Read Online Autumn Glory and Other Stories by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page A

an apoplexy. Shall we go?” Irma tugged on her mother’s sleeve and loudly whispered, “Lord Wingate has invited me for a walk on the balcony. If I am not back shortly, tell Papa I fell off.”
    Lady Bannister scowled, but she couldn’t very well refuse the highest ranking gentleman at her ball. “You’ll return at the end of this dance, Irmagard, or I shall come drag you back myself, broken legs and all.”
    The viscount fixed the shawl more securely on Irma’s shoulders when they reached the balcony. He led her away from the other couples taking the cool night air and advantage of the dark corners. “I’m sorry you’ll have to go back.”
    Irma leaned on the railing and stared up at the stars, trying to see them through the blur of tears “Oh, it’s not your fault. And thank you for this reprieve at least. You truly are the most chivalrous of gentlemen. I wish…”
    “What do you wish, Glory?”
    She wished with all her heart she was older, prettier, more refined—and not about to be affianced to some unknown, unloved, and unlikely shabster. What she said was “I wish this dance will never end.”
    Winn chuckled. “Usually it’s some young mooncalf who utters that bit of fustian. Or at least a female who’s been waltzed senseless. In your case it’s not quite the compliment a gentleman expects.”
    “Oh, do stop teasing. You of all people know how hopeless my situation is.”
    “I told you not to worry, didn’t I?” He took her arm for the walk back toward the entrance of the ballroom.
    “That’s all very well and good, but no one is about to condemn you to a life sentence.”
    “The verdict isn’t in yet, Glory,” he whispered when they reached Lady Bannister’s side. Then the viscount raised Irma’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. She knew what he was doing, trying to frighten other suitors off by making them think he had an interest in her. Such a ploy wouldn’t fadge with Papa. He wanted an offer, not a bit of gallantry. Winn was just being chivalrous again. Still, her fingers tingled.
    Happily, a commotion at the door drew everyone’s eye before the music started for the next interval. Iselle and her new husband blew into the room amid laughter and exclamations and more congratulations. There was more champagne and more toasting, and no one paid any attention whatsoever to Irma, hidden at the edge of the family group. A few of her mother’s friends did make snide references to two such joyous events, with cutting looks in the third daughter’s direction, but the bachelors were busy chiding the latest benedict in their midst, or swigging more of the baron’s wine.
    When the orchestra struck up a quadrille, Evan Farrell escorted his new bride to the floor, and Irma’s heart sank. Now she was exposed to the scrutiny of the assembly all over again. The young bucks were getting louder in their jests, bolder in their assessing looks, even with the viscount standing nearby. Papa’s face was getting redder.
    Then Kelvin, dear, sweet, affianced Kelvin Allbright asked her to stand up with him. She accepted with joy, then proceeded to step on Kelvin’s toes, trip up the other couples, and purposely mangle the complicated figures of the dance. ’Twould take a brave man to dance with her after that exhibition, she figured, brave as well as pockets to let.
    Her new brother-in-law asked her for the country dance next forming, bless his dandified heart. Farrell did threaten to leave her to her fate if she scuffed his new satin evening pumps, but he smiled and offered to try talking sense into her father. Irma told him to save his breath, for Lord Bannister was barrelling around the ballroom, haranguing the knots of men on the sidelines. He was most likely raising her dowry even as she danced. She thanked Sir Evan as prettily as she could when he returned her to Lady Bannister, but her heart was sinking as low as her slippers. Not even Farrell’s whispered promise to bribe his married