would fall to their knees and praise the delicate beauty of a small, slim girl who reminded them of a fragile orchid, not a buxom tawdry rose.
It had not been too long ago when her fantasy heroes had all looked like different men, grand personages that she had seen in various paintings from centuries past. Recently, however, they had all morphed into the same man with the same face. It was a sweet face, somewhat softer than was fashionable, with light brown eyes and floppy hair that never seemed to be in its proper place. He was not terribly tall, which suited her tiny build just fine. He was intelligent and kind and somewhat shy, not at all a Corinthian or any man who would cut a great dash.
He looked somewhat like Benjamin Cayson, though she could never make out the face in detail.
Mr. Cayson was the older brother of Anne’s good friend Emily Cayson. Their father was a baron and considered very good ton. He had even been a dinner guest of Anne’s brother Culfrey on several occasions, but Benjamin was the baron’s younger son and not likely to inherit. He was a firm member of established society, but not very high in the grand scheme of things. Not high enough for the daughter of a duke…
Lady Anne shook herself out of her dream and frowned. Now why on earth was she thinking of Benjamin Cayson? He was a pleasant and happy young man who had kept her and Emily company during her friendly visits. He was often even good enough to stand behind her and turn the music pages when she thumped away on Emily’s spinet now and again. But he was just a friend, as much as a young lady could have a gentleman for a friend.
“Lady Anne!”
She jumped at the rebuke from her governess, who sat across from her.
“You are dreaming again, and your lovely ice is melting away,” said the woman with a frown.
“Oh, yes.” Anne scooped up a pile of ice and ate it. It tasted wonderful.
“I do hope you won’t lose yourself in daydreams come this Thursday night,” the governess continued. “You will have to have your wits about you and be engaging. Gentlemen don’t like to feel as if they are boring.”
“No, of course not,” Anne agreed, for she really did feel bad when she allowed her daydreams to intrude in a social setting. It did not happen often.
“Good. We want to make a fine impression on, eh… Oh, dear me! His Grace does not tell me anything. What is the gentleman’s name again?”
“Kenly, I think. Viscount Kenly was a friend of my father’s some years ago.”
“I’m sure it will be a marvelous match, my lady.” The governess nodded sagely. “His Grace, the late duke, was a wise man.”
“Yes,” Anne agreed weakly. As much as she put forth a strong and determined front, she was terrified. What if the Viscount Kenly didn’t like her? What would Culfrey say to her? She would be such a disappointment! Or worse yet, what if she did not like him? What if she was fated to marry a horrible brute of a man who just wanted heirs and a pleasant face to grace his drawing room?
Lady Anne closed her eyes against welling tears, but that would not do. She recovered herself and ate her lovely, expensive ice in silence.
Chapter Five
The Ball
It seemed that fate was not on friendly terms with Lord Richard Avery. After getting clear of Bolling and Sir William in the park, Richard doubled back along a different path and rode full-out for the north gate, no doubt putting the fear of God into several innocent pedestrians. Despite his efforts, there was no sign of Henry. His short interrogation of a boy selling newspapers on the corner also yielded nothing.
“Can’t say, milord,” the boy said with a shrug. “The Quality all looks the same t’me.”
Richard continued on home, frustrated and snappish, and sunk himself into a bottle of brandy. The next day he moved around like an old man, his head pounding and his temper on edge. But he rallied himself soon enough with a stern internal lecture and reminded himself
It had not been too long ago when her fantasy heroes had all looked like different men, grand personages that she had seen in various paintings from centuries past. Recently, however, they had all morphed into the same man with the same face. It was a sweet face, somewhat softer than was fashionable, with light brown eyes and floppy hair that never seemed to be in its proper place. He was not terribly tall, which suited her tiny build just fine. He was intelligent and kind and somewhat shy, not at all a Corinthian or any man who would cut a great dash.
He looked somewhat like Benjamin Cayson, though she could never make out the face in detail.
Mr. Cayson was the older brother of Anne’s good friend Emily Cayson. Their father was a baron and considered very good ton. He had even been a dinner guest of Anne’s brother Culfrey on several occasions, but Benjamin was the baron’s younger son and not likely to inherit. He was a firm member of established society, but not very high in the grand scheme of things. Not high enough for the daughter of a duke…
Lady Anne shook herself out of her dream and frowned. Now why on earth was she thinking of Benjamin Cayson? He was a pleasant and happy young man who had kept her and Emily company during her friendly visits. He was often even good enough to stand behind her and turn the music pages when she thumped away on Emily’s spinet now and again. But he was just a friend, as much as a young lady could have a gentleman for a friend.
“Lady Anne!”
She jumped at the rebuke from her governess, who sat across from her.
“You are dreaming again, and your lovely ice is melting away,” said the woman with a frown.
“Oh, yes.” Anne scooped up a pile of ice and ate it. It tasted wonderful.
“I do hope you won’t lose yourself in daydreams come this Thursday night,” the governess continued. “You will have to have your wits about you and be engaging. Gentlemen don’t like to feel as if they are boring.”
“No, of course not,” Anne agreed, for she really did feel bad when she allowed her daydreams to intrude in a social setting. It did not happen often.
“Good. We want to make a fine impression on, eh… Oh, dear me! His Grace does not tell me anything. What is the gentleman’s name again?”
“Kenly, I think. Viscount Kenly was a friend of my father’s some years ago.”
“I’m sure it will be a marvelous match, my lady.” The governess nodded sagely. “His Grace, the late duke, was a wise man.”
“Yes,” Anne agreed weakly. As much as she put forth a strong and determined front, she was terrified. What if the Viscount Kenly didn’t like her? What would Culfrey say to her? She would be such a disappointment! Or worse yet, what if she did not like him? What if she was fated to marry a horrible brute of a man who just wanted heirs and a pleasant face to grace his drawing room?
Lady Anne closed her eyes against welling tears, but that would not do. She recovered herself and ate her lovely, expensive ice in silence.
Chapter Five
The Ball
It seemed that fate was not on friendly terms with Lord Richard Avery. After getting clear of Bolling and Sir William in the park, Richard doubled back along a different path and rode full-out for the north gate, no doubt putting the fear of God into several innocent pedestrians. Despite his efforts, there was no sign of Henry. His short interrogation of a boy selling newspapers on the corner also yielded nothing.
“Can’t say, milord,” the boy said with a shrug. “The Quality all looks the same t’me.”
Richard continued on home, frustrated and snappish, and sunk himself into a bottle of brandy. The next day he moved around like an old man, his head pounding and his temper on edge. But he rallied himself soon enough with a stern internal lecture and reminded himself
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