She was presented to an elderly dowager duchess who blinked at her, then peered at her through her lorgnette. “A Cavendish, eh? A descendent of William Cavendish?”
Hetty swallowed. “William? ah, that is, I am not sure.”
The lady touched her old-fashioned wig with a hand. “I refer to the Duke of Devonshire who lived in Berkley Square at one time.”
“Then no, I don’t believe so,” Hetty said, yearning to move on.
The dowager duchess nodded. “Then it must be Henry Cavendish, 2ndDuke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne’s side of the family.”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Hetty cast an anguished glance around for Guy.
The lady frowned. “Lady Margaret Cavendish, who married John Holles Earl of Clare?”
Hetty lifted her chin. “The Digswell Cavendishes, actually.”
“TheDigswellCavendishes?” Lady Wotherspoon lowered her lorgnette and raised her thin brows.
Lady Eleanor placed a hand on Hetty’s arm. “You must excuse us, Lady Wotherspoon. Miss Cavendish has many guests yet to meet.”
Hetty’s nape felt moist as she was led around the room and finally left with Lady Georgina. “You look all in,” she said, and gestured to a satin sofa by the window.
Hetty gratefully sat after Lady Georgina told Guy to go away, quite rudely Hetty thought. The earl’s younger sister sat beside her, smoothing her dainty muslin skirts. She was a beautiful and elegant young lady, very much at home in her surroundings. And this setting took one’s breath away. Huge oil paintings dressed the burgundy papered walls, and glorious painted landscapes edged with gilt molding on the ceiling.
“You must tell me all about yourself,” Lady Georgina said.
As she tried to order her thoughts, Lady Eleanor joined them. “What have you enjoyed most in London, Miss Cavendish?”
“I have yet to see it,” Hetty confessed. “I have been busy having a new wardrobe made.”
“That is very pretty,” Georgina said, eyeing Hetty’s gown. “I should be happy to introduce you to Madame Celeste if you wish to have more gowns and hats made. Eleanor and I won’t step out of the door without something fashioned by the Frenchwoman.”
“Thank you,” Hetty said weakly, acknowledging the criticism. It seemed her gown was pretty but not quite up to the mark.
Eleanor frowned at her younger sister. “Have you known Lord Fortescue long?”
“No. Only since he came to Digswell.”
“It has been a fast courtship, then,” Georgina said. Her eyes filled with light. “Love at first sight?”
“You are such a romantic Georgina,” Lady Eleanor said. “And it is really none of your business.”
Georgina pouted. “Then I shall take myself off.”
Hetty drew in a deep breath, relieved when she flounced away.
Lady Eleanor put a hand on Hetty’s arm. “She means well. She’s young and impulsive. Were you not the same at seventeen?”
Hetty smiled and nodded, but she doubted she had ever been like Lady Georgina. Left alone with Lady Eleanor, their conversation turned to poetry and the hour passed more pleasurably.
Then Guy returned to her side and stayed for the rest of the evening.
“Well, how was it?” he asked as they drove home.
“I was utterly terrified.”
He laughed. “You had no need to be. Lady Eleanor sang your praises before we left.”
“I like her very much. Where is her husband?”
