Free Miss Lindel's Love by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

been hard-pressed to recognize again any of the men whose hands she touched in passing. But it was so exhilarating that she laughed merrily as she spun around, hands linked with her partner.
    As she passed to another pair of hands, he missed his timing and she looked up into Lord Danesby’s face. “Sir,” she said with a smile. But, driven by the tune, there was no time for more.
    After the next dance, her young partner returned her, breathless and laughing, to Mrs. Paladin, who had another cavalier waiting. This one was older, the next blonder, the next taller, the next...
    “I must beg to be excused for a moment, ma’am,” Maris said.
    “Nonsense. As young as you are you should be able to dance the night through without a rest.” Mrs. Paladin seemed to be speaking as much, or more, to the next gentleman than to Maris. “Sir Rigby was just telling me how much he admires your complexion.”
    “If the young lady is tired, I shall be happy to fetch her some refreshment,” said the young man, rather bulky through the middle though his coat was well designed. Between the tips of his highly starched collar points, his round face wore a high-spirited smile. His reddish hair bore a line of perspiration along the hairline and he seemed to be breathing hard. She rather thought that he would rather slip off for a quiet glass of something cool than hurtle through the rigors of another reel.
    “You’re very kind, sir. I would bless you for a glass of lemonade.” He smiled in thanks as he bowed, turning to do her bidding.
    Mrs. Paladin looked like Hera in a temper, magnificent and frightening. Her tones were soft but biting. “Are you mad? Sir Rigby has a thousand a year, and very likely more. Plus, he is the only son, since his brother died in the Peninsula, and his mother cannot wait for grandchildren. You’ll never marry if you whistle such prospects down the wind.”
    “Need I ask to see a man’s accounts before I decide to dance with him?” Maris’s color brightened.
    “Besides, my underlace is torn. I shall return in a few moments.”
    “Oh, my dear girl, I had no notion. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. Shall I come with you?”
    “No. I’m sure the maids where we left our cloaks can help me. You stay here and accept Sir Rigby’s refreshments.”
    As she stood patiently holding up her gown while a maid fixed the lace , Maris felt guilty that she’d spoken so sharply to Mrs. Paladin. After all, it was her duty to guide her through the labyrinth of the social niceties. In the absence of her own mother, she should show Mrs. Paladin the same courtesy, if she couldn’t manage the same affection.
    She emerged, repaired, and determined to apologize to Mrs. Paladin. Trying out words in her mind, she was not watching where she was going. She stepped on a blue satin train whisking along the floor. The woman it belonged to gasped and stopped, perforce. Her two friends walking beside her also paused.
    “Clumsy child,” Mrs. Armitage said. Then she checked and peered at Maris. “Miss... Miss Lindel, is it not?
    “ Yes , ma’am,” Maris said, dipping a hasty curtsy.
    Mrs. Armitage’s color was higher than it had been at the cathedral. Her gown was excessively low-cut to make a better display of the stunningly beautiful necklace reposing upon her white bosom. Impossible not to mention it, after her apology. Mrs. Armitage brushed her fingers across it, setting the articulated clusters to swaying. “I’m sure there are many such trifles in your future.”
    “I’ve no such ambition.”
    “You seek a simple golden band, no doubt.” Her friends, both well-dressed and bejeweled, tittered behind their hands,
    Mrs. Armitage’s hostility had no basis, so far as Maris knew. Surely, she’d apologized enough for tripping over her train. She frowned. “Every woman must hope to marry. If you’ll pardon me, ma’am, I should find my party.”
    As she walked away, with the obscure feeling that she should run, she