“Only a month. I must return to Lyonsmere for Christmas. My brother will be home from Oxford and my mother has been…anxious to have us all together to welcome in 1817.”
Amelia purposefully spoke to Harewood. “You must have Lord Sommerset to the Noells’ masquerade after All Hallows Eve.” She switched her gaze to him, his eyes seeming so familiar after staring at them so long the day before. “You really must attend. It is the largest ball in Bedford before the end of the year.”
He smiled warmly. “Then I will be sure to have Lady Enderly include me in any acceptance of an invitation.” He turned his gaze to her mother. “Does Lady Wakefield attend? Lord Harewood told me that you are good friends.”
As her mother answered Sommerset’s question, she watched his expressions, trying to pinpoint what was missing from her sketch. It could simply be that she didn’t know him well enough to capture that part in her artwork quite yet.
Harewood had just begun an explanation of the purpose of the ball when Channing entered. “My lady. Lady Enderly, Lady Rose, and Lady Garmoyle.”
Amelia glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was the perfect time for calling, so why hadn’t Harewood waited for his mother?
As Lady Enderly entered, her mother rose to take her hands. “Lucinda, how simply wonderful of you to bring your daughter and guest. Your son was quick to have Lord Sommerset call.”
Lady Enderly’s gaze moved to her son. “So I was informed.” Her smile did not quite reach her eyes as she glanced at him. “When I discovered he had called on you so early, I quickly gathered my daughter, and Lady Garmoyle to come call. I must apologize for my son’s intrusion so early.”
As they were all introduced, Amelia wished she could capture the awkwardness of the assembled people. Harewood hardly seemed contrite as he sniffed loudly while Sommerset was clearly angry at the additional visitors. Lady Garmoyle, a tiny woman of dark coloring and pale complexion, grinned as if very pleased with the situation. Lady Rose, whom Amelia was well acquainted with, had blossomed over the past year into a lovely young woman with pretty blue eyes and chestnut hair. The younger woman had her debut last season, though no offers of marriage had yet been made. She grasped her mother’s hand once they were seated in what could only be construed as silent support. The entire scene would make an excellent tableaux for a canvas.
Her mother quickly ascertained the changing atmosphere and steered the conversation to Joanna’s delayed arrival. A duke visiting Bedford was quite the thing and the ladies quickly joined in. But Amelia focused on the men who stood side by side, Sommerset having risen to give his seat to Lady Garmoyle. Neither man looked pleased with the added company. She could only imagine what the environment was like at Sunnydale.
“Lady Amelia, have you not managed to catch a gentleman’s eye yet?”
At Lady Garmoyle’s question, she forced herself to look away from the men, but not before noticing a tightness in Sommerset’s jaw. “This past season was my first, and though I did have a couple of offers, I’m taking my time. It is an important choice to choose the man one will spend their life with.” She forced herself not to glance at Sommerset, keeping her focus solely on Lady Garmoyle.
“Oh my, you turned away two suitors?”
Her mother answered for her. “She turned down offers from two gentlemen. Her father and I agreed with her decisions. They weren’t right for her. She is still young, and hopefully, next season she will find her husband. I was in my third season before I made my choice. I would not have it any other way for my daughters.”
Lady Garmoyle frowned. “I cannot imagine allowing young women to choose their own husbands. My father chose mine, and I’m sure I would have been content with my husband if he had lived longer.” The woman lifted a finger to the corner of her eye. “Unfortunately, he died in a carriage accident shortly after we married.”
“And that is why we welcomed her as our guest this winter.” Lady Enderly gave Lady Garmoyle a sympathetic look. “Poor dear.”
But as Amelia dared a glance at the men standing quietly in the corner, there was no indication of sympathy from either of them. In fact, their stoic expressions mirrored each other, in concert for the first time since coming to call.
Harewood cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we must take our leave. We have many more calls to make today.” He bowed to her mother. “Lady Wakefield, it has been a pleasure to visit you and your daughter again.”
Taking his cue from Harewood, Sommerset moved forward. “I hope our paths will cross once again during my stay. Thank you for your hospitality, ladies.”
With that, the two men strode from the room. Though everyone watched them depart, she noticed a predatory gleam in Lady Garmoyle’s gaze. Did Sommerset know he had an admirer? She’d have to ask him at his next sitting. As the conversation turned to the masquerade, Amelia found herself wishing she could have left with the men. Then again, it was a small price to pay to assure Sommerset sat still during their last session. Hopefully, there would be no further requirements from him now that he knew what she could accomplish if he did his part.
At that thought, she imagined him leaning against a fireplace like the one in the room. He’d have to have that twinkle in his eye and his lips barely lifting in amusement.
“What will you go as, Lady Amelia?”
Lady Rose’s question forced her back into the conversation. “I’m not sure. I’ve always thought it would be enjoyable to dress as a muse.”
“Enjoyable? To dress as one of many with no particular name?” Lady Garmoyle looked down her nose at the suggestion. “I just learned of this masquerade, but I can think of a number of other people to dress as.”
The woman’s personality reminded her of her second art tutor. The tall, very thin man often looked down his large nose and pronounced her attempts plebeian at best. Yet whenever she asked why, he refused to tell her what she needed to do to improve. She soon figured out, he didn’t want her to improve so he could keep his position, which he didn’t. “What would your costume be?”
Lady Garmoyle raised her chin. “I would be Mother Nature, or Lady MacBeth.”
“Lady MacBeth? Why would you wish to disguise yourself as a woman who convinced her husband to murder the rightful king?”
The woman shook her head as if pitying her. “I have no care about what the lady did. The fact is she was a sympathetic heroine. That’s what young women should portray at a masquerade.”
Lady Macbeth was sympathetic? For the first time, she was thankful that Joanna had made her act in her Shakespeare plays. At least she knew Lady MacBeth was not sympathetic.
“I’d like to be dressed as a butterfly.” Lady Rose smiled clearly happy with her choice. “That way I can flit about without staying too long with one group.”
