“Oh,” her mother declared before the girl could do more than peep up at him again and open her mouth to speak, “apart from the opening set, which Lydia is to dance with Viscount Fettering, who is her cousin, she has promised no set to any gentleman. It would not have been fair to fill her card before the ball, as she could have done three times over, and so disappoint a number of her guests. Lydia, my love, Lord Hodges has asked you a question.” She beamed from one to the other of them.
“I would be happy to dance a set with you, my lord,” the girl said.
“The second,” Lady Dunmore said.
“I thank you for the honor,” Colin said to her daughter, and followed his friends into the ballroom.
It was crowded and buzzing with the collective sound of a few dozen conversations. The musicians were tuning their instruments, an indication that it must be almost time for the dancing to begin. Colin recognized people wherever he looked, as was to be expected when he had lived in London through every spring Season for the past five years. There were a few unfamiliar faces too, however, most of them belonging to young men newly down from university or up from the country without having furthered their education, or to young ladies recently released from the schoolroom and come to town to acquaint themselves with thetonand acquire husbands during their first Season if they should be so fortunate.
It was all much as usual, in fact.
“It looks as if there is a pretty decent crop this year,” John Croft said cheerfully and a bit disrespectfully, his quizzing glass in his hand though not held to his eye as he gazed upon all the young ladies.
“You are in love already, John?” Ross Parmiter asked, winking at Colin.
“Not quite,” John said with a laugh, dropping his glass on its ribbon. “But the brown-haired girl with the topknot is a looker, and she seems to be with Baker. She must be one of his sisters or cousins. There are said to be at least dozen of them. Ha! A baker’s dozen. Funny, that. I believe I will take a stroll over there and get Baker to introduce me.”
The topknot, Colin guessed, had been constructed to give the girl some height. She was unusually small otherwise. But John was right about her looks. She had a pretty, animated face and, if he was not mistaken from this distance, dimples. Dimples were always appealing.
“I’ll come with you,” Ross said.
Colin would have gone too, but his glance had just alit upon Mrs. Westcott across the room, her hair plumes nodding as she talked with a group of older ladies. She spotted him at the same moment and smiled and inclined her head. Beside her, Elizabeth, Lady Overfield was in conversation with a tall, stocky gentleman. She was neatly dressed in a primrose-colored gown with short, puffed sleeves, a modestly scooped neckline, a fashionably high waistline, and a scalloped hem. Her hair was dressed prettily but without any noticeable topknots or ringlets or excessive curls—or plumes. She had made no attempt, it seemed, to make herself look either glamorous or younger than she was. She never did, in fact. It was ironic, then, that the very simplicity of her dress gave her a youthful appearance. And beauty, though she did not need the dress to give her that.
She had not seen him. But her mother touched her arm even as he watched and said something to her, and she looked across the room until she saw him. He raised a hand in greeting, and she smiled. She looked like the springtime, or she made him feel like the springtime or some such poetic nonsense. The gentleman too turned his head. Colin knew him. He searched his mind for a name but could not immediately recall it. The man was a worthy citizen, however, one of a set of dull fellows who hung together at White’s and talked endlessly and knowledgeably about crops and drainage and livestock and other such farming subjects. Colin stayed out of earshot whenever he could. Was he by any chance the man whom she…?
But surely not.
Oh, Elizabeth, no.
A couple of people had moved in front of them and Colin, looking away, spotted the stately figure of the Dowager Duchess of Netherby close by with Lady Jessica Archer, her daughter. He strolled toward them as they finished talking with another couple. Both ladies seemed pleased to see him, and he was able to secure Lady Jessica’s hand for the third set, the first having already been promised.
“Your cousins are not in town yet?” Colin asked her.
