“It is essential,” Lord Eskdale replied. “Wealth, to some degree, is respected. That said, I’m afraid Polite Society is not always polite. Being presented with us, however, should belay any less-than-kindly reactions to your presence.”
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “If you mean being generally looked down upon, I’ve already considered that possibility. Not that it would bother me. Rather, I wonder if my presence might reflect badly on you both.”
Lord Eskdale scoffed. “Not to anyone who matters,” he replied. “People will be curious, and they will speculate. However, I’ve been rather selective about which functions you will attend. In each case, the hosts are good friends of ours and tend to be, shall I say, lessjudgmentalof others.”
“I see,” Lydia said. “And what if, by chance, a gentleman asks to call on me?”
“I have considered that eventuality,” Lord Eskdale said, “and I would ask that you refer such a request to me. I shall, of course, respect your reaction to it, but for now, suffice to say we’ll deal with the issue if and when the issue arises.”
“It’ll be perfectly fine, my dear,” Lady Eskdale said. “Be assured, you’re not obliged to stay at any of these events if you find yourself unsettled or discomforted. If required, we will, of course, take you home.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I’m not easily rattled,” Lydia replied. “I’m actually looking forward to all this, no matter the outcome. So, when is the first event?”
“A week tomorrow,” Lady Eskdale replied, exchanging a glance with her husband. “A supper and dance hosted by Lord and Lady Trevelyan, but in their London house, of course.”
Lydia gasped. “Oh, what a wonderful coincidence. I’m sure they’ll remember my father.”
“They do,” Lady Eskdale replied, “they remember him, and you, very well.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes and cocked her head as an unsettling thought came to mind. “So, you already knew about my attending the event in Bath? But it was a coincidence, yes? Your choice of this event, I mean?”
Lord Eskdale tutted. “Of course,” he replied, and got to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some correspondence to take care of.”
“While Miss Page and I must discuss current fashions,” Lady Eskdale said. “May I assume you have a preferredmodiste, my dear?”
“I do, yes,” Lydia replied and then waited till Lord Eskdale left the room before speaking again. “Was it coincidental, my lady? Or have you been investigating me?”
Lady Eskdale chuckled. “No, of course we haven’t. Bear in mind, I’ve had personal dealings with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and I respect the lady and her judgments. The fact that she’s taken you under her wing is endorsement enough. I admit we were aware you’d met Lord and Lady Trevelyan before you told us, but it was, as Edward stated, entirely coincidental. They’re a lovely couple, generous to a fault, and they recognized your name immediately when we asked if we might bring you as a guest. We are simply being selective, my dear. In order to impress this friend of ours, or any other potential husband for that matter, you need to be at ease and enjoying yourself, don’t you agree?”
It was all part of the game, Lydia supposed. “Yes, I agree,” she replied.
Lady Eskdale smiled. “Good. Now, what to wear…”
Chapter Nine
Lord and LadyTrevelyan’s ball was well underway. Ambrose folded his arms, leaned against the pillar of an arch, and watched the couples on the dance floor. Well, one couple in particular. He was not alone in his observation. Currently partnered with Sir Neville Albright, Miss Lydia Page had already attracted a fair amount of attention, much of it driven by sheer curiosity. Who was this audacious, golden-haired commoner who had arrived in the company of Viscount and Viscountess Eskdale? A wealthy heiress, inarguably lovely to look upon, but without a drop of noble blood in her veins. A corner of Ambrose’s mouth quirked. If they only knew what had led to it.
This would be Miss Page’s fourth time on the dance floor, he noted. Four dances in succession, in fact, with four different partners, none of them suitable in his opinion. Not that he cared, of course.
“I’d wed and bed her.”
Ambrose glanced to his left, where Lord Marmaduke Walston, glass in hand, had his eyes fixed on the dance floor.
“Who?” Ambrose replied, feigning ignorance.
Walston snorted. “You know damn well who, Pendlewood. You were staring at her just now. Can’t blame you, either. She’s averitable feast for the eyes and worth a fortune as well. Makes it easy to overlook her common roots.”
“Ah, you mean Miss Page.” Ambrose pushed off the pillar and straightened. “Yes, I’ve been watching her. Just curious, like everyone else.”
Another snort. “You and Eskdale are good friends, so tell me, what’s the catch?”
“Catch?’
“Yes. Why is she here with him?” Walston downed the contents of his glass. “And, come to think of it, why aren’t you dancing with her?”
Ambrose’s hackles began to bristle. “Not interested.”
Walston frowned. “Actually, now I think about it, I haven’t seen you dance with anyone.”
