“This will not do,” she whispered to herself, and crossed to her bedside table. She snatched the book there and brought it to the fire where she could skim a few of the words better. Not that she needed to read them. She had pored over every word of this book,The Mirror of the Graces, since she had received it from her mother at the beginning of the Season. The pages of the etiquette manual were worn and dogeared from use, in fact.
“Meek dignity,” she read aloud. “Chastened sportiveness and gentle seriousness.”
She drew a deep breath and set the book down before she turned to look at herself in the mirror one final time. She was wearing just the right thing, at least according to her book, a muslin gown in white, just as all her gowns were. It was pretty, but not too showy. It was supposed to represent her goodness and virtue. Her hair was done properly, as well, in a demure yet pretty chignon at the base of her neck. Her cheeks, which she was careful to never let sun touch without protection, had been rouged, oh so very lightly, with carminein its powdered form. Yes, she looked…oh, how did the book put it?Wholesome. Yes, she looked wholesome.
“There is nothing else I can do,” she whispered to her reflection. She glanced at the clock on her mantel and sighed. It was time.
She left her chamber and took the winding route through the familiar halls of her childhood home. Over the years, she had watched the house become a little shabbier, though those things were covered up well enough for the gathering. It was up to her to raise the fortunes of her family. It always had been. She’d known that since she was twelve, almost a decade ago.
She reached the foyer and gave their longtime butler, Boulton, a smile. One she forced to fade more quickly than she might have once done. Her book had so many ideas on how friendly a lady should be to her servants, even ones she had adored since childhood.
“Your parents await you on the landing, Miss Lockhart,” Boulton said with a swift incline of his head before he handed over her hat.
She sighed as she placed it on her head and tied it at her chin. In years past, she might have forgone the headwear and greeted her guests more simply, but the sun was not to be borne by ladies’ skin, at least according to the author of her etiquette manual, so a hat it was.
She stepped outside and smiled at her parents. “Mama, Papa.”
“The first carriage is arriving,” her mother said with a nervous flutter to her hands. “Now, Clarissa, this is all for you, my dear. An opportunity Iknowyou won’t throw away after all we’ve done for you.”
Clarissa drew in a deep breath as the weight of pressure came down on her shoulders and made her feel like she was sinking into the stone of the steps. “Yes, Mama. Of course, Mama.”
Luckily, there was no more time for further advice or nerve-wracking observation from either of her parents, because the first carriage stopped along the drive and servants rushed forward to assist the guests.
Clarissa forced a serene smile to her lips for the gentleman who exited the carriage and reached back to help a lady do the same. It wasViscount Crossworth and his mother. She felt a little relief at that, for at least the viscount was not ancient, nor entirely boring. Her mother and father had begun to shove her into the way of almost any eligible man around with a title or a fortune, regardless of disparate ages or situations. And though she had little choice but to honor their desires, she still hoped that whomever she matched with would be someone whose company she could bear for a lifetime.
The viscount had finished his greetings to her parents and stepped over to her. He had blonde hair and dark brown eyes that flitted over her face for a moment before he said, “Miss Lockhart. I’m so pleased to see you. I think the last time we met was at that garden fete mid-Season.”
She nodded. “You’ve a good memory, my lord. I think you are exactly right. I’m so pleased you could join us.”
“As am I. You recall my mother, yes?”
She spoke for a moment to Lady Crossworth, after which they entered the house to be escorted to their chambers. The guests arrived swiftly then, as if they’d all left London at the same time and caravanned their way to her doorstep. She greeted a marquess, this one older than her father, a few second sons with elevated positions, and another viscount before there was a lull in the arrivals.
She turned toward her parents. “You’ve found yourself quite the crop of eligible gentlemen for this gathering,” she said carefully, trying not to offend even as she pressed her question. “Do we not worry that it will make it too obvious that you are on the hunt for a marriage for me?”
Her father shot her a side look. “Any lady worth her salt is always on the hunt for a marriage, Clarissa.”
Her mother nodded. “At any rate, it won’t all be gentlemen for you. Your cousin George will be here. And I invited the Earl and Countess of Ramsbury.”
Clarissa’s smile was more genuine now. “Oh, that’s lovely. I saw them at the opera at the beginning of the Season and congratulated them on their marriage. I do enjoy the countess’s company so much.”
“And now that she isn’t a spinster who could bring you down a peg, you can mine that friendship for the connections it could bring you,” Mrs. Lockhart insisted with a pat of her hand.
Clarissa pursed her lips and turned her face away. How she hated the mercenary aspects of her parents’ husband hunt. It had all grown all the worse in the last year, when Clarissa staggered into her third Season and they seemed to fear that meant she was failing.
Sometimes she felt the same, despite still being invited to every event and asked to dance by many gentlemen. Marriage was the only mark of success that mattered, and it was hard not to feel the sand of her life being pulled away, rushing her toward the next step when she would be bound to some man who would elevate her parents…and herself. Thoughshewas an afterthought.
“And I think that is your cousin now,” her mother said with a wave at the horses that were coming down the lane. “But who is with him?”
Clarissa lifted on her tiptoes to peer down the curve in the drive. Yes, it was George out front, she recognized her beloved cousin’s gait on his mount, but the second man was not known to her. “Perhaps one of the other gentlemen, come from London on a horse rather than in a carriage?” she suggested.
But as they neared, Mrs. Lockhart lifted a hand to her chest. “Oh, that is the Earl of Kirkwood, I believe. I didn’t think to invite him, myself. It’s well known he isn’t looking for a bride.”
Clarissa wrinkled her brow. “You didn’t invite him and yet he arrives with my cousin?” she repeated, and looked toward the rapidly approaching gentlemen again. “That is very rude, to come to a house party uninvited.”
Certainly her handbook would have said so. She narrowed her gaze as the men grew ever closer.
“Well, he’s rich and powerful,” Mr. Lockhart said with a quick glare in her direction. “Imagine if you could land the unlandable! You were certainly raise all fortunes by doing so.”
