“The party commences in four days.”
At this, her mother jerked her chin up and stared at her with disbelieving brown eyes, so similar to her own.
Rhoda plowed ahead, undeterred. “His Grace has invited someveryeligible bachelors.” Sophia had informed her the duke had invited Mr. White—Lord Carlisle, she’d do well to remember. The very day after Sophia had informed her of this piece of news, an announcement had appeared in the papers. And Lord Blakely would be in attendance, although she’d wager that particular bachelor would refuse to marry until he became an octogenarian.
“Hmph.” Her mother did not seem entirely convinced. Well, of course not.
“Two unattached earls, Mother.”
A gleam of excitement emerged behind her mother’s eyes. This was not the first time Rhoda had witnessed this effect. If there was one thing that excited her mother these days, it was the prospect of Rhoda landing a title. “Who?”
“Um, Lord Blakely,” she began.
“That rake!” Her mother wasn’t all that impressed, apparently. But then she twisted her lips and scrunched up her nose. Lord Blakely was anearl, after all. “Well, I suppose he’s going to have to marry eventually. And who is the other? Certainly not the new one?”
“Yes, Mother, the vicar, Mr. Justin White. He is now Lord Carlisle.”
“Hmm…” Her mother set her knitting in the basket beside her. “Quite often a lady shows better away from the crowded balls. Gentlemen are less distracted and more able to notice those finer characteristics. And this will be hosted in Kent? By the Duchess of Prescott?”
“In four days. Coleus and Hollyhock are invited as well. Sophia says it will be mostly informal.”
And when such news reached their ears, both of her sisters went to work on Rhoda’s behalf. Rhoda grinned as she watched them swarm around their mother.
“Please, Mama!” Hollyhock clutched her hands to her chest, looking quite sorrowful really.
“There is nothing for us to do here! Until you allow me to come out, London offers me nothing but tediousness.” Coleus dropped to her knees. “Please, Mother, please?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Coleus.” Her mother rolled her eyes heavenward.
Before two minutes passed, however, her mother was shaking her head. “Give me the dates, dear. I’ll send notice to the hostesses I’ve already accepted. Excepting the garden party tomorrow, however. I do expect you to make the most of such a picturesque setting. Just in case.”
“Of course, Mother.”
It had been decided.
The Mossant ladies would be attending the Duchess of Prescott’s midseason house party.
A Good Dunking
Without Emily—who’d cried off at the last moment—by her side, Rhoda had no choice but to attend the Snodgrass Garden party with her mother.
She wore one of her newer day dresses, a creation she’d collected the day before from Madam Chantal’s shop. Not given to false modesty, Rhoda knew the bold jonquil yellow color set off her hair and skin perfectly. It even drew out the little golden flecks of light in her plain brown eyes.
Not many women could carry off such tones, Madam had effused, while draping the material down Rhoda’s front. Rhoda would be envied.
Rhoda smoothed her skirts while an unusual collection of nerves attacked her as her mother alighted from their coach.
She’d received an inordinate amount of attention at the Crabtrees’ ball. And then so many flowers arrived afterward.
She didn’t trust any of it—not the dance offers, nor the bouquets. Despite the gorgeous weather and the prospect of a delightful party, Rhoda wished she were already in Kent.
“You will outshine all the other ladies here today.” Rhoda’s mother grasped her by the elbow and led them around the path other guests were already following. “I must admit, Madam Chantal has outdone herself with that one,” she added with a sideways glance at the new dress.
“And yours.” Rhoda reached out to touch the fine silk of her mother’s understated day dress in deep Pomona green.
For a moment, Rhoda experienced a nostalgic comfort of going somewhere with her mother. Perhaps the familiar scent of her mama’s perfume brought it on. Mrs. Mossant had worn the same scent as long as Rhoda could remember.
“Such a shame St. John didn’t live to see you in it.”
