“I don’t see that it should be kept secret. It’s twenty thousand pounds.”
Hetty’s mouth dropped open. Poor father! It must be every penny he had in the world. A good thing perhaps that he’d never have to pay it.
“I’d be happy to pay for your gown.”
“No, Guy, I won’t let you.”
“And why not? As your fiancé…”
“But you aren’t. I mean, not really.”
“To all intents and purposes, I am.”
“I shall never be able to repay you.”
He gave her a quick look, his expression warm, before returning to watch the road. “How am I ever to repay you for saving my life?”
There he goes again!Hetty wasn’t sure why she found his gratitude so disconcerting. Was that all he felt for her? “It was nothing,really.”
“Well, that’s all very well for you,” he said with a grin. “But I happen to value my life.”
They joined a line of carriages and traveled down the South Carriage Drive. Hetty became engrossed in viewing the fashionable set, the ladies in their spring bonnets and apparel. They craned their necks to view her, making her cringe and wish she wore something better than her old muslin. At least her aunt had lent her a stylish Italian straw bonnet adorned with cherries and red ribbons to match her red velvet spencer.
Several couples ambled through the park, enjoying the unusually warm day, and a rider cantered down Rotten Row.
Hetty sighed. “I should love to ride. My aunt is to take me to a tailor for a new habit.”
“And when you have it, we shall ride. I can’t leave the horses today or we could walk. Shall we come back next week?”
“Yes, I should like that.” Her mind was already on the soiree, apart from the theatre where she’d been safely ensconced within a small party, this was her first experience of theton. What would they make of her?
Chapter Thirteen
The modiste hadtriumphed, delivering the gown by Thursday afternoon. Hetty adored the cream silk evening gown, lavishly decorated with silk gauze and floral work. On Friday evening, Aunt Emily’s maid, Sarah, did wonders with Hetty’s hair, confining her curls with a stylish bandeau. Hetty wore white satin slippers, white French kid gloves, and the pearl necklace and earrings which had been her mother’s. She carried her aunt’s ivory fan and a white silk reticule decorated with silver spangles and tassels. Never having been dressed in the first stare of fashion, she quite looked forward to Guy’s reaction.
She stood when his carriage stopped in the street, patted her hair, and smoothed her skirts. He walked into the parlor and stopped, his gaze was like a physical touch, and her heart jolted. “You look beautiful, Hetty.” He kissed her trembling fingers and turned to compliment her aunt before whisking her away.
Hetty studied him in the dim glow of the carriage lamps. How handsome he looked in his dark evening clothes, his crisp cravat white against his throat. “We’ve hardly seen you this week. Did you find a house?”
“No. I’ve been hiring staff for the hall. I now have a decent steward who will take some of the weight off my shoulders.”
“Oh, that is good. Who will be there tonight?” she asked, willing herself to relax. She felt as if she was about to be thrown to the wolves.
“Apart from the earl and his sisters, I have no idea.” He patted her hand. “Everyone will approve of you. You have no need to worry.”
Hetty opened her mouth, then closed it. Why would they approve of her? She was a country girl, she didn’t know much about society or the rules they lived by. Etiquette came as naturally to them as breathing.
Berkley Square consisted of huge mansions built around a private park. When a liveried footman came to take the reins from Guy, she stepped down with trepidation.
Guy took her arm and led her into the long drawing room, filled with exquisitely dressed guests who all turned to look at her.
Lady Eleanor came to greet them. “How nice to see you again, Miss Cavendish.”
Hetty curtsied. “It was good of you to invite me.”
“I should like you to meet some of my guests. Lord Fortescue is not known to some.”
They were then taken around the room and introduced. The guests were coolly polite, for as a guest of the earl’s sister, they would never risk offense. But Hetty saw through the veneer to the condescension beneath.