She pulled a face. “Nor will they be,” she said. “Abby remains irritatingly stubborn. Avery and Anna have offered to bring her out. Mama has offered. Alexander and Wren have offered, though they are not in town yet either. Even Uncle Thomas and Aunt Mildred have offered. And now she has the Marquess of Dorchester for a stepfather, and he has suggested bringing her out with Estelle. His own daughter, Lord Hodges! Abby’sstepsister. Estelle is eighteen years old and you would think, would you not, that she at least would be all eagerness to be here? But no such thing. She would rather postpone the pleasure until next year. She wants to enjoy one full year at home with her father and her new stepmother, if you please. It is all very provoking for me. Not that Abby would come anyway, I daresay, even if Estelle did. She is my dearest friend in the world, Lord Hodges, but sometimes I could shake her until her teeth rattle.”
Flushed and animated as she was, Lady Jessica Archer looked very pretty indeed. And she was no milk-and-water miss.
“I brought Jessica to London kicking and screaming, Lord Hodges,” the dowager told him, shaking her head as she regarded her daughter fondly.
“Hardly, Mama,” Lady Jessica said with a sigh. “I am nineteen years old. I cannot stay at home forever, can I? Yet forever it might turn out to be if I wait for Abby. Perhaps we could grow old together as sad spinsters in a remote country cottage somewhere.” She caught Colin smiling and laughed, a girlish peal of glee.
Yes. Very pretty indeed. And a duke’s daughter. But perhaps his own baron’s title would be considered too lowly…
They were interrupted by the arrival of her partner for the opening set, and Colin looked around the immediate vicinity for a partner of his own. There were invariably more ladies than gentlemen at such affairs, and it would be unmannerly to stand on the sidelines and thus doom one of them to stand there too. He saw Miss Cowley, a young lady with whom he had a slight acquaintance, nearby with her mama and smiled as he moved toward them. The girl smiled back with almost open relief.
John Croft was already out on the dance floor with the girl with the topknot, Colin saw as he led his partner to the line of ladies before taking his place in the line of gentlemen opposite. Ross had a partner too, a tall girl, who was giggling with the lady next to her.
The stocky gentleman was joining the end of the line with Elizabeth. She was going to dance the opening set, then. Colin was glad of that. She was far too young and attractive to spend the evening sitting or standing with the mothers and chaperones. He would solicit her hand for a waltz later in the evening—he assumed there would be a few on the program despite the presence of a number of very young ladies who would not be allowed to participate until they had been approved, probably later in the Season, by one of the patronesses of Almack’s.
He looked forward immensely to holding her to her promise. For the moment he felt that he had come this evening for no other purpose but that.
He had another partner now, however, and was neglecting her. He smiled reassuringly at her. This was not her first Season. He was not even sure it was her second—it seemed to him he might have known her longer than two years. She looked as though she was feeling some doubt, even some anxiety about her eligibility. Life could be cruel to girls who did not find husbands within a year or two of their release from the schoolroom. They could so easily be flung upon the shelf and left there to gather dust. And what a ghastly image that was. Perhaps…But, no. He felt no real attraction to Miss Cowley, and it would surely be a huge mistake to marry any woman just because he felt sorry for her and wished to save her from being doomed to go through life as a spinster, dependent upon her male relatives.
Now that he thought about it, he felt no real attraction to Lady Jessica Archer either, though she was a very pretty, lively girl and he really did like her. He felt a moment’s amusement as he remembered seeing her on Christmas Eve with Abigail Westcott and Lady Estelle Lamarr, their heads together as they looked him over self-consciously and giggled. He had liked all three. He had not felt the pull of any special attraction to any of them. And to be fair, he did not believe he had left any of them lovelorn and brokenhearted after Christmas.
He glanced along the line to catch Elizabeth looking at him. She raised her eyebrows, amusement in her eyes, and he realized he had been smiling at nothing—except the memories.
Miss Lydia Dunmore, looking both nervous and excited, joined the head of the line with Viscount Fettering, and the orchestra struck a chord. Miss Dunmore was an interesting prospect—very pretty and modest, if her behavior in the receiving line was an accurate indication of her character. He looked forward to dancing the second set with her.
