In any case, if Vincent’s heart was broken, if he missed her, then he could have written to her. Instead, weeks had passed, and people were starting to return to London. While the latest outbreak had been in the poorer area of Soho, directly east of Mayfair proper, it was close enough that those living in the wealthier neighborhoods were still nervous. Her parents were considering their return in another fortnight after daily scrutiny of the newspapers.
“A water supply at the crossroads of Broad Street and Cambridge Street has been determined as the source of the cholera,” her father read over breakfast. “Consequently, the pump handle has been ordered removed by the eminent physician John Snow.”
“That capable nurse, Miss Nightingale, is treating many patients at Middlesex Hospital,” her mother added.
A miracle, Brilliance thought, that someone had isolated and identified the problem in a city the size of London. Her only hesitation over returning to their Piccadilly home was that Vincent wouldn’t know where she was.What if he came to Oak Grove Hall looking for her?
“Stop moping,” her mother said for the umpteenth time.
“I am not moping,” Brilliance protested. “I am sulking.”
“Then stop sulking. You had a summer romance. You are not the first, nor the last girl to place her hopes in a man who turned out not to appreciate her.”
Brilliance had not told her parents all the details, only that she had inadvertently disappointed and angered Lord Hewitt. Thus, he would not be paying a visit anytime soon. At least when they reached London, she would be nearer to him by many miles and have all her old distractions. The Crystal Palacehad reopened, and there were new plays and concerts for the upcoming winter.
And, of course, there were balls. More opportunities to wear her gold ballgown. As so few people had seen it at Lady Twitchard’s home, it was practically new.
After nearly eight weeks in Derby, they moved home, and Brilliance engaged herself in all the activities of the final three months of the year. There was no shortage of entertaining diversions, and she tried her best not only to enjoy her friends but also the gentlemen who paid her attention.
“I am so glad everything is back to normal,” Martine said as they stood together at Lord St. Claire’s ball, having admired each other’s gowns. Nearby, their mothers were busy catching up on their personal news.
Her friend had arrived in London a day after Brilliance. Seeing Martine for the first time since Bexley Hall caused many memories to come flooding back, both pleasant and not. It must have been the same for Martine, who remarked, “Neither of us found a match in the country. Lord Patterson was a scoundrel!”
“How do you mean?” Brilliance asked.
“Because he did not favor me over the other ladies.”
They laughed. That hardly made him a scoundrel, merely a man of dubious taste in women. For Martine was superior to anyone as far as Brilliance was concerned.
“Then you were fortunate,” she said, “because the more we came to know him, the more insufferable he became.”
“How true,” Martine agreed. “I thought, however, given your happy letter to me, that you had made a conquest,” she added, tapping her toe as the musicians warmed up before the first dance.
“A conquest?” Brilliance repeated, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t wish to discuss Vincent. That had been more of a stunning defeat than anything.
“Yes, with our hostess’s cousin. While I thought Lord Hewitt a bit intense, even severe, he brightened around you. But then your sweet nature makes everything better.”
Brilliance couldn’t help hugging Martine, even as tears welled in her eyes.
“That is very kind of you. I am grateful to have you as my dear friend.”
“Why the emotion?” Martine asked, looking surprised. “You must know what a delight you are and how much you are admired.”
Brilliance could only shake her head, her throat clogged with sentiment. Briefly, she had let Vincent’s harsh words dim her own confidence, but she had quickly rallied. For she was a Diamond and had been comfortable in her own skin, assured of her worth, all her life.
Thus, when the ballroom manager, hired by Lord and Lady St. Claire to handle the occasion, brought two handsome gentlemen over for introductions, Brilliance lifted her chin and prepared to dance. The ball had begun in earnest.
Many hours later, Brilliancefell into bed, happily humming the final tune in her head. While she had never stopped thinking of Vincent, she had, at least, smiled, which she hadn’t done in ages. She had also danced for the first time since the Bexley ball — her last dance being withhim— and yet, she had managed to feel a measure of contentment with some of her partners.
Not one had provided the immediate attraction she’d experienced upon first seeing Vincent in Lady Twitchard’sconservatory. Yet she had to accept she might never experience such a swift and definite yearning again.
And she would accept it, for Brilliance still intended to become a wife, and the sooner she stopped mooning over the man she had lost, the better.
Besides, she desired someone who saw her the way Martine did, with admiration and genuine affection. Brilliance snuggled in her bed, deciding she would settle for nothing less — certainly not someone who considered her a dunderhead.
And that made it easier the following day to look through the calling cards and allow a gentleman whom she’d danced with the honor of visiting her.
Lord Redley was the son of a friend of her parents. She had met him once before in the spring. And after they had danced at the St. Claires’ ball, she realized he was a good man. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome in a classic way, with trimmed brown hair and a strong jaw. His brown eyes were not distorted nor obscured behind spectacles.
