“Are you alright, my dear?” a voice asked.
I blinked, feeling myself stumble slightly. A hand caught my forearm, holding me up, but I couldn’t see who it was. My vision was too hazy and bright. It was impossible to focus on anything. The world around me seemed to swim, the colours a dazing blur, and I blinked again, hoping that would make it easier, before taking a deep breath.
Or trying to, at least. I still couldn’t breathe properly. My chest was too tight. It didn’t have enough space because my dress had been laced far too tight, and it was too thick. There were too many layers, which made it much harder. It was cutting off my oxygen, and all for what? To accentuate my waist and bosom? That wasn’t worth passing out in the middle of the ballroom, and I wasn’t even sure if it was working.
Why couldn’t a straighter figure have been in fashion like it was last season? That was so much easier for me. Granted, I despised the style of the dresses and how I looked in them. The high waistline, tight until just below the chest and then flaring out ever so slightly, was strangely uncomfortable. It should have been better. It should have been easier to wear, and I knew that, but I hated it.
It made me look like I was dressed in a potato sack; that was the reason. I looked utterly shapeless, and that was the intention, but I didn’t understand. Still, it didn’t matter what I thought. I wasn’t the one who decided on the fashion of the season; that fell to someone else.
All I could do was be grateful I only had a couple more years before I could marry, and then everything would be easier. Of course, I would still attend the balls, but I wouldn’t be expected to put quite so much effort in. I would still keep up with the trends, obviously; I’d be a fool not to, but I wouldn’t be on the prowl for a husband, so I’d have less people to impress. Fewer people would be staring at me and judging my every move.
My mind seemed to jolt as it caught up with my thoughts. A husband, marriage, a ball? I inhaled slowly, my eyes darting around. I was in another world. A new one, and it didn’t look that scary. Maybe I’d done it. Perhaps I was actually safe.
Excitement slammed into me, tinged with relief, and my knees turned weak. I would have swooned if not for the man peering down at me, his hand still on my forearm. It gave me the support I needed to stay standing, and I was so grateful.
But I’d been silent for too long. He had asked me a question, but I had yet to respond. I forced myself to blink again, pressing my hand to my chest and arranging my features into an innocently startled expression as I looked at the man.
“Oh, my apologies,” I said quickly, my tone coming out more simpering than I’d expected. “I was just a little flustered.”
The man’s expression became even more concerned, his eyebrows drawing together. For some reason, that made me feel better. If I were in a world where someone was that worried about me, it couldn’t be that bad of a place, I decided. It was unlikely to be, anyway. I barely knew the man, who was at least ten years my senior, but he still seemed to care. That was promising.
“Ah,” he replied. “Shall I fetch a doctor?”
Anxiety jumped in my heart. He couldn’t do that. How would I explain the cause of my dizzy spell?
“Thank you,” I said, gently laying a grateful hand on his arm, “but that shouldn’t be necessary.”
His jacket was softer than I expected. It didn’t appear particularly silken, but it felt lovely. I couldn’t help but admire the style too. It was unusual and old-fashioned. The black jacket was shorter at the front, but I could see the long tail from where I stood, which took me by surprise.
I’d never seen a tailcoat before. It was the kind of thing that had gone out of fashion years ago, and it only really existed in movies anymore, but that was wrong, I decided. It looked wonderful, and I longed for it to become a more frequent option once more. It was so elegant, especially with the double-breasted waistcoat the man wore below.
He looked exceedingly handsome, I noticed. The crimson brocade waistcoat was a fantastic choice for him. It looked classic and suited him so well, even if it was a bold choice, but perhaps it was intentional. Maybe he wanted to stand out from the crowd.
My eyes moved beyond him, scanning the room quickly and taking in the rest of the people. Somehow, I realised slowly, his clothing choices did not seem particularly unusual. He had not made any daring decisions with his outfit. Every man around me was wearing old-fashioned clothing, but it was the women that caught my eye.
