Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Five

I don't know why I told Violet I'd accompany them to these balls. Back home, we rarely had soirees as grand as the one's mother told me about from her time living in London, and even when we did have them, I was always able to hide away in my chambers when things got overwhelming or find quiet solitude in the library, where no one ever seemed to wander.

    The dress Violet had made for me is matching with her and Eloise, a classic empire waist gown with sequins sewn on intricately. They were both in signature Bridgerton colours, pastels that made their dark hair stand out, while mine was black, the sequins and lace making it appear more stunning than anything else I've worn these past few months.

    Eloise and I are standing on either side of Violet as we enter the grand ballroom. Large floral arrangements are displayed as couples dance around them, the string quartet playing a melodic tune. The sheer grandness of it all is overwhelming.

    "Stop fussing with your dress," Violet warns Eloise, who'd been fidgeting with the tight bodice since her dress was put on her. "You look lovely."

    "I look like a prize calf trussed up for auction," Eloise corrects her rather dramatically. Her mother was right. She did look lovely, though I know hearing that did not make any of this easier for the girl.

    Benedict moos, in response to his sister's declaration, causing me to giggle as all our gazes moved over to him. Violet seems anything but amused as she begins talking about Daphne's first official ball and how even she was nervous about attending it. But her words are drowned out as Benedict grins back at me, a cheeky smirk that makes my stomach flutter.

    He hasn't smiled at me like that since we were kids.

     He only looks away when a man begins walking over, eyes set on my fidgeting friend. "Come, sister. The cakes at these occasions are surprisingly good."

    Eloise takes her brother's arm with zero hesitation, allowing him to whisk her away before the awkward-looking boy could step any closer. "Uh... uh..." He stammers, sighing with defeat. Before he can open his mouth to ask me for a dance, Anthony loops his arm through mine, his glare causing the boy to scurry away.

    "It truly is a sparse crop."

     "Indeed," I mutter, eyes dancing across the floor.

      "Oh, I am sure there is someone here who will charm you," Anthony's mother reassures, "After all, this is the season the viscount intends to find a wife." She raises her voice as all eyes shift over to us. Even the women standing alongside other men seem interested, their mothers swooping over to guide them our way.

    "You honestly just did that?"

     "She did," I grimaced at him, letting go of his arm as I shot him an apologetic grin. "I'm feeling rather parched suddenly. I think I shall go and find a drink."

    Anthony shoots me a panicked expression as mothers and their daughters corner him. But I merely shrug in response; the last thing I need is these girls thinking I, too, am trying to court Anthony Bridgerton. They will all hate me.

    Eloise is nowhere to be seen as I grab a flute of champagne from a maid walking past, smiling at her politely as I grab it off her tray, and I take note of the trio of women with fiery red hair that could only be related to Penelope, their youngest daughter absent as well. They must have found a decent enough space to hide away from all this.

    Before I can even begin to search for them, an older woman begins to approach me; her dress is a deep plum shade, her arm holding a cane. "You must be Miss Campbell." She smiles at me knowingly. "You are the spitting image of your mother. I was so sorry to hear of her passing. I'm Lady Danbury. I knew your mom when she was young."