that led into the ballroom. Just inside the doors stood Caroline, face bright red, eyes snapping with anger. She said nothing, merely watching as her mother and cousin went flying by. Elspeth turned her head and saw Caroline slip out of the French doors, onto the terrace, where Julian stood.
If Aunt Bettina had pulled her unceremoniously from the library, now she barely allowed her niece to put one foot ahead of the other as they made their way straight for the doors that led into the grand hall, and thence to the broad doors and the stairs that swept with staid elegance down to Duke Street, where the groom whistled up their carriage, which had waited down the street. Behind her Elspeth could hear the orchestra strike up another waltz, and it was all she could do not to weep.
Chapter Six
“I have never been so humiliated in all my life, Elspeth! What can you have been thinking? Once was bad enough, but twice? Why, never mind what the man thinks of you—that’s lost already—but you’ve made a laughingstock of this family. Throwing yourself at the likes of Julian Thorpe! Why, do you know his second cousin once removed is an earl? Julian has a townhouse in the finest part of London, and magnificent estates in Suffolk. He is welcome in the very best of homes in all of England. How dare you debase me, not to mention your cousin, in front of the entire ton of Bath by making such a fool of yourself?”
As this tirade had been going on without variation for the better part of the last hour, Elspeth made no reply. In the carriage she had attempted to defend herself by suggesting, ever so gently, that Mr. Thorpe had actually sought out her company, but she had given up that tack as ineffective. Now that they were home, Mrs. Quinn seemed to have undergone a miraculous cure. Of her headache there was not a sign. On the other hand, she had passed it on to Elspeth, who suffered in silence.
“Now I am going to bed. I have half a mind to send you and your brother home in disgrace, indeed I do. The very idea! The very idea.” Aunt Bettina was fairly humphing as she spoke.
“Good night then, Aunt,” said Elspeth. “I’ll retire now as well.”
“Do not think to show yourself anywhere tomorrow, miss. I’ll speak with Caroline and see how the tongues have wagged about you this evening. She’ll hear whatever is being said, I’m sure.”
And a great deal of the worst will be said by her, mused Elspeth, who wisely did not voice her thoughts.
“Good night, Aunt,” Elspeth said again firmly, then turned and left the room, not willing to hear any more. But outside her aunt’s room, her step lightened and a smile lit her face in the dark hallway. She should be devastated at her aunt’s words, but she knew in her heart they were spiteful nonsense. Julian had sought her out, not once but twice! And he had held her hand. Oh, she knew not to lay too much importance on that. Hands were offered and accepted quite casually among the ton . But this had been different, hadn’t it? A quiet, private touch.
Or was she a rather pathetic country girl—woman, actually—just another foolish spinster fast on her way to a broken heart? Her spirits plummeted. It felt as if her feet had landed with a thud on the carpet. She stopped in her tracks and stared at nothing in the dark. Didn’t she know enough about the idle flirtations of this society not to fall wildly in love with the very first (and only) man who paid her a light compliment? Was the entire ton laughing at her? Was Julian laughing at her with Caroline at this very moment, his arms locked around her pink-satined form as he waltzed her around the room, eyes only for her?
It took an effort to walk the last few steps to her room. And the chilly water that she poured into the basin on the washstand was warmed by her tears.
* * * *
“A picnic, my dear Miss Quinn. The weather will be perfect. We can ride out to the vineyards at Claverton. Do say yes!” Edgar Randall
If Aunt Bettina had pulled her unceremoniously from the library, now she barely allowed her niece to put one foot ahead of the other as they made their way straight for the doors that led into the grand hall, and thence to the broad doors and the stairs that swept with staid elegance down to Duke Street, where the groom whistled up their carriage, which had waited down the street. Behind her Elspeth could hear the orchestra strike up another waltz, and it was all she could do not to weep.
Chapter Six
“I have never been so humiliated in all my life, Elspeth! What can you have been thinking? Once was bad enough, but twice? Why, never mind what the man thinks of you—that’s lost already—but you’ve made a laughingstock of this family. Throwing yourself at the likes of Julian Thorpe! Why, do you know his second cousin once removed is an earl? Julian has a townhouse in the finest part of London, and magnificent estates in Suffolk. He is welcome in the very best of homes in all of England. How dare you debase me, not to mention your cousin, in front of the entire ton of Bath by making such a fool of yourself?”
As this tirade had been going on without variation for the better part of the last hour, Elspeth made no reply. In the carriage she had attempted to defend herself by suggesting, ever so gently, that Mr. Thorpe had actually sought out her company, but she had given up that tack as ineffective. Now that they were home, Mrs. Quinn seemed to have undergone a miraculous cure. Of her headache there was not a sign. On the other hand, she had passed it on to Elspeth, who suffered in silence.
“Now I am going to bed. I have half a mind to send you and your brother home in disgrace, indeed I do. The very idea! The very idea.” Aunt Bettina was fairly humphing as she spoke.
“Good night then, Aunt,” said Elspeth. “I’ll retire now as well.”
“Do not think to show yourself anywhere tomorrow, miss. I’ll speak with Caroline and see how the tongues have wagged about you this evening. She’ll hear whatever is being said, I’m sure.”
And a great deal of the worst will be said by her, mused Elspeth, who wisely did not voice her thoughts.
“Good night, Aunt,” Elspeth said again firmly, then turned and left the room, not willing to hear any more. But outside her aunt’s room, her step lightened and a smile lit her face in the dark hallway. She should be devastated at her aunt’s words, but she knew in her heart they were spiteful nonsense. Julian had sought her out, not once but twice! And he had held her hand. Oh, she knew not to lay too much importance on that. Hands were offered and accepted quite casually among the ton . But this had been different, hadn’t it? A quiet, private touch.
Or was she a rather pathetic country girl—woman, actually—just another foolish spinster fast on her way to a broken heart? Her spirits plummeted. It felt as if her feet had landed with a thud on the carpet. She stopped in her tracks and stared at nothing in the dark. Didn’t she know enough about the idle flirtations of this society not to fall wildly in love with the very first (and only) man who paid her a light compliment? Was the entire ton laughing at her? Was Julian laughing at her with Caroline at this very moment, his arms locked around her pink-satined form as he waltzed her around the room, eyes only for her?
It took an effort to walk the last few steps to her room. And the chilly water that she poured into the basin on the washstand was warmed by her tears.
* * * *
“A picnic, my dear Miss Quinn. The weather will be perfect. We can ride out to the vineyards at Claverton. Do say yes!” Edgar Randall
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