Since then, I’ve done my best to avoid him.”
“I hope you haven’t given him any money, dear,” Mrs. Melbourne said with a pointed look at her husband.
“I haven’t as of yet. Odd, but he didn’t mention that belief to me.” He looked disgusted. “He probably realizes it wouldn’t please me. Philanthropy is a responsibility of those blessed with wealth in my opinion.”
Harriet managed to keep from smiling. Anything she could do to help Joseph, even indirectly, was welcome.
“Enough of this talk,” Mrs. Melbourne declared and lifted her glass. “Let us finish our drinks and prepare to receive our guests.”
After they did as she bid, the family formed a receiving line just outside the ballroom.
Mrs. Melbourne touched Harriet’s arm. “Harriet, dear, will you check the ballroom one more time to make certain all is in order? If anything needs adjusting, feel free to take care of it or alert one of the staff.”
“Of course.” Harriet continued into the ballroom, pleased that Mrs. Melbourne trusted her enough to ask.
Several of the other house party guests were already visiting inside, but she didn’t see Joseph. Wanting to take Mrs. Melbourne’s request seriously, Harriet walked slowly around the perimeter of the room. Other than adjusting a flower vase or two, everything looked perfect.
The musicians had completed their warmup and awaited the time to begin playing in earnest. The refreshment room looked inviting with bottles of both champagne and pitchers of lemonade ready to be served. Platters of pale pink iced cakes were displayed, though the cold meats and cheeses would be brought in later.
She walked to the ballroom entrance and waited to catch Mrs. Melbourne’s attention then nodded to advise her all was well.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Melbourne mouthed.
The sound of voices coming from the entrance hall suggested guests were arriving.
Nerves danced in Harriet’s stomach as she returned to the ballroom, undecided whether to join some of the other guests to visit or take a few minutes to herself while she could.
“Good evening, Harriet.”
She turned to see Joseph walking toward her, looking especially handsome in his black evening attire. “Joseph. Don’t you look wonderful this evening?”
He grinned. “I couldn’t possibly look as wonderful as you. That color is lovely on you.”
“Thank you.” She waited for his gaze to take in her neckline, so different than what all the other ladies would be wearing this evening. How unfortunate that the current fashion was a low décolletage. It only made her feel more out of place.
To her pleasure, his attention held on her face rather than her gown. “I do hope you’ll save a dance.” He leaned close. “Or two for me.”
“I should like that very much.” Yet the thought of Frances came to mind. “Is there a chance you might ask Frances for a dance as well? I know she’d appreciate it.”
The tender look in Joseph’s eyes made her heart turn over in her chest. “If it pleases you, I’ll dance with Reverend Henderson.”
Harriet laughed, nearly snorting with amusement. “It wouldn’t, so you may take that off your mind.”
“Thank goodness.” He chuckled. “But yes, I would be pleased to dance with her. I suppose I should attempt to dance with all of the unattached ladies from the house party.”
“You are a good man, Joseph.” Such a good man. That only made her appreciate him more. If only—
But no. She refused to think of such things this evening. Instead, she would focus on enjoying herself. This might be the last time she’d have the chance to spend time with him, even if it was with nearly a hundred guests.
Soon the ballroom filled with all manner of people, from the young to the old to those wearing the height of fashion and those wearing outdated clothes. But everyone seemed excited and ready to enjoy themselves.
She and Joseph became separated as they greeted the new arrivals and helped to make them feel welcome. The orchestra started to play, and the guests began to dance.
Harriet breathed a sigh of relief as the Melbournes at last entered the ballroom. A few minutes later, Frances joined her, waving a gloved hand before her face.
“I’m already warm and the ball has only just begun.” Still, her smile was bright as she glanced around the room. “Mother is so grateful you are here to help.”
“I’m happy to,” Harriet said. It felt good to be useful, especially since she had failed to help Frances with Joseph.
Before they could speak further, Sinclair approached with a smile, looking quite debonair in his evening attire.
“The two of you look lovely this evening,” he said as he glanced between them.
“Thank you,” Harriet said, realizing she might be answering for them both. Frances’ cheeks had pinkened and her gaze shifted between Sinclair and the floor, suggesting her shyness had taken hold once again.
