An Innocent Affair

XXVII

"I miss your voice because it is a symphony; your scent because it is a treasure; your smile because it is a jewel; your hug because it is a masterpiece; and your kiss because it is a miracle." Matshona Dhliwayo

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XXVII.

Cressie watched as a servant tied the ribbon of Zara's dance card around her wrist. Zara was positively elated as the next step was to be introduced to the hosts of the evening.

Cressie knew them immediately. Of course, she had expected to see one of them, any of them, as this was an Ashwood ball. She had expected the Duke and Duchess, but the duke's brother was as fine a host as any. And he and his wife certainly would not remember meeting Cressie five years earlier.

She felt relieved if anything. The very idea of attending an Ashwood ball had tied her stomach up in knots, and she felt all sort of apprehension and dread at faltering, at breaking behind the perfectly disguised mask of indifference she had applied to her face and body all these years.

Cressie thought that if anyone were to know her, it would have been the duchess. But thankfully, she was not here. She took a breath and refocussed her attention on Zara, and gently guided her towards Lord Jack Beresford and his wife, Lady Claire.

Zara curtseyed deeply, and Cressie followed suit. Jack smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Cressie could have sworn that Claire appeared a little out of place. Her charade was not as well-practised as Cressie's was.

"You are both very welcome to the Ashwood ball, Mrs Delaney, Miss Delaney," Jack greeted them formally. "Have you travelled far to be here in attendance this Season?"

Zara looked to Cressie for approval, and Cressie nodded encouragingly for her niece to answer.

"My aunt and I have travelled from my uncle's home in Yorkshire, my lord," Zara replied, nerves lacing her voice.

"My, what a journey," remarked Claire, sounding genuinely shocked. "I certainly hope you find your happiness in London, Miss Delaney. I must say, your gown is absolutely lovely. Is it by Belle Desjardins?" she inquired.

"Yes!" gushed Zara. "Oh, thank you, my lady," she added quickly, realising she had not accepted the compliment politely. "I am a great admirer of Miss Desjardins' craft."

"As am I," replied Claire with a wry smile. "I do have a rather precious attachment to her as my sister-in-law. She is married to my brother, Mr Peter Denham."

Denham. Crack.

Cressie flinched. Visibly, uncontrollably, and rather dramatically.

Zara could not continue her conversation with Claire as her attention quickly reverted to Cressie. She latched onto Cressie's arm as she gasped. "Oh, are you alright, Cressie?"

"Cressie?" Claire repeated in a questioning tone, her brows furrowing in confusion as her blue eyes began to inspect Cressie's face.

Cressie averted her eyes, instead offering her niece a look of assurance. "Yes, yes, I just lost my footing for a moment. Perhaps I ought to sit down."

"Alright." Zara nodded.

At that moment, the next invited guests had arrived and were being announced, and Cressie and Zara were being ushered along by a servant. Cressie was thankful to be away before Claire connected her name to the distant memory that seemed to be teasing her mind in that moment.

"Shall we find a chair?" Zara turned her head to look around the ballroom to find a vacant seat.

"No." Cressie shook her head. "It must have been a momentary lapse. I am quite fine. We ought to begin your evening. I am certain the gentlemen here will be eager to gain your favour and a place on your dance card." Cressie, herself, took a breath. It was fine. She was fine. Her mask was intact, and she had a job to do.