wouldn’t add to Esme’s embarrassment. Instead, she gave the
younger woman an encouraging smile.
Esme didn’t smile back. She looked
stricken. “I was quite awful to him, wasn’t I?” she whispered.
Sarah couldn’t answer because more people
were approaching them. Everyone wanted to greet the Duke of Trent, and by
extension his younger sister and Sarah. By the time the dancing formally began,
Sarah had been introduced to forty-three members of London society she hadn’t
previously known.
As the highest-ranking gentleman in attendance,
Simon would open the ball partnered with Lady Bellingham. When he finally left
them to escort the lady to the floor, Sarah and Esme found a pair of empty
seats in the line of maroon-velvet-upholstered chairs that stretched along the
length of the grand room.
For the first time in a good hour, no one
accosted them. She supposed it was because Simon was no longer with them.
Beside Sarah, a young debutante whispered to her companion as the dancing
began, “That’s the Duke of Trent. Oh, how I wish to be introduced.”
“What would you say to him if you were?”
her friend asked.
“I’d fall to my knees and kiss his toes
and beg him to choose me for his duchess,” the young woman said. Both girls
tittered but kept rapturous eyes on Simon over their fan tops.
Sarah watched him, tall and handsome, as
he switched partners, smiling down at the new lady. His lips moved. The lady, a
plump woman a few years older than Sarah, gushed something Sarah couldn’t begin
to comprehend, then turned pink to the tips of her ears.
“Lady Esme!”
Sarah and Esme both turned. A beautiful
young woman and her older counterpart were approaching. By the similarity of
their features, Sarah assumed they were mother and daughter.
Esme rose, a bit of her dress catching
between her seat and Sarah’s, and she yanked it out as Sarah rose, too.
“Good evening, my lady.” She gave an
awkward curtsy over her chair. “Um…” She looked at Sarah. “This is my
companion, Miss Osborne.”
Sarah smiled, waiting for the ladies’
names. But Esme was finished, so the older woman, after sliding her gaze one
last time to Esme, said, “Miss Osborne, it is lovely to meet you. I am Lady
Stanley, and this is my daughter, Miss Stanley.”
“Good evening.” Sarah curtsied, trying not
to wince at the breach of protocol Esme had necessitated.
They stood there far too long in an
uncomfortable silence. Sarah studied the young woman, who in turn studied Esme
with an interested, coolly assessing gaze.
She was beautiful. A blond angel dressed
in white with a shimmering silver trim. Blue-eyed, with a healthy glow in her
cheeks. She was the quintessential maiden shopping in the marriage mart with
her matchmaking mama. Sarah had heard of Baron and Lady Stanley – their country
home wasn’t far from Ironwood Park. But they’d never visited, and the duchess
had never spoken of having them as guests. Sarah had no idea why, especially
since the daughter appeared similar in age to Esme.
Finally, seemingly unable to bear the
silence any longer, Lady Stanley said, “I hear you have only recently arrived
in London.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Esme said.
“We arrived just a few days ago,” Sarah
supplied.
“I see. I wouldn’t have expected to see
you in Town without your mother,” Lady Stanley said. “Did she remain at
Ironwood Park?”
“She is…”
Esme swallowed hard, and again, Sarah
finished responding for her. “The duchess was unable to join us.”
“Oh my. I do hope she is well.”
Sarah looked closely at the older woman.
Her face was a mask of polite concern, yet there seemed to be a slight
insincerity to the way she’d said that. Had something unpleasant occurred
between the women? Was that why the Stanleys never came to Ironwood Park?
“We will convey your good wishes,” Sarah
said simply, not wanting to lie and yet not wanting to give anything away,
either.
Miss Stanley seemed
younger woman an encouraging smile.
Esme didn’t smile back. She looked
stricken. “I was quite awful to him, wasn’t I?” she whispered.
Sarah couldn’t answer because more people
were approaching them. Everyone wanted to greet the Duke of Trent, and by
extension his younger sister and Sarah. By the time the dancing formally began,
Sarah had been introduced to forty-three members of London society she hadn’t
previously known.
As the highest-ranking gentleman in attendance,
Simon would open the ball partnered with Lady Bellingham. When he finally left
them to escort the lady to the floor, Sarah and Esme found a pair of empty
seats in the line of maroon-velvet-upholstered chairs that stretched along the
length of the grand room.
For the first time in a good hour, no one
accosted them. She supposed it was because Simon was no longer with them.
Beside Sarah, a young debutante whispered to her companion as the dancing
began, “That’s the Duke of Trent. Oh, how I wish to be introduced.”
“What would you say to him if you were?”
her friend asked.
“I’d fall to my knees and kiss his toes
and beg him to choose me for his duchess,” the young woman said. Both girls
tittered but kept rapturous eyes on Simon over their fan tops.
Sarah watched him, tall and handsome, as
he switched partners, smiling down at the new lady. His lips moved. The lady, a
plump woman a few years older than Sarah, gushed something Sarah couldn’t begin
to comprehend, then turned pink to the tips of her ears.
“Lady Esme!”
Sarah and Esme both turned. A beautiful
young woman and her older counterpart were approaching. By the similarity of
their features, Sarah assumed they were mother and daughter.
Esme rose, a bit of her dress catching
between her seat and Sarah’s, and she yanked it out as Sarah rose, too.
“Good evening, my lady.” She gave an
awkward curtsy over her chair. “Um…” She looked at Sarah. “This is my
companion, Miss Osborne.”
Sarah smiled, waiting for the ladies’
names. But Esme was finished, so the older woman, after sliding her gaze one
last time to Esme, said, “Miss Osborne, it is lovely to meet you. I am Lady
Stanley, and this is my daughter, Miss Stanley.”
“Good evening.” Sarah curtsied, trying not
to wince at the breach of protocol Esme had necessitated.
They stood there far too long in an
uncomfortable silence. Sarah studied the young woman, who in turn studied Esme
with an interested, coolly assessing gaze.
She was beautiful. A blond angel dressed
in white with a shimmering silver trim. Blue-eyed, with a healthy glow in her
cheeks. She was the quintessential maiden shopping in the marriage mart with
her matchmaking mama. Sarah had heard of Baron and Lady Stanley – their country
home wasn’t far from Ironwood Park. But they’d never visited, and the duchess
had never spoken of having them as guests. Sarah had no idea why, especially
since the daughter appeared similar in age to Esme.
Finally, seemingly unable to bear the
silence any longer, Lady Stanley said, “I hear you have only recently arrived
in London.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Esme said.
“We arrived just a few days ago,” Sarah
supplied.
“I see. I wouldn’t have expected to see
you in Town without your mother,” Lady Stanley said. “Did she remain at
Ironwood Park?”
“She is…”
Esme swallowed hard, and again, Sarah
finished responding for her. “The duchess was unable to join us.”
“Oh my. I do hope she is well.”
Sarah looked closely at the older woman.
Her face was a mask of polite concern, yet there seemed to be a slight
insincerity to the way she’d said that. Had something unpleasant occurred
between the women? Was that why the Stanleys never came to Ironwood Park?
“We will convey your good wishes,” Sarah
said simply, not wanting to lie and yet not wanting to give anything away,
either.
Miss Stanley seemed
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