Page 1 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
Chapter One
“Peace to the broken hearts.” –Glenarvon,Lady Caroline Lamb.
The scandal sheets were full of Lady Caroline Lamb’s latest misfortune. She was still barred from Almack’s, even though it was close to two years since her infamous book had been published. Society, naturally, had not forgotten. Perhaps they never would.
“It’s hardly surprising,” Mama sniffed, tossing the paper aside. “What did she expect, offending Lady Jersey in such a way? She quite deserves it, her and that shameful book.”
Ursula stayed silent.Glenarvonwas one of those books that everybody was talking about, but nobody dared admit they were reading. Everybodywasreading it, of course. Ursula was most certainly reading it too. She only had the first volume, and would have to wait for her friend, Charlotte, to finish reading the second. Somebody else had the third volume, all three of the young ladies took great pains to ensure their mamas did not discover their choice of literary readings, especially this particular one which claimed to be the scandal of the Season.
The butler stepped into the drawing room at that moment, clearing his throat pompously.
“Lord Mullen has left his card, Lady Farendale, as well as a gift for Lady Ursula. Shall I bring it in?”
Mama gave a squawk of triumph. “Oh, yes, Evans, bring it in at once! LordMullen, Ursula, Goodness gracious! Imagine that!”
The butler bowed and retreated, returning momentarily with the most preposterous armful of flowers Ursula had ever seen. A neatbillet-douxresided within the blooms, which Evans plucked out and handed, not to Ursula, but to Mama.
“Lilies? Really?” Ursula murmured. “I am not particularly fond of lilies.”
“Pray, do not be absurd!” Mama chastised. “The flowers bare no meaning.”
“Flowers make me sneeze. Which is unfortunate, since it seems that the gentlemen of London are competing with each other to turn our drawing-room into a hothouse,” Ursula responded tartly. “I specificallytoldLord Mullen that I have an immense dislike for flowers when I met him at Almack’s last night.”
Mama tutted, barely listening. She had torn open thebillet-doux, and was reading it avidly.
“You should not say that, Ursula. Ladies are supposed to like flowers.”
“I do like flowers. I like them to grow in the gardens and hedgerows, not die in our drawing room.”
“Well, you were judged to be the Diamond of the Season,” Mama responded, her eyes still on the letter. “You will receiveflowers. Better flowers than sweets. You shan’t remain the Diamond should you acquire a stout girth now, shall you?”
“I do confess that I should not mind a substantial figure.” Ursula muttered, not loud enough for Mama to hear. “Then perhaps they’d leave me alone.”
Lord Mullen was a flabby, dour man in his middle years, who had been wedded twice already. He was entirely bald, and his chin seemed to retreat into his neck in a layer of fat folds. Of course, his appearance could have been easily ignored had he possessed a bright and pleasing personality.
He did not. Lord Mullen was the sort of gentlemen who loudly professed that ladies were silly, trite things who ought to save their limited brainpower to the vital roles of keeping house and producing children.
Ursula knew about this opinion because he had aired it to her the previous evening, despite her desperate attempts to get away.
“Well, this letter is a little too warm for my liking,” Mama said at last, refolding thebillet-douxand slipping it into her bosom, “but it shows that he is very fond of you, and is keen to make a match.”
“Keen to ruin my reputation, rather,” Ursula responded sourly. “He is not to my liking, Mama. I don’t wish to see him again.”
“Nonsense. Gentlemen are tricky creatures, you are aware of this. A gentleman can err a great deal before Society turns onhim. We shan’t rule Lord Mullen out, but if you prefer to look in a different direction, that can certainly be managed.” Mama gestured to the garden’s worth of flowers scattered across their drawing room. “You are spoilt for choice.”
Ursula eyed the flowers miserably. Every flat, stable surface in the room seemed to be taken up by vases and boxes of flowers, with paper-wrapped marzipans and candied fruits. There was even a plate-sized box of gingerbread somewhere.
I told every single one of these gentlemen that I enjoyed reading and poetry, and yet not a single one thought to include a verse in their notes, or to send a volume of something as their gift.
“We are quite fortunate that you are faring so well,” Mama added, a little reprovingly. “You arenineteen, Ursula. You will be twenty years old in a matter of months, and yet this is your first Season. Many girls come out at sixteen or seventeen. In reality, you are terribly behind.”
“Yes, nearly twenty. I am a veritable old hag,” Ursula responded wryly, earning herself a glare from Mama.
“Let me tell you this, my girl,” Mama said, shaking a finger at her daughter. “Your beauty and bloom will fade more quickly than you can imagine.Iwas a beauty at your age, too. There’s no time to waste. You’re the Diamond this Season, but you won’t be the next. Youmustmake a match this year, do you hear me?”
Ursula shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Mama had insisted upon all new gowns for this Season, fashionablyuncomfortable dresses from Paris and Italy that required painfully tight corsets underneath to achieve the desired shape.
“Yes, Mama, I hear you.”
