As much as she enjoyed playing the game of social politics in London, it was done from a sense of duty. Lillian was woeful in the kind of social circles she needed to be able to move in, to secure a husband. Clara was worse, preferring to spend her time on the farms of the Harrington estate, learning about the care of livestock.
And Aunt Charlotte indulges her, much to Uncle George’s chagrin, I know. But he will not speak, and in the meantime, Clara and Lillian could end up on the shelf for years, living off their parents. And then what?
“Thank you, Uncle. It is quite spectacular, is it not? And Lillian, one of the invites has been to Viscount Holmesley and he is bringing the Duke of Lorchester as his guest. I do not know much of the Duke but I do know that he is unmarried,” Violet said.
“Would it not be fairer foryouto consider him, as you are also unmarried?” Lillian said.
“Lillian, I have little to offer to a man like that. Whereas you come from a noble family of high standing in England.”
“And a dowry at your back as well,” George said. “Not that we wouldn’t stand Violet a dowry too…”
“And I would refuse it, Uncle George. You have done enough in taking me in as a babe in arms, orphan that I was.”
“Yes, well, the Duke of Lorchester, Lillian. A man who I believe has recently been active in the Lords, I have not heard any of his speeches myself but it says a lot for him that he is willing to do his duty.”
Lillian rolled her eyes, crossing the room to a chair by the fire. “He sounds fascinating, I am sure. And I do not mean to sound ungrateful but…well it is just that this business of mixing with the Ton, playing the complicated games they play. It is so alien to me. I cannot even begin to imagine how such games are played.”
“Then listen to your sister and she will instruct you,” George said.
Cousin. Let us be correct. I am cousin to your daughters and niece to you, Uncle George.Violet sighed.
“It does not come naturally or easy to many of us. But it will come, I promise. And you will find yourself sought after by many eligible young bachelors.”
“While you remain a spinster?” Lillian asked.
Violet went to her, taking her hands and sitting on the pouf opposite the chair.
“Lillian, do not worry about me. I am quite happy with my position within society. It is far more than I deserve given my background and…” She glanced at George who was studiously examining the silverware. “…the fact that my parentage is not known. I am lower than an illegitimate child. At least then I would still know who my father was.”
Lillian studied the rings that she wore on the fingers of both hands. It was a tradition handed down from her mother and grandmother, that each child added a ring to one that was inherited from those who came before. Lillian had an emerald from her mother and an onyx from her grandmother, as well as a sapphire she had purchased with profits from her first shipping investment. Now, she toyed with that ring as if remembering the circumstances that had led to her owning it.
“It is easy for you, Violet. It is very frightening for me. I just do not know what to say or how to say it even if I had the words. With business, it is much easier. I read the ledgers and the accounts. I read the Financial Times and I understand the currents of the markets. It is straightforward. I do not see why a woman cannot be allowed to make her way in the business world like a man.”
She sounded sullen now and Violet felt sympathy for her. George snorted.
“Because that is not how things are done. Resign yourself to that fact. Business is for men. I made a mistake when I allowed you to follow me, learning about the estates and where our money comes from.”
“Because you treated me like the son you never had,” Lillian said.
George looked abashed. “Perhaps I did. Eldest child and all that.”
Lillian and Violet were of the same age as each other. Violet was slightly older, as far as she knew. But, they had grown up together as sisters, although their looks could not be more different.
“I propose to help you, Lillian. My own skill lies in integrating with the Ton, though I do say so myself.”
“It does, indeed, Violet. A finer politician than half of the oafs in Parliament,” George blustered, pacing the room as was his habit, unable to remain still for very long in any circumstance.
“So, remain close to me and pay attention. Do what I do and, I promise, you will soon marvel at how you found it to be so difficult.”
I do not think it will be so easy for you Lillian. But if I show confidence in you, I hope you will see it in yourself.
Within an hour, guests began to arrive. The two Ravendel girls greeted them in the long, narrow, tall ceilinged hall of the family’s Bloomsbury house on Great Russell Street. Violet greeted a Viscount, Baron, and Earl along with their respective companions. Lillian followed in her cousin’s footsteps and escorted the respective guests to the dining room where George Ravendel, head of the family, awaited to welcome them to his home. Violet gave Lillian a surreptitious smile and a comforting squeeze of the hand as she asked her to lead the first guests to the dining room.
Lillian left with a pale face and a wavering voice, but she tried making small talk with a smile fit to burst. She practically ran back, wiping at her brow and giving Violet a harassed smile. Then came the Viscount Holmesley, his wife, and their…guest. Violet found herself standing frozen, a smile painted on her face and her hand outstretched to shake the hands of the last guests. Her eyes were fixed on the veritable giant who loomed in the doorway behind the slender Viscount.
The Duke of Lorchester was not excessively tall, though he was surely six foot if he was an inch. But he was broad and that gave him a sense of physicality such as Violet had rarely seen in a man. Most men of the Ton or the county set in Surrey, were slender or stout. None were…powerful. The Duke looked as though he were made of stone. His long dark hair and untamedbeard made Violet think of the stories she had read of Danes and Vikings that had once ravaged England’s shores. Or of marauding Scots, such as those who had invaded in the previous century, marching for the cause of the Stuarts.
He bowed over her hand, holding it in a surprisingly gentle grip, and when he rose from the bow, his eyes met hers. They were dark, almost black, and gazed from above a hawk-like nose and cheeks that were curiously marked with crisscrossing white scars, faint, but visible nonetheless.
