The Famous Heroine/The Plumed Bonnet by Mary Balogh Page A

were handsome. Most of them were taller than she, and even one who was not was on an exact level with her when he wore riding boots. All of them were gentlemen. One of them was heir to a baronet—he had informed her of that last evening. Three of them had been presented to her by the duchess, four by the duke, and one by Lord Francis Kneller.
    This, Cora supposed, giving her parasol a twirl, was what success felt like. She knew beyond a doubt that all these gentlemen were interested in her, even though all of them were scrupulous about dividing their attentionsbetween her and Jane. For one thing, none of them were titled gentlemen. They had been presented to her because they were possible matches for her. None of them would be allowed within a mile of Jane as a suitor. But even apart from that practical fact, Cora knew with her woman’s intuition that their interest was all in her.
    Eight gentlemen—
gentlemen!
—strolled in the park when they might be off elsewhere about their more congenial masculine pursuits. Eight gentlemen hung on her every word, laughed at her every sally into wit, jostled with one another to be closest to her—though all were well-bred enough to keep a proper distance, of course. Eight gentlemen were giving serious consideration to making her their wife—subject to her acceptance. It was a good feeling.
    It was success.
    And it would be hasty success. The Season was almost over. There was no time for a leisurely courtship. She would receive a few more marriage offers before she returned to Bristol, she knew. Mr. Bentley already had offered—and had been refused. She had panicked when it came to the point, though she had no possible objection to him beyond the fact that he must be at least three inches shorter than she was—it might be four, but she could hardly ask him to stand back to back with her while someone measured merely to satisfy her curiosity.
    She could be a married lady—with the key word being
lady
—before Christmas. Papa would be proud of her. Edgar would nod his approval. Her children would be assured a place in society. She would be able to sponsor Edgar’s children. Not that they would need sponsorship—if he ever married and had them, that was. Edgar had been to good schools and he was successful and wealthy in his own right apart from being Papa’s heir, and he was very gentlemanly. Besides, times were beginning to change, as Papa always said.
    Cora had been woolgathering. At the same time she had had her arm linked with Jane’s and had been occasionally patting her hand. Eight gentlemen and no sign of the very one they had come here to run into accidentally on purpose. But she felt Jane brighten suddenly, and sure enough, the Earl of Greenwald himself was cantering along the green, looking very dashing in clothes only Weston could have made. Even Cora was beginning to recognize the excellence of his tailoring.
    The earl looked somewhat taken aback when he spotted the two ladies in the midst of a throng of gentlemen. One of those ladies—Jane—was busily conversing with one of the gentlemen. Cora raised a hand and waved to him, smiling gaily. Only then did Jane look up and appear surprised and prettily confused to see his lordship.
    His lordship joined the parade.
    Her grace’s maid paced determinedly behind, though what she would have done if the gentlemen had all decided to pounce en masse on her two charges was not at all clear, especially to her own mind.
    And then something happened to cause mass diversion and mass entertainment. A series of shrieks turned everyone’s attention ahead along the way. But the immediate fear that someone was in distress was put to flight when it was seen that the screamer was a small hatless child who was chasing after his missing hat. The hat itself, a splendid confection in blue and white with ribbon streamers—all of which matched his outfit—was bowling merrily along in the breeze, pausing only long enough on the grass for