Page 27 of An Amiable Foe
She glanced over at the gentlemen gathered around the chessboard, then back at him. “I thank you. I will go to my mother’s room”—she looked stricken—“that is to say, I will go to the yellow sitting room and read there.” She curtsied and left the room.
Perry watched her go, then turned back to find Lorry studying her as well. When she exited the room, Lorry folded his arms. “She said no? We shall have to change her mind, won’t we?”
“What are your intentions toward Miss Edgewood?” Perry had not intended to ask that, and it brought Neck’s head up from the game to look at him, and even caused Raife to dart a quick glance. He attempted to keep his tone light, but he was not sure he succeeded, especially when Lorry raised his brows.
“You are quite up in arms over a girl who is not a blood relation, but you need have no fear on my account.” His tone was insouciant, and he didn’t hold Perry’s gaze but turned back to the game. “Careful, Neck. Don’t you see that move will cost you the game?”
His assurance lacked conviction but Perry would give Lorry the benefit of the doubt.
Dinner that night was both calmer and more enjoyable with Miss Edgewood there. She remained almost tongue-tied in their presence, but it made Perry feel more worldly and less like an innocent himself. It was an enjoyable sensation. All three of his friends went out of their way to pull her into the conversation—Lorry and Neck to tease her and try to get her to blush, of which they had no small success—and Raife, surprisingly, with a great deal of consideration for a man who was rather known to not suffer fools gladly.
“Have you given any more thought to the ball?” Lorry asked when the servants carried in dessert. “I have a great longing to see a Kent oast house. I’ve never seen one. Besides, it will be as dull as ditchwater if you don’t come.”
“There will be plenty of other charming ladies present. You won’t miss me,” Miss Edgewood replied with a wry look that Perry could almost believe was flirtatious if she were capable of such a thing. He would rather have that look directed at himself.
“Ah, but there you are wrong,” Lorry countered, dipping his spoon into the syllabub. “We shall pine away. The entire evening will be ruined for us if you do not come.”
“Miss Fife will never consent to coming, and I cannot go without a companion,” Miss Edgewood replied, looking down at her plate.
She had scarcely touched her meal, and Perry wondered how comfortable she was with their collective dinner, unused as she was to company. No one must ever know that she had sat alone with a table full of bachelors without even her companion present. It would ruin her, even if they were far from London society. How could he convince her to come?
Perry was struck by an epiphany. “Did you not say that Mrs. Vernon looked upon you quite like a member of the family? Why do you not allow her to serve as chaperone?”
She considered this as she took a bite of potatoes and chewed thoughtfully. “It would answer, but what…what does one wear to a ball?”
“Something in silk,” Lorry responded with aplomb. “What do we know about lady’s gowns? Silk, I say. Although were you to wear sackcloth over your head, you would still be the most charming lady in the room. You need not worry about what to wear.”
Miss Edgewood turned a charming pink as her eyes sank to her plate again. “I have a silk gown.” She looked at Lorry. “Very well. I will go, then.”
Perry was torn. Relieved that Miss Edgewood had consented to come at last, but suffering more irritation than he could justify to himself that it was Lorry who had convinced her.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Mr. Wilmot’s words had reassured Marianne and provided her with the final encouragement she needed to take the momentous step into society. Had he not said it did not so much matter what she wore? It meant that even if the silk gowns she’d found in her mother’s wardrobe did not prove to be the height of fashion, she would not be shunned by the other guests.
Of course, Mr. Wilmot was being kind when he said she could wear a sackcloth over her head—it need not come to that!—but Mr. Wilmot was a gentleman of the ton. As such, he must know what was acceptable and what was not, and he would not steer her wrong. Of course, she still needed to comport herself correctly at the ball, but she would worry about that when the time came.
Happy to have at last made a decision, she took a bite of her dinner and glanced up. Mr. Osborne was staring at her with those intense gray eyes of his that made her feel as though he wished to read her mind and understand its inner workings. Of course, she was being fanciful. She only hoped he would appreciate what a big step it was for her to attend a ball.
When Mr. Osborne had mentioned the ball earlier, she was for the first time in her life filled with a desire to go. Countless times in the past, the Vernons had invited her to accompany them, but she always felt they had done so out of duty. Besides, there was nothing exciting about going to a ball if it was only to dance with Robert. But being proposed the same option by a gentleman she had not grown up with, and having it reaffirmed by his friend, was all the encouragement she needed. Yes, she was terrified, but she would go.
After dinner, and out of a sense of duty, she went to see how Miss Fife was faring and received the usual complaints. Her companion was not able to move around as she would like; the food was cold by the time it reached her; no one came to see her; there was little to keep her amused.
“Well, if you wish to be assisted into the drawing room, you will please tell me,” Marianne replied, wholly unmoved by her companion’s complaints. “I can request that the servants bring you there.”
“Yes, I believe that would be preferable.” Her companion sighed, then looked at Marianne as though she were seeing her more clearly. “You are flushed. Now, you must not think about staying up late with the gentleman. You should not allow those strange men to make improper advances, especially when I’m not there to protect your innocence.”
Miss Fife’s sudden foray into a lucid sense of responsibility shocked Marianne into protesting, “I would never do such a thing.”
However, she had better come clean about her plans if such lucidity were to continue. “I’ve come to tell you that I will be attending a ball three nights from now. As I know you won’t be able to accompany me, I will send a note off to request Mrs. Vernon’s chaperonage, and I am sure she will be all too happy to agree.”
“Mrs. Vernon is a fat hen. She will drive you mad with her clucking.”
Miss Fife was jealous of Mrs. Vernon and thought the woman had an unnatural hold over her. Marianne knew that, but still had to bite her cheek hard not to laugh. Mrs. Vernon had always been kind, but Miss Fife’s assessment was not completely amiss. She escaped as soon as she could.
Now back in her room, Marianne opened the wardrobe that held her mother’s clothing. Her mother had been fashionable for her time, and some of the gowns there were pretty. She selected one, shook it out, then laid it across the bed before doing the same with another. She focused her efforts on the ones made of silk cloth, and in more interesting colors than what she usually wore.
She didn’t know why she had never thought about having these made over into something that would suit her. She and her mother seemed to have been of the same size, and the gown she pulled out next was a pure, deep yellow, which might prove becoming on her. It was most certainly made of silk, so she could not err. It had no extra flounces on the bottom that she often saw the young ladies wear on Sundays. Rather, it was straight and would hug the body, right down to its train. When Marianne tried it on, the gown was a couple of inches too long. Her mother must have been taller than her, but she didn’t think anyone would be looking at her feet if the dress tended to pool on the floor. Besides, she could not bring herself to alter one of her mother’s gowns, especially with such an inexperienced hand.