Elaborate ball gowns filled the room, their colours bright. People dressed in shades of pink, red, green and blue danced before me, and I tried not to stare, but it was nearly impossible not to admire their choices. The dresses were just so beautiful, and the fabrics so varied. Some were patterned, others filled with intricate embroidery, and a few plain, but that didn’t make them any less eye-catching. If anything, it seemed to add to their appeal.
My eyes found one of the unembellished gowns, and desire washed over me. I longed to own the peach dress the woman was wearing. The colour was so elegant, but it was the sleeves that caught my attention. They were tight to just below her elbows before turning into layered ruffles, trimmed in lace, and many women had a similar design, but the simple material seemed to elevate them, making them even more delicate.
“Are you sure?” the man asked, capturing my focus once more.
“I am, but thank you,” I replied, cautious not to let my tone slip from the one I’d been practising.
He hesitated, his expression uncertain. It was evident he still wanted to call for the doctor, but luckily, he nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “I shan't be far, should you need me.”
It was a slightly over-familiar statement, but I was almost certain he hadn’t meant it in that way. He was simply trying to be reassuring, and I appreciated that. He was a good enough man. His position in society wasn’t particularly noteworthy, but it was enough for me to send him a coy smile.
“Thank you.”
He returned the smile, seemingly emboldened by my reaction, before reaching out for my hand. I allowed him to take it, feeling slightly uncertain as I watched him press a kiss to my knuckles. How did one react to that? I didn’t know what to do. No one had ever kissed my hand before in real life, and I tried to remember what people did or said in reaction to it in movies I’d watched, but I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was entirely blank.
“I hope to see you again soon,” he said before stepping away and letting my hand fall to my side.
“That would be lovely,” I replied, the words slipping from my lips without conscious thought.
His smile widened as he turned away from me, but all I could do was watch. My head felt like it was spinning. I was so far out of my depth, so unsure of what I was meant to be doing or how I was meant to act, and one question seemed to be stuck in my mind, making me feel even more out of my depth.
Had I gone back in time? The outfits were so old-looking, and so was the decor. It was luxurious. Portraits hung on the walls, encased in golden flames, and the vast ballroom was illuminated by a flicking electric chandelier. A distinct smell in the air, a comforting and familiar scent, made me certain the lamps in the sconces around the room were oil. People didn’t really use oil lamps in the modern period, as far as I was aware. I didn’t know anyone who had one.
For some reason, the thought of being in the past scared me. It just felt wrong, but I wasn’t sure why. I’d visited worlds that weren’t in the same year as mine. Many had seemed so different, so technologically advanced, and that must have meant they were the future, but I’d never stopped to think about it.
And I’d never travelled backwards in time. That was entirely new to me, and I think that was why it felt so terrifying. Things were different in the past. There were so many rules and norms and things I needed to be aware of, but I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t pay enough attention during my history classes, but even if I did, I wasn’t sure if that would have helped. They didn’t exactly teach us how to behave if we ever found ourselves being dragged backwards through time.
Or maybe… that wasn’t what had happened, I realised slowly. Maybe I was at exactly the same point in history as my real world; it was just different. The world could have advanced, it could have progressed differently, and that meant it wasn’t the same as ours. There could be some areas where they were even more advanced than ours, and some seemed further behind.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
I had no idea, but the thought was comforting to me. It made me feel as though I wasn’t quite so unsteady. I hadn’t been dropped into an utterly different world. It was just a little more… formal? No, that didn’t feel right. There was something else about it that stood out to me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.
But it didn’t matter. I needed to move, to do something other than just linger at the edge of the ballroom. There were seats. Somewhere behind me, there were seats. I needed to go sit down rather than just standing there awkwardly. It made me look weird and out of place.
Quickly, I turned, keeping my gaze forward as I watched people out of the corner of my eye. I was acutely aware of how much attention was on me as I moved towards one of the empty armchairs and sunk into it. The movement made my skirt puff up, and I stared down at it, my mind turning empty from shock as my eyes widened.
Somehow, I had not considered what I was wearing until that exact moment. I should have. It should have occurred to me to check before then. I knew it was tight, and I’d been admiring the rest of the gowns, but I never actually thought to look down.
