“We don’t, but I knowofthem,” Dara said with rising excitement. “This is the invitation everyone wants. They say it is one of the most important balls of the Season.”
“And we are invited? By people we don’t know? Without being introduced?” Elise asked. She looked to Tweedie. “Do you know them?”
“I have never heard of Lord Royston.”
Elise scrunched her nose in thought. “Then why did he send us an invitation?”
“Does it matter?” Dara said. She took the invite from Gwendolyn, wanting to feel the paper and see the words scratched upon it.
Lord and Lady Royston request your presence...
Magic words. And it didn’t matter to Dara how it had happened. What was important was that all her planning was finally bearing fruit. “My sisters, we are entering Society. We have arrived.”
Chapter Five
The lines of Society are not imaginary. Do not speak until introduced, do not laugh loudly, do not frown, do not make eye contact until after introductions.
The Rules (according to Dara)
Perhaps it would be easier if we all wore sacks over our heads?
Tweedie’s suggestion
When they left Willow Street for the Royston ball, Dara believed that she and her sisters, and even Tweedie, had never looked finer. The sisters wore their white muslin dresses in the Grecian style. Each had spent the afternoon trimming their gowns with ribbons, which they also used to style their hair. Gwendolyn’s ribbons were a soft rose, Elise’s a clear sapphire, and Dara’s were the green of summer grass.
They chattered with excitement as they set off for the ball in their hired hack. They had accomplished their goal. They were making their wayinto Society—and who knew what could come after this first endeavor? Dara had promised them they would marry dukes. Perhaps they would.
However, the closer they came to Royston House’s grand and well-lit doors, the quieter they grew as a few home truths became evident. “No one is arriving in a hack,” Gwendolyn said, something Dara had already fretfully observed.
They had joined a line of stately coaches and dashing carriages waiting their turn to deliver their passengers in front of the magnificent house. “I’m sure someone is,” Dara answered, desperately praying that was true.
“It don’t appear that way,” Tweedie responded, accenting her words with a hiccup—a sign she might have had a nip or two? She clapped a gloved hand over her lips as if she’d been caught. “So sorry.” She lowered her hand apologetically. “Shouldn’t have spoken. I’m feeling a bit nervous.”
Dara wished she’d thought to have a nip herself, especially once they were close enough to inspect the other guests climbing the stairs to the doors. The torchlight reflected off of jewels and highlighted silks, lace, and figured velvets. There were headdresses of bobbing ostrich feathers and headbands of gold and silver—and that is when it struck Dara that instead of being very fine, she and her small family appeared hopelessly provincial and out of fashion.
They were wearing ribbons. How could ribbons compare to sapphires and pearls?
Gwendolyn’s hand clasped hers as if asking for courage. Elise had linked an arm in Tweedie’s, both of them wearing expressions of doubt.
Well, it was too late to turn back now. Dara knew it was up to her to give them courage. “Heads high. We are the Lanscarrs from Wicklow,” she managed.
“I wish I was back there right now,” Elise murmured.
“No,we don’t,” Dara answered, meaning those words. Then she added, more for herself than her sisters, “Good things will happen this night.Goodthings.”
“I fear we are out of our class,” Gwendolyn said.
No one argued. Not even Dara.
A bewigged footman in fancy red-and-black livery trimmed in silver opened the hack door. With a bow, he held out a gloved hand to Dara, who was sitting closest to the door.
She drew a fortifying breath and placed her palm in his, conscious that those in the queue behind their vehicle were now observing her. She let the cool night air wash over her uneasiness before smiling proudly as the footman helped her beautiful sisters out of the vehicle.
Gwendolyn took Tweedie’s arm and, while holding the invitation in her free hand, helpedtheir great-aunt up the stairs toward the front door and a waiting receiving line.
There was one horrid moment when Tweedie’s flask fell out of her pocket. Dara felt a flash of panic. But then, a quick footman standing along the stairs snatched up the flask and discreetly passed it to Elise before resuming his pose of formality. In an undervoice, he whispered, “Happens all the time.”
Tweedie looked back at Dara as if to say,See, it happens all the time.
