“Isn’t it lovely? I daresay Lady Esterhazy outdid herself with the decorations,” Claire remarked.
Francesca ignored them.
“You are hoping to ensure that I won’t say a word about the contents of your precious diary. You think that if you just hover nearby, then you will prevent me from gossiping about everything that I know.” She dropped her voice. “Everything.”
“Now Lady Francesca . . .”
“Well, you are gravely mistaken, Lady Bridget. Unless Darcy finally proposes to me. Do you know how long I have been waiting?”
“I do not.”
“Years,” she hissed. “I turned down a marquis, two earls, and a few barons. Not that barons truly signify. Now you think you can just come along and steal my intended, and I am quite nearly on the shelf.”
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to,” Bridget said softly. Oh Lord, did she really need to feel pangs of empathy for this woman who was threatening to ruin her? No. But she felt them anyway. How dreadfully inconvenient. “Say whatever you wish about me, Lady Francesca, but don’t drag anyone else into it.”
“It depends on Darcy, does it not?”
Aye, it depended on Darcy, who stomped around being lordly, saving the day and sacrificing his happiness for silly things like reputation. Darcy, whom she loved. Darcy, who was presently nowhere to be found.
Unless it depended on her.
Perhaps she could save the day.
Bridget’s heart started pounding at the thought of what she was about to do.
“Actually, Lady Francesca, it does not depend on Lord Darcy. You see, if I were to tell everyone all the secrets in my diary, then you would have no leverage with which to force Darcy’s hand.”
The look of shock on her face revealed that she had not considered this. Then she considered it. And scoffed.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said menacingly. “You would ruin your sister.”
“Not necessarily,” Amelia cut in. Bridget caught her eye. What the devil did that mean? Amelia winked, leaving her even more confused.
“You ran away unaccompanied and told the ton you were ill,” Francesca said in a quiet, lethal voice. “I daresay you would be ruined if anyone knew about that. And Bridget, you will also be ruined if everyone knew what you did with Darcy. And I don’t see a betrothal ring on your finger and I certainly don’t see him by your side, coming to your rescue.”
And then, there he was.
Lord Darcy.
Both she and Lady Francesca sighed and turned to watch him walk through the crush in their direction.
She tried to read his expression: determined? Angry? Ravished? Vexed to be embroiled in a fraught standoff between two gently bred ladies over a diary? It was impossible to tell. She suspected it was all of those things.
And then he smiled at her. The one time he had to smile at her, in public, across a crowded ballroom, and it was a mistake. Lady Francesca understood something in that smile, directed toward Bridget. It meant she had lost. She turned to address the ballroom, clapped her hands for attention, and spoke loudly.
“Attention, everyone. I have an announcement to make.”
Darcy stopped short. The crowd around them fell quiet, and slowly a silence descended upon the ballroom.
“This is so dramatic,” Amelia whispered.
“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Claire replied. She had come to stand with her sisters in what by all accounts appeared to be their hour of need.
“Honestly, isn’t your heart just racing?” Amelia asked.
“Honestly, I feel like I might cast up my accounts,” Bridget said softly. “On your shoes.”
But she wasn’t nervous about what Lady Francesca was about to say. Bridget was nervous about the declaration she was about to make.
Francesca stood there, poised, reveling in having all the attention in the ballroom fixed on her.
“I also have an announcement to make,” Darcy declared. He knew how to speak to make himself heard. His low, strong voice made her heart start to pound. She didn’t know what he was going to say. She only knew he loved her. But was that enough?
“Ladies first, Lord Darcy,” Francesca chided him. “Or would you like to make the announcement together?”
There were audible murmurs and gasps in the crowd. Everyone would now be expecting a betrothal announcement. Bridget’s heart began to pound in earnest now. Breathing suddenly became an impossible task. And why hadn’t she noticed how many people were here? Hundreds and hundreds of people who were standing around, sipping champagne, and about to watch her make an arse of herself. Again.
“And now I feel faint.”
“Don’t swoon now, Bridget. Things are just getting interesting,” Claire said.