Caroline fastened on her cloak at the sound of a carriage coming up the drive then helped her friend on with hers. “Thank you again for acting as my chaperone.” At twenty-four, Malvinia Teague was only four years her senior and single, but she was a shy lady who didn’t have a cunning bone in her body. Herinability to lie convincingly had earned her the confidence of nervous parents everywhere.
“I’m happy to,” Malvinia replied in a tone that barely met the definition of the word. “My evening would otherwise have been spent mending by the fire.” An activity Malvinia often preferred over social events.
Caroline hid a smile. “If nothing else, it’ll give you something to talk about for at least a month. Mrs. Abernathy throws interesting parties.” She always managed to include some odd diversion.
“Oh, yes. I heard she had a trained monkey perform at one.”
“She did. And at another, a man who—for over an hour—whistled works by the great composers.” Caroline shook her head. Hopefully, with it being so close to Christmas, their hostess would settle for something more common, like a singer or a magician.
A knock echoed through the foyer as Caroline finished pulling on her gloves. “That must be Mr. Duffy.”
“I’ve yet to meet him, but I’ve wanted to,” Malvinia said in a near-whisper, “if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Of course, not.” Caroline opened the door to Walsh, all buttoned up in a long wool coat and smiling. “Good evening, Mr. Duffy.”
Walsh tipped his hat with black, gloved fingers—kid, by the look of it. “Good evening, Miss Bennet.” He backed up as the women stepped out onto the porch.
“Mr. Duffy,” Caroline said, “may I make known to you my friend, Malvinia Teague. Miss Teague, this is Mr. Walsh Duffy.”
He inclined his head to her. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Teague.”
Malvinia blushed and looked up at him without lifting her face. “I’m pleased to meet you, too.”
“I assumed one of Miss Bennet’s brothers would accompany her tonight,” he went on in a congenial tone. “Her choice is an unexpected delight.”
The color in Malvinia’s cheeks rose to match the red tip of her nose.
Walsh held his hat on his head and ducked his chin deeper into the collar of his overcoat when a cold gust of wind blew. “Shall we go?”
The ladies wrapped themselves tightly in their cloaks and followed him to the waiting carriage. He handed them up to the rear bench, which provided some cover, then climbed onto the driver’s seat and took up the reins. Frigid air chilled every sliver of exposed skin once he set the conveyance in motion, and clouds of white puffed from horses’ noses as they trotted down the road.
A quarter hour later, he guided them up the drive, toward his aunt’s house. The carriage’s lantern paled amid the many exterior gas lamps and light spilling from the windows.
After handing the reins off to a groom, Walsh helped them down and escorted them up the steps.
Warmth poured out of the foyer when he opened the door, along with sounds of music and conversation. The heat was so welcome Caroline hurried inside, all but dragging Malvinia with her. A silent prayer of thanks went up when Walsh sealed them in.
“Your dress is quite striking,” he said to Caroline as they removed their coats. “Is this the Christmas dress you spoke of?”
“It is,” she replied, smoothing her free hand, gloved in white silk, over ripples of deep red velvet that had been painstakingly adorned with golden thread. Walsh’s attire was notable, too—a three-piece ensemble made from upscale fabrics. “Did you commission your suit from Greenvale’s tailor?”
“The very one.” He looked down and splayed a gloved hand over the sapphire silk damask waistcoat peeking from beneath his jacket of fine black wool. “Hiring someone new was a bit unnerving, but I must say I’m impressed with his work.”
“You should be. Your suit is very flattering.” It truly was. The creation gave a nod to the current roomy trend without appearing baggy.
Walsh turned to Malvinia, who had chosen a copper silk dress she already owned and embellished it with black beads for the event. “Yours is lovely, as well.”
“Thank you, but–”
“I agree!” Caroline cut in before her friend could expose her outfit as one resurrected from a previous season. “It complements her hair. Don’t you think?”
“It most certainly does,” Walsh replied as Malvinia blushed and touched a black silk glove to her glossy ebony ringlets.
Mrs. Abernathy bustled up to them as they entered the parlor, bedecked in a showy gown of peacock blue and purple brocade. “Walsh, Ithoughtthat was you I heard. Come join the party. You, too, Miss Bennet. And Miss Teague, what an unexpected surprise. Welcome!”
Caroline noted a few raised brows as she walked deeper into the congested room with her companions.
“Would you look at that,” a woman remarked from behind her, in a volume approaching a stage whisper and a tone of unmistakable disdain. “I don’t know why she bothered with a chaperone.”
