Jane flushed, but she remained resolute. “Very well, Louisa, I’ll be plain. Putting on a pretty new dress and sailing in all cheerful as though nothing had happened isn’t quite the thing, is it?”
“I am anything but cheerful,” Louisa said, striving to keep her tone even. “My sister thought the gown would put me in better spirits. She and my sisters-in-law convinced me to come, because they thought I should go out and see people. I’m certain they believed I’d find sympathy among my oldest and dearest friends.”
Instead of being admonished, the ladies and gentlemen looked annoyed, and Adele laughed. “Louisa, my dear, it’s becoming a dangerous thing to be your friend.”
One of the gentlemen laughed as well. The four young men behind the ladies were those she’d played tag with in the meadows of Kent and danced with after her come out. One gentleman looked at Louisa as though he’d never seen her before, and another was glancing about for a way to escape without appearing rude.
“I do beg your pardon for my sister Jane,” the gentleman who’d laughed said. “You see, Mama has told her—and me—to stay away from you. I’m afraid your dance card won’t be very full tonight. Word is circulating that you’re poison.” He laughed again, proud he’d made a joke.
“You aren’t funny, Samuel,” Jane said. “But it’s true, Louisa. We have been advised to keep our distance.”
“I see.” Louisa’s chest tightened as she looked at them, finding no sympathy in their faces. “I see now what years of friendship can count for.” She’d cared for Adele and Jane, but their expressions were stony tonight, all caring gone.
“Not their fault,” Samuel said. “It’s just that murder is so sordid. Not the done thing, you know.” He mimed stabbing with a knife, still grinning.
“I did nothing to him.” Louisa gave Samuel a hard look. “I had hoped my closest friends would believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Samuel asked. “No chap is going to risk being at your side tonight, Louisa darling. He’ll always worry about taking a sip of his tea, or his claret, or his port, or his brandy, or his—”
“What the devil is this?” a new voice said.
Louisa started, and looked around to see the Honorable Gilbert Franklin, who’d stopped in time to hear the last comments. Gilbert was one of Louisa’s oldest friends—they’d lived next door to each other as children, and Louisa had been maid of honor to Gil’s sister last summer. She hadn’t seen much of either of them since, until Gil had turned up at Mrs. Leigh-Waters’ now-infamous garden party.
Gilbert cast a disparaging gaze over the little group. “Are you telling me, Sam, that after all these years, you still have no idea how to behave to a lady? I believe that in this glorious England, we think a person innocent of a crime until proven otherwise, do we not? Doesn’t Louisa deserve that same faith? Or at the very least, your respect?” Gil spoke in pleasant tones, as he always did, but his look was sharp, his words direct.
Samuel had the grace to be abashed. Gilbert was well liked, and now the others looked embarrassed, no longer laughing.
“How are you, Louisa?” Gil stuck out his hand and squeezed Louisa’s when she put hers into his. “I’m happy to see you tonight. I know you have been painfully upset, and I’ll wager none of these louts have decided to rally ’round and make you feel better.”
Adele bridled. “Really, Gil.”
“Yes, really, Del,” Gil said. “I never thought you so heartless. Louisa, I believe the first set is forming in the ballroom. Will you do me the honor? And if your dance card has remained empty tonight, I will happily fill it.”
The others had gone deathly silent. Gil’s strong fingers remained around Louisa’s hand.
Louisa’s heart pounded. Every part of her had been wanting to flee back across Mayfair to the sanctuary of Isabella’s house, where she could go up to the nursery and make herself feel better sitting with the children. Being around Isabella’s children always comforted her, and they did not believe her a murderess.
Now Gil’s wash of sympathy nearly undid her. He was handing Louisa a lifeline, coming to her rescue. Refusing him and running would be as churlish as Adele and her friends were being to Louisa. The Hon. Gil was well liked, well-bred, well-dressed, attractive, wealthy, and intelligent. His stamp of approval could save her life.
Louisa smiled at him in true gratitude. “Of course. I would indeed love to dance. Excuse me, my friends. I hope you enjoy Isabella’s entertainments.”
She wouldn’t cut them dead, much as she longed to. She would not be as petty as they were being. She bowed graciously to the collective group, who had to return the bow or be forever branded as uncouth.
Gil led Louisa away, keeping such a quick pace she didn’t have time to say anything to him until they stood in line for the opening dance, an old-fashioned country dance. Waltzing would take up the rest of the night—with pauses for Scottish reels, since this was a Mackenzie party after all—but Isabella always opened her balls with country dances.
Gil knew these dances as well as he knew everything else. Gil had always been there, in the background of Louisa’s life, she now realized. He’d been brother to her dear friend, playing with the two girls as children, teaching them cricket in their adolescence, escorting them to parties after their come outs, quietly shrugging off their praise about his academic honors at university. Gil was the perfect gentleman, so perfect one didn’t always notice him, because he did his best to efface himself and not push in front of others.
On the other hand, everyone in Louisa’s set considered Gil’s opinion highly important. If Gil had taken Adele’s and Samuel’s part this evening, her social ruin would have been assured. The fact that Gil had admonished them would be all over Mayfair by the end of the set.
“Thank you for taking pity on me,” Louisa said as they came together in the dance.
“Nonsense, Louisa, I meant every word of it.”
“Nevertheless, it was kind.”
Gil gave her a warm smile. “You deserve much more than to be snubbed by Samuel and Jane, believe me.”
The dance took them apart, but Gil’s smile remained, like an anchor in the swirling madness. Louisa knew he’d done her a great favor, simply from the goodness of his heart. She’d have to find a way to thank the man who’d just saved her from being an outcast at her own sister’s ball.