Page 32 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke
‘Excellent,’ Mama said.‘Seven invitations.It seems the Season is starting early this year.The dreadful weather must be driving people into town.We will accept all of these.’
‘Yes, Mama.’
‘And you are going to need a great many new gowns.’
* * *
The quest for new gowns turned into an entire day shopping, with visits to three fashionable dressmakers in addition to calling at shoe shops, various bazaars and a silk warehouse.
Nothing, of course, would be ready for Lady Beale’s musicale the next evening, but however much Mama might sigh over her wardrobe, Thea felt herself perfectly adequately gowned in leaf green trimmed with darker green floss around the neck and twisted ribbons at the hem.A new silk shawl in a Paisley pattern in shades of deep red flattered her hair and old garnet jewellery went well with the green.
Thea eyed Mama’s reticule as they waited in the receiving line, wondering if it contained a list of the twenty most eligible gentlemen and a pencil in order to make notes as each was encountered.
She was still feeling the weight of parental disappointmentand disapproval over her ‘agreement’ with the Duke, but Lady Wiveton was too skilled to allow any dissatisfaction with her daughter to show in public.
The salon was crowded.Lady Beale’s events were always well attended because she never inflicted second-rate performers, let alone amateurs, upon her guests.
Despite the crush it was, she supposed with a sigh, inevitable that the first person Thea saw as she entered was Hal Forrest.
The Duke of Leamington, she reminded herself.
This was not the amiable, comfortably clad, amusing gentleman whom she’d believed was her friend.This was a very lofty aristocrat indeed, clad in the elegance of severest black, corbeau blue and white that only exceptional tailoring added to a fine physique could achieve.
There was a diamond in his neck cloth, the glint of gold from the watch chin across the admirably flat midriff and, as he raised a hand in greeting to a man approaching him, the gleam of the worn old signet ring on his left hand.
Thea reminded herself that Hal Forrest was a ghost, a figment of her imagination, and that only the man on the other side of the room was a reality.And that reality was simply one more name crossed off the list of people she was not going to marry.Duke or commoner, he was an irrelevance now.
She and Mama began to circulate slowly around the room in a clockwise direction, stopping to exchange a few words with acquaintances as they went.Inevitably they became separated.Thea drifted on, spoke to the Misses Chelmsford, amiable brunette twins who she had always liked, then dodged away with a murmured excuse to avoid Lady Helena Linton, who she cordially disliked.
Lady Helena was blonde, pretty and vivacious.She attractedmen in droves, but they all then, inexplicably, failed to come up to scratch.Women had no trouble understanding why, because beneath the smiles and charm Helena was coldly calculating and took no pains to make friends with any female who could not be of use to her.She reminded Thea of Penelope Chelford in looks, but with added slyness and malice.
Thea found herself cornered by two of her mother’s closest friends, all smiles and sharp, curious eyes.Had Mama let something slip, made them suspect that she had expected a highly desirable proposal?Surely not.Her mother was very skilled at navigating the shark-infested seas of the Marriage Mart and would never give such a hostage to fortune until she was absolutely certain that the betrothal was reality.
The two matrons expressed concern that Lady Holme had been unwell and delight to hear that she was now recovered.And dear Thea had only been away just over a week?What a long way to travel for such a short time.
Thea knew well that if they could concoct some kind of scandal at her sudden disappearance from London they would have done, but not even two weeks?That defeated even their sharp noses for secrets.Besides, Lady Holme was utterly respectable.
Inwardly smiling at their frustration, Thea moved on, aware, out of the corner of her eye, of a pair of broad Bath superfine-clad shoulders on the other side of the room.Hal—the Duke—was standing in the midst of a knot of other gentlemen.With any luck he would stay there, presumably answering their questions about the Congress, the shock of Napoleon’s escape and Waterloo, and she could drift past unnoticed.
Not that she was trying to hide from him.Goodnessno, she thought, making her way through the crowd.She had nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about.It was just that she needed a little time to accustom herself to this man not being her friend Hal, but someone else altogether.
Devious, entitled, neglectful—
‘Lady Thea.How delightful.’
And there he was, right in front of her.
‘Duke.’She inclined her head one chilly, and correct, inch.‘You are a music lover?’
‘I am.’
That appeared to be the limit of their conversational resources.Thea was aware of being watched with interest.The most eligible man in London and the highly eligible daughter of the Earl of Wiveton making conversation was one thing, and only to be expected and envied.The pair of them staring speechlessly at each other was quite another, and very intriguing.She had to say something.
‘You will be relieved to hear that our mutual godmother, Lady Holme, has completely recovered from her slight indisposition,’ Thea said brightly, her voice loud enough for anyone standing close to overhear, even against the background noise of a hundred people all talking at once.
‘I am glad to hear that our godmother is well again,’ he said, equally clearly.‘You have visited her, I gather.’
‘Indeed.’Thea inclined her head again.‘For a few days.’
