Page 14 of Victorian Bride

That earned a laugh from Lottie, and a smile from Eleanora.

“You have learned the most important ones, anyway,” Lottie said. “All the little ones about how exactly to stand if a man asks you for a dance and if you wish to refuse him while there is another man within hearing distance, and the exact shape of the smile one should wear for every course of dinner, are not going to get you thrown out if you mistake them.”

“Those are not truly rules,” Mya said, chuckling. “They’re just silly.”

“No,” Lottie agreed. “They are not rules. Though there is one about never accepting a dance from one gentleman immediately after turning down another. And a few others more rigorous than that. But as I said, they are not important tonight.” She exchanged a glance with Eleanora, who smiled at her. “What is important,” she added, turning back to Mya, “is enjoying yourself. That is what parties are for, after all, no matter how some people try to stifle them.”

“Tell me something about Mr. and Mrs. Auteberry?” Mya asked.

In all their preparation for the party, she did not think the hosts had been mentioned in more than passing.

“They are quite wealthy,” Eleanora said.

“And quite English.” Lottie's tone was disparaging. “They have a daughter who is close to your age, I believe. They had her coming out party in London last Season, but of course they must introduce her here too, now that it is over. It seems she could not catch a man in London, and they are trying for a Scot.”

“If the queen does something,” Eleanora said, with more venom in her voice than Mya had ever heard from her, “everyone who is anyone must do it. Never mind that only decades ago the people of the Highlands were not allowed to wear our own colors or keep our own traditions. Now they scramble after an idea of it they do not even understand so they can impress those richer and more connected than they are with their awareness of the queen's whims.”

For a moment, Mya was too surprised to come up with an adequate response. She might have expected that sort of commentary from Lottie, but Eleanora generally carried herself with an air of quiet contentment, only marred by the occasional moment of concern for another. Mya wondered now how much of herself she kept under wraps for the sake of propriety.

“If you do not like them, why accept the invitation at all?”

“Because if we do not make a certain number of social outings in a season they will start to wonder what we are doing, holed up in the house, and spend far too much of their time coming up with outlandish rumors to explain our absence,” Lottie said. “And because there will be a great many people there whom I do enjoy seeing. And the Auteberrys do lay quite a table for dinner parties.”

Eleanora laughed softly. “Valid reasons, all,” she said.

“Do you ever throw parties yourselves?” Mya asked.

“Oh, no. Not for a very long time. We hosted a few when James lived, but I lost interest when he fell ill, and after that I never thought of one I should particularly like to host.” Lottie looked thoughtful. “We might see about it, though. Perhaps I shall drag my old hostess skills out someday soon.”

“When she hosted parties,” Eleanora said with a proud smile, “they were legendary. People would not dream of missing a Lottie Alan ball.”

“They were quite well done,” Lottie agreed, her smile soft with nostalgia. “Yes. Now that you are with us, I will organize one. For your introduction to society.”

“I would think this party would be introduction enough,” Mya said.

Lottie shook her head, curls bouncing. “No, no, darling. If you are going to be introduced, it must be at a party hosted by those who know you, and can present you to the world as you ought to be presented. Not as simply another name called at an event for someone else.”

“I thought you did not think much of coming out balls.”

“I do not.” Lottie gave her a conspiratorial smile. “But I will throw one if it is the best way to have a bit of fun.”

As though to punctuate Lottie’s declaration, the carriage rolled to a halt. A moment later, the footman was at the door, lending them each a hand to step down. Mya moved carefully, unused to the long gown and crinoline that kept threatening to trip her up.

It was, however, a lovely gown, and despite the constriction of the corset and the number of times she had nearly fallen over, Mya was rather proud of it. The pale green muslin looked good against her skin and the red of her hair, which Lottie had bound up in a chignon with gem-studded pins.

Lottie, of course, handled the skirts expertly, though she had protested before the party that she never wore such things if she could help it, and she would likely be completely out of practice. The deep red gown was cut daringly low, trimmed in black lace, and Mya caught more than one pair of eyes fixed on her as they moved past the other new arrivals and into the manor.

Eleanora’s gown, too, was trimmed in black lace at the sleeves and neckline, but there the similarities stopped. The overskirt and bodice of the gown were midnight blue, set with panels of tartan in navy and green, pin-striped with yellow and red. She wore bluebells from the garden in her hair.

At the door, a footman took their names and handed them each a dance card, and as they stepped into the main ballroom, a butler announced their arrival.

“Miss Ottilie Alan,” he called. “Miss Mya Boyle. And Miss Eleanora MacLaren.”

Heads turned, and Mya felt eyes on them as they descended the flight of steps to the ballroom. A tall blonde woman whom Mya assumed to be the hostess was immediately at their elbows, dainty hand resting in the crook of her husband’s arm.

“Such a pleasure to see you,” she was saying. “We are so glad you could attend.”

“Mrs. Auteberry,” Lottie said. “Lovely to see you, as always. Mya, this is our delightful host, Mrs. Auteberry.”