Page 14 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“I am certain most members of the ton are aware of the size of our fortune,” Amelia said dryly. It was, after all, the only reason they were permitted among them. Well that, and the fact that her father’s mines had made several key members of the aristocracy a lot of money.
“Then let’s remind them.” Mrs. Hart held up a necklace of rubies and diamonds, each one small but perfectly formed. “This will do, I think. The red of the rubies will go well with the pink embellishments on your dress, and diamonds…. Well, do I really need to remark on those?”
“I will put it on her after her hair is done,” Mary said.
Amelia didn’t argue. It was a nice necklace and far less gaudy than some of the ones her mother could have chosen. Personally, Amelia preferred not to wear jewelry at all, but until she was in control of her own destiny, she would comply. It wasn’t as if she disliked jewels. She just found it uncomfortable to attract attention to herself, and jewelry was designed for that purpose.
Mary dropped her hands from the back of the dress and stepped away. Amelia tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn’t quite manage to.
“Sit in front of the mirror, please, miss,” Mary said.
“Of course.” She lowered herself into the chair Mary had placed in front of the mirror, being careful not to burst the seams of the definitely-too-tight gown.
Mary removed the ribbon holding Amelia’s hair and briskly brushed the length down her back.
“Make sure to use the jeweled pins,” Mrs. Hart urged.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As Mary began to arrange Amelia’s hair into an elaborate knot on the back of her head, Mrs. Hart hovered over Amelia’s shoulder so that they could make eye contact in the mirror.
“Do you recall which gentlemen we intend to impress?” Mrs. Hart asked.
“Yes.” Amelia was careful not to move her head. “The Duke of Wight, the Marquess of Overton, and the Earls of Winn and Longley.”
“Good girl.”
Amelia was tempted to bark.
Mrs. Hart watched her with an unwavering gaze. “Remind me how we intend to capture their attention.”
Amelia parroted her mother’s earlier instructions. “By being demure, curtsying beautifully, and accepting every invitation to dance.”
“Don’t forget, there will be no mention of your fanciful scribblings. Nor should you mention any books you may have read.”
Amelia frowned. “What if they refer to the book first? They may ask me if I have read a particular work.”
Mrs. Hart laughed. “My dear, I can assure you that no gentleman will ask you about your reading habits.” She shuddered distastefully as she voiced the phrase as if it were dirty and would sully her by association.
Amelia supposed that since she had made it through her first season without any discussion of books, it would be no sacrifice to promise to do so again. Her mother had a point,after all. Gentlemen didn’t seem to admire ladies for their wit or their ability to read Latin or French.
“I will not mention fiction of any form,” she agreed.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Hart touched her shoulder lightly. “It is for the best. We will not secure a title if you do not try. You’re a smart girl. You can make it happen if you wish to.”
Amelia pressed her lips together. That might be one of the nicer things her mother had said to her. Not that Mrs. Hart was intentionally cruel. She was just self-centered and had a shallow view of the world.
Mrs. Hart excused herself to get prepared for the ball, and once she was gone, it didn’t take long for Mary to pin Amelia’s hair into place, frame her face artfully with curls, and arrange the necklace around the base of her throat.
“Good luck,” she murmured as Amelia swept out of her bedchamber.
“Thank you,” she called back.
Her father was waiting patiently near the bottom of the stairs. He turned toward her as she approached.
“Are you ready for a night of dancing?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“I suppose so.” She actually liked dancing—not that she was the most graceful at it.
