She hesitated, letting another dancer collide with her, pushing her against the wall. She had no right to approach a man like Joseph. He was a titled nobleman, a wealthy lord, an important gentleman. Only the most significant of men dared mingle with him.

For several beats of the lively tune, she held back and watched him interact with his peers. He nodded at something one of them said and spoke politely in return.

Aye, he was a lord, but he’d also become her friend. And she couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by. She had to say good-bye, and this was likely her last chance to do so. She might not be as significant as the men, but she couldn’t forget she was just as valuable. She had worth. And she had to prove to herself she had every bit as much right to speak with Joseph as anyone else.

She thrust away from the wall, winding her way through the crowd until at last she was close enough that he would notice her if he turned.

His back was straight and his shoulders strong, his suit coat stretched taut at the seams. He continued to scan the dance hall even as he conversed with the gentlemen surrounding him.

What should she do? Sidle around until she stood in his line of vision and then wait for him to acknowledge her? She swallowed the old fears that whispered she wasn’t good enough, that she’d never be his equal. She sucked in a breath and addressed him the way he’d asked of her. “Joseph?”

He froze and then spun to face her. “There you are.” The relief in his voice and on his face reassured Mercy, even if the men on either side of Joseph raised questioning brows and peered down their noses at her.

“Will you please excuse me, gentlemen,” Joseph said. “I must take some fresh air.”

Without waiting for their responses, he took hold of her arm and steered her from the hall, past the crowds milling in the entrance, and out the front door.

The night air was laden with the scents of woodsmoke and pine. After almost a week in Victoria, Mercy was still amazed by the cleanliness of the buildings, streets, and the air. With the town only a few years old, most of the buildings were new and freshly painted, standing tall with pride. Of all the businesses, Victoria boasted mostly restaurants and saloons. There seemed to be a dozen on every street.

In spite of the vices, nothing could compare to the blackened, leaning, and terraced buildings that crowded London. The wide street before her contained a festiveness, a celebration of life that seemed to mock the desolation lurking in the narrow passageways of Nichol and other London slums.