But to Harriet’s surprise, Frances managed to meet his gaze and smile. “Thank you, Thomas.”
Harriet hid her surprise that they were on a first-name basis. Frances’ reply was barely audible, but she’d done it. Harriet couldn’t have been prouder.
Sinclair dipped his head in acknowledgement. “May I have the honor of a dance, Miss Melbourne?”
Frances stilled, her lips parted as if she were uncertain how to respond. “Of course.”
“Excellent.” Sinclair offered his arm, and Frances took it only to glance back at Harriet over her shoulder with a grin.
Harriet watched them conversing as they walked toward the dance floor with hope rising inside her. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Frances decided her affection was caught by Thomas rather than Joseph?
“What has you smiling?”
She looked to find Joseph standing beside her once again. “Frances actually spoke to Mr. Sinclair. I have hope she’s overcoming some of her shyness.”
“How nice.” He turned to face her. “I’m certain that’s in part thanks to you. May I have the honor of a dance?”
“Absolutely.” As she took his arm, she reminded herself to be careful. It wouldn’t do to allow anyone to see how much she liked Joseph. Not until she’d told Frances how she felt. She should’ve been honest from the start.
Come the morning, she would tell her friend that she cared for Joseph. The plan helped to ease her guilt.
The dance started and all else fell away as they moved in time to the music. It was easy to pretend for a few minutes that they were alone, and that a future was possible.
She caught sight of Frances and Thomas as they turned and was pleased that they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Frances’ smile was proof of that.
Her attention returned to Joseph, her chest tightening at the way his gaze held on her. Was there a way to make what was building between them work? If she explained what had happened two years ago, would he understand?
The realization that she was considering telling him shook her. It was something she’d promised herself to never speak of.
“What is it?” Joseph asked when the dance steps drew them closer together.
“Nothing,” she denied, wishing the temptation hadn’t come to mind. She smiled, determined to enjoy this moment. This was her first dance with Joseph, and she wanted to focus on how wonderful it was.
All too soon, the music ended. After they bowed and curtsied, Joseph took her arm and guided her toward the open French doors that led to the balcony. “I think a breath of fresh air might be in order.”
“Yes, that would be perfect.” The ballroom was warm, but it was the thought of being alone with Joseph even for a few brief minutes that mattered.
They stepped out onto the large balcony which overlooked the grounds and garden below. Lamps illuminated the terrace and garden and cast enough light to see a short distance.
The cool evening air helped ease Harriet’s angst, and she turned to face him.
“I cannot believe this is our last evening here.” He lifted a finger to touch her cheek.
She tipped her head toward his caress. “Nor can I.”
“Harriet, I have to ask.” He pulled a folded paper from his inner pocket, and her heart sank. “Did you write these?”
She hesitated, wishing she could answer honestly. But how could she when she hadn’t told Frances the truth? But neither could she lie to Joseph. “No.”
He frowned, making her wonder if he sensed her unease. It took a moment for her to realize she’d just admitted she knew what he held since she hadn’t asked what it was. Nor had she shown any surprise.
“But you know who did,” he suggested.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes briefly, wishing they weren’t having this conversation now.
“Was it Miss Melbourne?”
Harriet opened her eyes to look at him in surprise. Did she confirm it or keep Frances’ secret? She didn’t want to hurt her friend, but neither did she want to ruin the possibility of a future with Joseph.
It was an impossible choice.
She reached for his empty hand and took it in hers, hoping the right answer would come to her. “Joseph, I—”
“Harriet?”
Harriet looked over to see Frances emerging from the ballroom with Mr. Sinclair directly behind her, her gaze fixed on their connected hands. Harriet quickly released Joseph but knew it was too late. Her friend had already seen their touch.
Frances stared between them, eyes wide with a mix of hurt and surprise. “I don’t understand...”
“Frances, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Harriet began, her heart aching. That much was true. She only hoped her friend didn’t ask what it was that had happened because she couldn’t explain.
Tears filled Frances’ eyes as she backed away. Then with a sob, she spun and ran inside.
