“Pippa,” she said, stopping to look her daughter over from head to foot. “You are perfection. Is she not, Steph?”
“Yes,” Stephanie said, beaming at her sister.
“It is frustrating to be sixteen, is it not?” their mother said, turning her gaze upon her younger daughter. “No longer a child but not quite a woman? But your turn will come sooner than you think. I promise.”
“Oh, but I really do not want a turn, Mama, as I keep telling you,” Stephanie said as she handed Philippa her fan. “I will come downstairs to see the two of you on your way. And tomorrow I will come to your room, Pippa, early but nottooearly, to rub salve on all the blisters your poor feet are about to acquire from dancing all night. And I will listen to an account of all your conquests.”
Philippa laughed, rapped her sister lightly over the knuckles with the fan, and followed their mother from the room. The butterflies that had been threatening her stomach all day were dancing away there now at full flutter.
Chapter Ten
Lucas went early to the Abingdon ball, something he would not normally have dreamed of doing. However, Jenny had announced at breakfast that she was going to attend the ball herself.
“I love dancing,” she had explained. “Why should I not go to watch even if I cannot dance myself? I was included in Aunt Kitty’s invitation when it came a couple of weeks or so ago. I will not be a bother to anyone or get in anyone’s way.”
“You are never a bother, my love,” her grandmother had assured her. “I do hope you have a pretty new gown to wear.”
“It is a rather bright shade of pink, Grandmama,” Jenny had told her. “I was afraid it might clash with my hair, but both Aunt Kitty and the dressmaker assured me it did not. If I see everyone at the ball wincing whenever they glance in my direction, I will know never to trust Aunt Kitty’s judgment or that particular dressmaker’s ever again.”
“Jenny!” Aunt Kitty had protested, pressing a hand theatricallyto her bosom. “I have always had a reputation for impeccable taste in fashion.”
Jenny would see to it that she was not a bother to anyone, even her family, Lucas had thought fondly. And sure enough, she had arranged that Bruce, the hefty footman whose primary duty for many years had been to convey her from place to place, would carry first her wheeled chair and then Jenny herself upstairs to the ballroom, and her brother knew she would sit in a quiet corner all evening if allowed to, making demands upon no one. She would not be left alone, of course, or in any corner. She had a number of acquaintances in town and a few definite friends, even apart from family. Everyone would keep an eye on her even though she would do nothing to demand it—or perhaps because of that.
Lucas insisted anyway upon accompanying her when she and his aunt left early for the ball so she would arrive before most of the other guests and avoid having to make any sort of conspicuous entrance. The arrival of a wheeled chair in a ballroom might indeed be remarked upon if there were enough spectators to do the remarking.
Lucas did not mind arriving early anyway. He wanted to watch the guests as they entered the ballroom and learn who they were if he could. Lady Abingdon, he knew, was bringing out her eldest daughter, Miss Thorpe, this year. She might possibly be considered worthy to be added to Grandmama’s list since the baronial title was an old, prestigious one. The young lady would probably be in the receiving line with her parents. He knew Lady Morgan Bedwyn, having been introduced to her at an earlier ball. He had no idea if she would be at tonight’s. He knew Lady Philippa Ware. And that was almost the extent of his acquaintance with eligible ladies. He had been introduced to other young women since the day of his arrival in town, it was true, but he doubted any of them would meet his grandparents’ exacting standards as a possible wife. He verymuch hoped to meet others tonight without the direct intervention of the duke and duchess. The least he could do for the bride he must choose this year was convince her somehow that he was offering for herbecause he liked her.
His grandparents were coming to the ball. Grandmama had sent a note to Lady Abingdon this morning as well as to other socially prominent hostesses, and of course an invitation to tonight’s ball had arrived at Arden House within the hour.
Lucas wheeled his sister along the receiving line, pausing for an exchange of greetings with Lord and Lady Abingdon and an introduction to Miss Thorpe, who looked flushed and pretty and almost painfully young in her white, frilly gown. He settled Jenny in a convenient space between rows of chairs that had been set up about the perimeter of the room for chaperons and other nondancers. It was halfway along the ballroom and would afford Jenny a perfect view of the dancing.
He left her with their aunt as the ballroom began to fill with guests, and strolled about, greeting people he knew and being introduced to others. They included a few young ladies he had not met before. They were dressed almost exclusively in white, as was Miss Thorpe, as though it were some sort of signal to the single male guests that they were young, new on the market, and available. Horrid thought. He was only twenty-six himself. Nevertheless, most of them looked very young to him. All of them, however, would have been raised and educated to acquire the knowledge and accomplishments they would need as heads of their own households when they married, fitting partners and hostesses to gentlemen of good birth and—they would all hope—of comfortable fortune too.
It was really quite ghastly to know that he was an active participant in the marriage mart this year.
There were other single men in the ballroom too. At least, Lucas assumed they were single since they were there alone, as he was at the moment, or in company with one another. They were looking over the young women, most of whom were pretending not to notice. Some even pretended to be feeling slightly bored. A number of fans waved languidly before unsmiling faces to complete the impression. Perhaps it was an amusing, even exciting game for some. Lucas hated it. He wanted someone to love, damn it all, and he wanted the leisure in which to find that someone and court her properly until they were both as sure as anyone could be that they might expect some happiness together. Some real companionship. Some pleasure in the marriage bed.
He went to stand beside Jenny’s chair again as the ballroom filled and it became obvious that Lady Abingdon was going to be able to boast tomorrow of what a grand squeeze her ball had been. Newly arrived guests were still moving along the receiving line. Aunt Kitty stood at the other side of Jenny’s chair, talking with two couples with whom she had an acquaintance.
Lucas’s eyes focused upon a man who was approaching him, a smile on his face. “The Marquess of Roath?” he said. “Arnold Jamieson, son of Baron Russell, at your service.”
Lucas assured him with an inclination of his head that he was delighted to make his acquaintance.
“May I have the pleasure of an introduction to Lady Jennifer Arden?” Jamieson asked.
Jenny was smiling up at them. Her dressmaker and Aunt Kitty had been quite correct about the color of her gown. The brightness of the pink did suit her. It added color to her face and went very well indeed with her hair, which was dressed in intricate coils at the back of her head and was smooth and shining over the crown. Her face was probably not conventionally pretty, but there was surelysomething rather handsome about it. It was hard to tell, though, when one had known and been fond of someone all one’s life.
“Jenny,” he said. “Allow me to present Mr.Jamieson, son of Baron Russell.”
“Elderson,” the young man said, bowing and offering her his right hand. “How do you do, Lady Jennifer?”
“I am very well, thank you,” she said, setting her hand in his but not allowing it to linger there. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.Jamieson.”
“I am hoping,” he said, “that you will grant me the honor of the first set of dances.”
She raised her eyebrows and Aunt Kitty turned away from her conversation in order to look at Jamieson. “I am unable to dance—or to walk,” Jenny said. “But thank you for the invitation.”
“Ah,” Jamieson said. “I did notice the wheels on your chair and deduced your inability to walk. However, some dance partners do not take to the floor at all but use the half hour of a set to sit and converse. Will you allow me to sit and talk with you during the opening set?”
