“And why did you not properly debut, young lady?”the woman asked.Johanna had already forgotten her name, among the many that had been given to her during introductions, and she hoped she would not be required to use it.
“My mother has been ill,” she said quietly, as Lady Stark had instructed her to.
“Which is why I am currently her chaperone,” Lady Stark said, smoothly sliding back into the conversation.“The rest of the family will be arriving shortly for the wedding, of course.”
And because they could not keep living where they had been.But Johanna could not say that, of course.
According to Lady Stark, she and the Duke of St.Albans had a highly romantic story—love nearly at first sight, the duke languishing without her once he’d returned from the house party, then running off to fetch her when he could not bear to be apart.
“I bet his blasted coin told him to,” one of the young ladies muttered, just loud enough for Johanna to hear, though it was likely out of Lady Stark’s earshot.Especially since she was still talking to the lady with the lorgnette.
Since Johanna was fairly certain the debutante was not wrong, she just pretended not to have heard the remark.Already she’d noted the duke’s predilection for letting his lucky coin lead his way, and there had been enoughsotto vocejests from those around the carriage about whether or not he’d consulted the coin for his bride that she’d realized his habit was mostly common knowledge.
“Your eyes are like pools of violet,” one of the young men said, stepping up to the side of the landau.He was younger than the duke and very handsome, with floppy blond hair and kind hazel eyes.Unlike the duke, who wore a jacket of plum with a light-plum waistcoat, the young man was clothed in nearly all black, except the crisp white of his shirt.“Your hair like spun cornsilk.”
“That does not even make sense,” the duke said, suddenly leaning forward and glaring at the young man from across Johanna.“You cannot have pools of violet; flowers are not a liquid.”
The young man frowned back at him, his feathers ruffled from being interrupted.
“It’s poetry, Your Grace, it does not have to be exact,” he said haughtily.
“It should also not be poppycock.”St.Albans made a waving motion at him, dismissing the young man entirely.“Go work on your verse and stop bothering my fiancée.”
Johanna was not particularly bothered, more bemused that Lady Stark had been correct about the poetry, but she did not want her soon-to-be husband to be upset with her, either.Something about the poet was upsetting him because he was not the genial, smiling figure that she had come to know him for.
“Thank you for the poetry,” she said to the young man, whose face fell as he recognized the dismissal in her voice as well.“But we must be getting on soon, I think.I have an invitation to tea that I should not miss.”
Lady Stark—despite being deep in conversation with one of her friends—had sharp ears.She heard Johanna’s remark and immediately took out her pocket watch to consult.
“Oh, yes, tea.We must be going.”
Despite Lady Stark’s announcement, it took another half hour to untangle themselves from the crowd, and Johanna was very relieved she’d said something.She had only been trying to rescue the young man from the duke’s displeasure and spare his feelings, but it turned out she had spoken true about needing to leave to make it to Lady Astrid’s in time for tea.
Even with that, she was a few minutes late.
The duke escorted her up to the house, with an explanation that he would take his grandmother home.His hand held on to hers for a moment longer than was quite polite, and she stared up at him as the oddest expression crossed his face.
He really was very handsome.Much more so than the poet in Hyde Park.Even now, when he was being more serious rather than smiling.His dark eyes studied hers, his eyelids drooping for just a moment…
Johanna’s breath caught in her throat.Surely, he was not going to kiss her, standing here on the Blackstones’ stoop, his grandmother watching them from the landau.
The door opened, and the butler was standing there.
“Your Grace,” he said immediately, bowing deeply and breaking the moment.Johanna’s breath left her in a rush of air as the duke nodded, then released her hand.
“I’ll return in a few hours for you,” he said sharply, turning on his heel and hurrying back to the carriage.
The behavior seemed quite unlike him… but then, she did not know him all that well, did she?
“Lady Johanna.Welcome to the London house,” the butler said, leading her in.“The young ladies are having their tea in the conservatory.”
Something about the way he said it as she followed him down the hall made her think that there was probably a group of older ladies with Lady Astrid’s mother, also having tea, elsewhere in the house.
The conservatory was lush with greenery and bright with flowers, the subtle scents wreathing through the air.The path through the potted plants and beds of flowers was a pretty mix of stones that was aesthetically pleasing despite the mix of shapes, sizes, and colors.
Laughter reached Johanna’s ears before she saw the other ladies, and she steeled herself… before being suffused with relief when they passed by a large fronded plant to find a clearing among the greenery where a table had been set, and she saw the women gathered.The cream tablecloth had a copper silk runner on it, a large orange and dark-yellow flower arrangement in the center, and piles of small sandwiches, scones, and biscuits on serving platters spread about its surface.There were six chairs around the table, five of which had an occupant already in them.
Lady Astrid sat directly across from the path’s entrance, so she saw Johanna the moment she appeared.
