Westgate Manor

Chapter 6

A/N -So sorry it's been a while since the last post! I hope there are still readers out there. This story will be going up more slowly than Cimmerian Shade because I'm still in the writing process with this, and Cim Shade is completed...I'm just editing that one before I post. Anyway, hope you like the chap! :) Pleaseeeeeee comment, vote or fan if you like!

Abigail couldn’t help but tug, once again, at the itchy lace collar that would surely leave a rash on her neck come morning. After smiling, and nodding uncomfortably at a gentleman who gave her the once over before raising a brow and high-tailing it to the other side of the room, she couldn’t help but wish that she could just disappear. Just for one second. Was that too much to ask?

All of her happiness in coming to the party dissipated in a flash when Iona burst into her room, insisting she wear the most hideous gown she’d ever laid eyes on. It was definitely out-of-date, lace was literally everywhere. It bunched up at her wrists, and was so thick at the collar that it seemed to be holding up her neck. To make matters worse the gown was not her color; gold, was not her color.

Her flaming red hair and bright-gold satin gown made her stand out in the whole room and she wondered if Iona had done this to her on purpose. After all, the gown she’d originally laid out was beautiful. But no…she couldn’t allow herself to think that way about her cousin. She was family, and well…if you couldn’t count on your family, then who could you count on?

“What are you doing against this wall, dear? You should go socialize, make some friends. You know, I accepted the invite for you, don’t you?”

A serene smile plastered on her face, she turned towards her aunt. “I will aunt…I was just about to…mingle,” she lied.

Beatrice nodded, satisfied. “You shan’t leave without dancing with one of these fine gentlemen. Mark my words,” she said smiling, and took herself off.

There wasn’t a way on earth that any man present would ask her to dance…not looking as she did. After catching her aunt’s eye, and seeing her nod encouragingly at her, she pushed herself away from the wall and forced her feet to move.

It felt as if a sack of bricks were tied to each leg; the urge to cower behind the crowd and melt into the wall was so strong. Her only hope was to make it to the wall on the other side of the room. At least then her aunt would see that she was moving around.

She tried to push her way through the many ladies and gentleman standing in the center of the ballroom, all the while, trying even harder to ignore some of the snickers coming her way from the ladies, and the amusement emanating from the men.

“I look like a fool,” she muttered.

To her dismay, it was announced that the music was to start, and though she tried to make a hasty retreat from the dance floor, she found it nearly impossible to make her way to her savior; the wall.

“Excuse me,” she called out, but to no avail.

“If those without a partner could please, leave the dance floor, we could start the music,” a deep voice called out.

All eyes fell upon her, and she knew, in that moment…that had she been wearing a red gown, her face would certainly match it.

“Miss, do you have a partner?”

Abigail looked up at the slightly overweight middle-aged man standing next to her. Impatience was set in his features, his annoyance palpable. When Abigail glanced at his partner it became extremely clear as to why. He was anxious to dance with his partner. She was a brunette-haired beauty; a fact which made Abigail even more self-conscious and blatantly aware that she should have never come to the party to begin with.