Page 24 of Courting the Country Miss

Perhaps she trod on dangerous ground, but it might also appeal to the adventurous. If Elizabeth and Richard endorsed it, others would view it as acceptable. Besides, the Averstons always invited the most respected people among the beau monde to their parties.

Leticia moistened her lips. “If a gentleman wishes to dance with a particular lady, he must pay for a dance. Or better yet, have an auction. We’ll make it clear that it is for charity. Everyone will take note of who was the most generous and what lady garnered the highest bid.”

Elizabeth paled. “Oh dear. That may be embarrassing for some. What if a lady doesn’t get a high bid?”

Leticia sorted her thoughts as they tumbled out. “We could have a team of rescuers: gentlemen who have agreed ahead of time to drive up bids and ensure each lady gets a respectable bidding. You know Richard would do it, and Tristan would as well. I’d wager Captain Kensington would, too. I believe if we put our heads together, we can find enough gentlemen. Once the bidding starts, everyone will catch the fever.”

Mrs. Goodfellow’s eyes twinkled. “Miss Wentworth, that is a brilliant idea. I’m sure I’ve never seen the like, but that will force the men to compete for position as the most generous. No one will want to lose face by not getting the highest possible bid for the lady whose favor he wants to win.”

Elizabeth looked pensive and her smile grew. “Yes, I do believe that will work.”

“What if we have each dance be a set price and then have the auction for the supper dance?” Leticia said.

Mrs. Goodfellow’s eyes sparkled. “I think you’ve hit on the right combination. All you have to do is make it feel exclusive and the gentlemen will line up.”

Elizabeth turned to Leticia. “We need to modify the guest list.”

“Indeed.”

After thanking the hostess and taking their leave, Leticia and Elizabeth stood in the foyer to don their pelisses and bonnets, all the while discussing possible guests, rescuers, and ladies to approach about auctioning their supper dance.

Elizabeth’s voice trailed off as her head turned to a small figure in the doorway. In a gentle voice, she asked, “What is it, child?”

A girl in the first stages of womanhood took a tentative step toward them, then hung back, her eyes on the floor.

Leticia gestured at the girl to come closer. “May we help you?”

“B-begging yer pardon yer ladyship, but I couldn’t ’elp but over ’ear…yer openin’ a school for the poor folk?”

“We are,” said Leticia.

She took another step nearer. “I’m not an orphan and I’m no’ a chil’ anymore, neither but I wonder…migh’ I come to school?”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “You wish to learn to read and write?”

“Yes’um. I want it ever so bad. If’in I could read, maybe…” The girl swallowed. “Please?” She turned hopeful brown eyes on them.

Leticia’s heart squeezed. “Of course you may.”

The girl offered a timid smile. “I’d like so much t’ work in a dressmaker’s shop. I can sew a li’le. O’ course, Mrs. Goodfellow, she’s teaching me t’ be a maid, and that’d be fine, too. Anything tha’ don’t…” She folded her arms and seemed to retreat inside herself.

Elizabeth looked as if she were about to cry. “We’re trying to get our school open very soon and you’ll be one of our first students. I promise.”

Wonder brightened the girl’s eyes. She bobbed a curtsy. “Thankee kindly, yer ladyship.”

Leticia smiled. She couldn’t save them all of course, but she could save this one, and perhaps a few others like her. She glanced at Elizabeth. Judging by the determined set of her jaw, her friend thought the same. For this cause, Leticia would beg every lady in London to put herself upon the auction block.

Chapter Eight

Tristan sauntered to Rhys Kensington who stood apart from the other guests at the garden party gazing at the hills as if he saw something different than the landscape.

“The view is better if you turn around,” Tristan quipped.

Kensington’s posture straightened as he glanced at Tristan. “Oh?” He looked over his shoulder at a cluster of young ladies twittering like so many birds. “Yes, the view there is pleasant, too.” His voice rose sharply, as if he were trying too hard.

Tristan peered at him. “What ails you?”

Kensington shrugged. “Thoughts unfit for such a fine day.” He faced Tristan. “You look as though you have something on your mind, as well.”