It was beautiful, I realised, my heart thumping in my throat as emotion rose within my chest. The full skirt was pale. It was such a light shade of blue that it almost looked white, which made my skin look perfectly sun-kissed. Tiny deep blue flowers dotted the material, and I reached out, letting my finger trace one of them.
Forget me nots. That was what the flower was. I recognised the shape of the flower and the ring of yellow surrounding the warm brown centre. They grew all around the grounds of my family’s estate, and I loved them.
That was why they were on my dress, I recalled. My family had gone to so much effort to have the dress made, taking into account my favourite flower, not just because they were beautiful but also to remind me of home. They needed me to make the best possible impression and keep them in mind. I had to remember why I was there.
A shaky sigh slipped from my lips. It was fine, I tried to reassure myself. I was doing fine. The season had been going well thus far; really well, in fact. I was socialising, becoming closer with all the right people, all the people I’d been instructed to befriend, and I was actually enjoying it.
Mostly.
It was stressful. A lot of pressure had been placed on me, and the constant reminder of how much was riding on my ability to make a good impression and be invited back next year when I was of marriage age made it hard to breathe sometimes. The knowledge that the duke was looking for his next wife didn’t help either. He wouldn’t need to wait until next year, my mother had informed me. If he took a shine to me, we could be married in the fall.
I’d made a good impression on him, I thought. It seemed like I had, at least. We’d danced together at the last event, and I was so careful to ensure I remembered every step and didn’t embarrass myself or him. It seemed to work. He’d told me he enjoyed himself and that he’d be sure to find me for another dance at this ball, but that had yet to happen, which was making me a little nervous. Part of me couldn’t help but worry I’d made a grave mistake at some point without realising, and people were mocking me behind my back.
It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need to worry about what they thought or whether I’d done well enough to deserve an invite to the next season. That was of little importance to me anymore.
A shadow fell over me, and I blinked, drawing myself out of my thoughts to look up at the man before me.
“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked, a handsome smile on his lips as he held his hand out to me.
My heart leapt, but my smile faltered for just a moment. I wasn’t sure why. I recognised the man. I knew I did, but I was unsure of the connection. My memories were still too distant from me; they were inaccessible, and all I could recall was that we had met before. Many times, actually.
He looked different from the others. There was something about him that made him stand out compared to the rest of the men, and I wasn’t sure what it was. He was younger than most, still older than me, but only by a few years or so. His clothing wasn’t too dissimilar from theirs, but he wore it with such confidence, such assuredness, that it appeared different.
Or perhaps it was his smile. It held a rougish quality, as if he were on the brink of telling a joke or breaking into laughter, and it made me long to hear the sound. I wanted to be the one to make him chuckle, to hear the melodic laughter that would spill from his full lips.
But something about him made me uneasy. It caused my body to tense and my thoughts to sharpen. I needed to be careful around him.
“It would be my pleasure,” I said, being cautious not to let my emotions show on my face as I took his hand.
His smile widened as I stood, offering me his elbow. I hesitated for just a moment before accepting, my heart thudding as we walked towards the dance floor, where the orchestra was playing.
Every eye in the room seemed to turn to us as we moved. People stepped out of the way for us automatically, averting their eyes whilst still watching us closely, and I was ashamed to realise I was enjoying it. Although I did not trust the man, the attention and respect I received from being on his arm made me feel powerful. I lifted my chin a little higher, my spine straightening as I allowed myself to stand tall.
But that confidence didn’t last long. Within seconds, a wave of panic slammed into me. We were almost at the dance floor, and for some reason, it had only just hit me that I would be expected to dance. I was about to waltz with the man in front of everyone, and I didn’t know how to do it. I had no clue what I was doing, and the people already swirling before us seemed so rehearsed. Their movements were so elaborate, and I watched as their skirts and tailcoats swished, my breathing speeding up once more. I couldn’t do it.
A strange almost numb fog settled over me. Actually, I realised, I could. Part of me, the part that lived in that world, was ready for that moment. I had been preparing for weeks, months, actually. It had started pretty much the moment the last season had ended, and I’d barely had a break from the constant lessons in what was once the imposing ballroom of my family’s estate, but it was little more than a dusty abandoned room. I wasn’t sure anyone had entered it since my brother had died, throwing my family into chaos.
