"Mirabel," the lady said quietly. "How old are you, Miss Taylor?"
"Almost six-and-twenty."
"Six-and-twenty. How surprising. There's nothing about your lovely appearance that doesn't suggest you're no longer in the first flush of youth."
Mira flushed.
"Tell me, where are you from?"
This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.
"Fowey, my lady," Mira replied, confused by the lady's piercing eyes.
"Fowey. And that would be where, exactly?"
"In Cornwall."
"Ah." The lady suddenly dropped her hands and looked at her for a moment in silence, as if considering something. Then she smiled. "Charming. How very charming." She turned to Lady Randolph. "Not one, but two lovely flowers. Rose and Mirabel. Hidden away in the shadow. For shame! I expect to see more of you in the future." She waved her hand at them. "Expect an invitation soon. In the meantime, I shall send away that abominable crowd in front of your door, yes?"
As if on command, both Miss Cullpepper and Mira fell into a curtsy.
After she left, Lady Randolph dropped into her chair with a moan. "Where's the vinaigrette?"
Mira handed her the smelling salts.
Lady Randolph sniffed them and shook her head. "Unbelievable. Truly, unbelievable. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes..."
"I don't understand, Lady Randolph," Miss Cullpepper finally spoke up. "Who is she? She was awfully intimidating."
Lady Randolph dropped the vinaigrette and opened her eyes. "Never tell me you haven't heard of Princess Florentina? She is an Austrian princess, related to the Esterhazy family, and an important patron. Some say she wields more power than Princess Esterhazy herself. From what I've seen, I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case."
Miss Cullpepper looked at Mira with wide, panicked eyes. Mira lifted her shoulders in response.
"I suppose this is a good thing, my lady, that she has come?" Miss Cullpepper clutched her fan.
Lady Randolph looked at her with a speculative gleam in her eyes. "It depends on how you look at it. Few people know she has connections with the de Lacey family."
"De Lacey?"
"You should know the name. It is one of the oldest and proudest in England. The present head of the family is Lord Christopher de Lacey, 12th Marquess of Atherton. She is his godmother. It is no coincidence that she has come. Congratulations, Miss Cullpepper. Within the past hour, you have not only managed to charm the entireton, but it appears you have also caught Atherton's eye."
ChapterFour
"This is good, isn't it?"Miss Cullpepper wailed as Mira helped her into the nightgown. "Tell me it's a good thing!"
"Of course it is, miss. The marquess is the catch of the Season, and if he's thrown an eye at you, that can only mean—"that all and sundry knows that he can't mean anything respectable at all, aside from your silly mother, who wants to barter in her daughter for a title and fortune,Mira nearly said, but she bit her lip. "This can only mean that you charmed him when you fainted at the opera, and that he is very interested in making your acquaintance. He may even make you an offer."
Mira vigorously brushed Miss Cullpepper's fine blonde hair.
Miss Cullpepper looked at her with wide, fearful eyes. "But they say he is so cold!"
"Well." Mira thought for one moment. "It could just be a rumour. Why not reserve judgement until you actually meet the man?"
"Mira, I shall die of fright if I ever meet him!" Miss Cullpepper exclaimed. "I shall run away and hide! And then Mama will be terribly vexed with me because she very much wants me to marry the marquess, and if not him, then some other fancy l-l-lord." Her face crumpled.
"Oh dear." Mira set her brush aside, pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Miss Cullpepper, who volubly wept into it.
She watched her silently for a while, then shook her head.
