Especially at such short notice,’
Lady Weatherby said. ‘May I present my nephew, the Earl of Pemberton?’
‘My Lord.’ Miss Carson swept an even deeper curtsey.
This time, however, she did not rise. Her smile became rigid, and it became
apparent that her whalebone corsets had locked, freezing her into immobility.
Sensing her distress, her brother sprang to her aid. A few
moments later, with his help, she rose again and turned her attention to
Madeline.
‘And the Countess of Pemberton,’ said Lady Weatherby,
performing the introduction.
Miss Carson was about to sweep another extravagant
curtsey when she thought better of it and contented herself with a modest bob.
It was accompanied, however, by a most reverent bowing of the head.
Mr Carson then took Madeline’s hand, bowing over it with
equal reverence.
Madeline realised with relief that she had nothing to
fear from the Carsons . She had
been dreading the evening, in case a slip on her part gave away the nature of
her marriage to Philip, but the Carsons were so overwhelmed by her rank that she was sure any small slips
she might make would pass unnoticed.
The door opened again and the butler announced Lord
Fitzgrey.
Madeline saw Philip cast a curious glance towards his
aunt, but then she had to give her attention to the new guest.
Lord Fitzgrey could not have been more different from
the Carsons . He was a handsome
man of some twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, dressed fashionably but
unostentatiously in a blue tailcoat and a pair of knee breeches. He wore many
rings on his fingers, marking him out as a man of wealth and style. He greeted
Lady Weatherby and Philip with easy affability, and then turned his full
attention to Madeline.
And that was what he was giving her, Madeline realised. His
full attention. He was treating her as though she were the only person in the
room.
‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Countess,’ he
said, bowing over her hand. ‘Pemberton,’ he said, turning to Philip.
‘Fitzgrey.’ Philip returned his greeting coolly. ‘I didn’t
expect to see you here so late in the year. I thought you’d have gone down to Brighton as usual.’
‘I will be going there shortly,’ Lord Fitzgrey said. He
turned back to Madeline. ‘You have been to Brighton , of course, Countess?’ he asked.
‘No,’ admitted Madeline.
‘Then you must let me tell you all about it,’ he said as
dinner was announced.
‘Fitzgrey, you’ll take Madeline in?’ said Lady
Weatherby.
He turned appreciative eyes towards Madeline, ‘I’d be
delighted.’
Philip direct a sharp look in his direction, but then
gave his arm to Miss Carson, whilst Mr Carson escorted Lady Weatherby, and the
six of them moved through to the dining-room.
‘ Brighton is a wonderland,’ said Lord Fitzgrey, as they settled themselves
round the magnificent oak table. ‘It has been a favourite haunt of the Prince Regent’s
for many years.’
As he talked of the Regent’s birthday celebrations,
which were held there every August; the Regent’s statue, which stood eighteen
feet high; and the sea bathing, he appeared to be speaking to the entire table.
But after the first few sentences of every new topic his eyes went exclusively
to Madeline and stayed there. He helped her to wine, he handed her dishes and
listened to her responses to his questions with concentration. Fortunately,
Madeline did not have to start any subjects and so she found it easy to
converse with him.
Meanwhile, Miss Carson was boasting of her jewels.
‘Do you know,’ said Miss Carson, ‘the Duchess was good
enough to say that she thought my poor little emeralds were even prettier than
hers?’
‘How kind,’ murmured Philip.
‘Yes, was it not?’ she asked, delighted. ‘Oh, look,’ she
exclaimed, as a confection of pastry and cream was brought in and set in the
centre of the table. ‘So elegant! So stylish! Why, it reminds me of the pastry
tower we had at Lord Somerby’s - you
Lady Weatherby said. ‘May I present my nephew, the Earl of Pemberton?’
‘My Lord.’ Miss Carson swept an even deeper curtsey.
This time, however, she did not rise. Her smile became rigid, and it became
apparent that her whalebone corsets had locked, freezing her into immobility.
Sensing her distress, her brother sprang to her aid. A few
moments later, with his help, she rose again and turned her attention to
Madeline.
‘And the Countess of Pemberton,’ said Lady Weatherby,
performing the introduction.
Miss Carson was about to sweep another extravagant
curtsey when she thought better of it and contented herself with a modest bob.
It was accompanied, however, by a most reverent bowing of the head.
Mr Carson then took Madeline’s hand, bowing over it with
equal reverence.
Madeline realised with relief that she had nothing to
fear from the Carsons . She had
been dreading the evening, in case a slip on her part gave away the nature of
her marriage to Philip, but the Carsons were so overwhelmed by her rank that she was sure any small slips
she might make would pass unnoticed.
The door opened again and the butler announced Lord
Fitzgrey.
Madeline saw Philip cast a curious glance towards his
aunt, but then she had to give her attention to the new guest.
Lord Fitzgrey could not have been more different from
the Carsons . He was a handsome
man of some twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, dressed fashionably but
unostentatiously in a blue tailcoat and a pair of knee breeches. He wore many
rings on his fingers, marking him out as a man of wealth and style. He greeted
Lady Weatherby and Philip with easy affability, and then turned his full
attention to Madeline.
And that was what he was giving her, Madeline realised. His
full attention. He was treating her as though she were the only person in the
room.
‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Countess,’ he
said, bowing over her hand. ‘Pemberton,’ he said, turning to Philip.
‘Fitzgrey.’ Philip returned his greeting coolly. ‘I didn’t
expect to see you here so late in the year. I thought you’d have gone down to Brighton as usual.’
‘I will be going there shortly,’ Lord Fitzgrey said. He
turned back to Madeline. ‘You have been to Brighton , of course, Countess?’ he asked.
‘No,’ admitted Madeline.
‘Then you must let me tell you all about it,’ he said as
dinner was announced.
‘Fitzgrey, you’ll take Madeline in?’ said Lady
Weatherby.
He turned appreciative eyes towards Madeline, ‘I’d be
delighted.’
Philip direct a sharp look in his direction, but then
gave his arm to Miss Carson, whilst Mr Carson escorted Lady Weatherby, and the
six of them moved through to the dining-room.
‘ Brighton is a wonderland,’ said Lord Fitzgrey, as they settled themselves
round the magnificent oak table. ‘It has been a favourite haunt of the Prince Regent’s
for many years.’
As he talked of the Regent’s birthday celebrations,
which were held there every August; the Regent’s statue, which stood eighteen
feet high; and the sea bathing, he appeared to be speaking to the entire table.
But after the first few sentences of every new topic his eyes went exclusively
to Madeline and stayed there. He helped her to wine, he handed her dishes and
listened to her responses to his questions with concentration. Fortunately,
Madeline did not have to start any subjects and so she found it easy to
converse with him.
Meanwhile, Miss Carson was boasting of her jewels.
‘Do you know,’ said Miss Carson, ‘the Duchess was good
enough to say that she thought my poor little emeralds were even prettier than
hers?’
‘How kind,’ murmured Philip.
‘Yes, was it not?’ she asked, delighted. ‘Oh, look,’ she
exclaimed, as a confection of pastry and cream was brought in and set in the
centre of the table. ‘So elegant! So stylish! Why, it reminds me of the pastry
tower we had at Lord Somerby’s - you
Similar Books
