A Beginner's Guide to Scandal by Alivia Fleur

Author:Alivia Fleur [Alivia Fleur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alivia Fleur
Published: 2023-04-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Three months into her first season, Iris had decided that balls were boring. Even after attending only half a dozen, they became a montage of predictable monotony—the dresses, the dance cards, the ogling. The same boring tunes played in the same predictable order. Time had done little to alter her opinion, and even the novelty of an evening’s fancy dress had worn. At least now, by attending as chaperone, she could avoid being lashed into a corset with layers of petticoats, a crinoline, ruffles, and other frippery. Instead, she wore one of her prettier tea gowns that only needed stays and petticoats, made from pink and green silk, and trimmed with venetian lace and beads from Bohemia. She could almost have been sitting down at her desk to work, instead of watching the swirl of the dancefloor.

Iris had agreed to come this evening during a moment of distraction, when her neighbours Elise and Rosanna had begged her to act as chaperone. Rosanna’s mother was too ill with her pregnancy, and Elise’s aunt had offered, but she was never ready on time, complained about everything, and always wanted to leave as soon as the last dance had finished. As the pair of them pleaded, Iris had remembered what it was to be young and to dream of love, and so she had agreed to accompany them.

And, she hoped, an evening out of her study would distract her from the kiss.

The thought of it caught her in odd moments, like a breath of flowers on the spring breeze or a grain of sugar licked from the corner of one’s mouth hours after eating. It had dredged up long pushed down memories and sent stars glittering through her. Damn Hamish. For years she had kept a tight hold on her emotions, and now, one brush of his lips and all the walls she had carefully built crumbled. That one night, so long ago, could have been yesterday.

The earl would never, ever approve of her.

‘Mr Babbage is heading this way,’ muttered Rosanna to Elise. ‘And concealed as a jester. Typical. He is coming to ask me to dance to annoy me; he knows I cannot refuse.’

Iris gave a tired sigh. According to Rosanna’s father, Mr Phineas Babbage, who lived beside the Hempels on the opposite side of Honeysuckle Street, had used some trickery or bribery to secure the corner townhouse, which had the advantage of extra windows. Mr Babbage denied the accusation, and the petty feud had endured for two years. As the only daughter and her father’s favourite, Rosanna had taken on the quarrel with enthusiasm.

Mr Babbage paused before them, then bowed, before extending his hand to Elise. ‘Titania. May I have this dance?’

‘She’s spring.’

‘Pardon?’ Mr Babbage’s head jerked as he looked to Rosanna and frowned, as if noticing her for the first time.

‘Spring. That’s her costume. And I’m autumn. We match, see?’

‘Rosanna, please.’ Elise took Mr Babbage’s hand. ‘I would be delighted to dance.’

‘Traitor,’ Rosanna mumbled to herself as the pair moved onto the dancefloor.

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