The man turned towards me, placing one hand on my waist and holding the other out for me. I hesitated for just a moment, trying to steady myself, before letting my hand settle on his shoulder and slipping my hand into his. The touch sent electricity through me, and I forced my expression to remain neutral as I held his gaze.
There was a slight pause before we began to dance. My first few steps were wooden and tense, but I quickly felt myself begin to relax into it, allowing my body to move as I had been taught. It was easy, and I found myself actually starting to enjoy it as my anxiety ebbed.
“How are you enjoying the ball?” my partner asked, seeming to notice my change in focus.
The question took me by surprise. For some reason, I hadn’t been expecting him to make small talk, but I swallowed, stretching my lips into a smile as I looked up at the man.
“It’s very nice, thank you,” I replied. “Are you enjoying the event?”
“I am now.”
Blood rushed into my face, and I had to look away. I was unable to hold his gaze for any longer, and I was painfully aware of how many people were watching us. They may have noticed the colour in my cheeks, wondering what had been said to cause such a reaction.
“You flatter me,” I muttered as we continued to turn.
“And you delight me.”
His tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I wasn’t sure if it was caused by fear or excitement. The hidden promises in his voice were so evident, so pronounced, but I wasn’t sure what they were. What was it that the man had offered me?
I looked back at him, the movement lifting my chin slightly. The deep green of his eyes was so inviting. It drew me in, pulling me closer and closer until awareness suddenly slammed into me. He was leaning down. Our faces were but a short distance apart, and I had to pull back, scanning the crowd out of the corner of my eye.
That type of behaviour, the way we were acting, wasn’t proper. It was inappropriate and immodest, and that was wrong. I needed to do better. I had to remember everything my etiquette tutor had tried to instil in me before it was too late.
But he had yet to move. His lips were still so close to mine.
“We must be careful,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. “People will talk. Especially because…”
I trialled off, my eyes dipping lower to focus on his waistcoat. I must have noticed it earlier in the night, but the colour was too deliberate. It was a near-perfect match of the flowers on my dress, but it was nothing more than a coincidence. The dress had been made by a tailor back home. I’d kept it locked away in my room since I’d arrived, and there was no chance he could have seen it, but people would still talk. They would assume it was intentional.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Should things go well, it would be very good, in fact. But, if things went badly, it would not be good. However, I would have bigger things to worry about than simply being linked to the man in front of me.
“Let them,” he said, lifting a shoulder in a carefree shrug. “We’ll give them something better to talk about soon enough.”
My heart began to sink into my stomach, the sensation making me nauseous.
“Oh, will we?” I asked, trying to hide the fear that took flight in my heart and flapped frantically against my rib cage.
It was too soon. I knew it was coming, but it had happened too suddenly, and I needed more time. I wasn’t ready to do what I had to do, and I could barely keep from turning and fleeing the room as one of the man’s eyebrows slowly rose.
“Do you need to use the bathroom, Grace?” I heard my mother ask, her voice slicing through to me.
“No, thank you,” I said distantly, my eyes still fixed on the man in front of me.
“We will,” he said, his tone firm as the song drew to a close and we stopped dancing. “Would you care for a walk around the gardens?”
I longed to refuse, to tell him that I was fine, but I knew he wouldn’t accept it. Still, the words rose within me, breaking free before I could hold them back.
“Actually, I’d rather not. This dress isn’t particularly well suited to the chill.”
It was a lie. If anything, the dress was a little too well suited to the cold. The many layers meant I was on the verge of overheating at any given moment, and the thought of a cool breeze filled me with yearning. But I didn’t want to be alone with him.
The warmth drained from his eyes so quickly that it left me breathless. His lips stretched into a smile, bearing his teeth at me, but it was terrifyingly emotionless.
“Well,” he said, turning away from the dance floor and taking my arm. “Should the temperature become unbearable, I shall lend you my coat.”