Page 8 of An Earl to Save the Diamond
“Why, mother and Andrew of course. Did they notice my absence?”
“They just did. Where have you been, and why do you look like this?” Marjorie questioned, leading a shaking Ellen to a corner of the room and away from prying eyes.
“Do I look that horrible?” Ellen gasped.
“No, dearest. It’s just your hair. Did you have a romp around in a bird’s nest? Or have you found a rake with whom you’re having a tryst?” Marjorie winked but sobered up quickly when Ellen retained her stoic expression. “Come now, I was only joking. Come on, let me fix it. Follow me.”
Ellen obeyed and followed gratefully as Marjorie led her to the patio. Hair fixed and much calmer a few moments later, Ellen was ready to mingle once again with the rest of theton.
“Well, it isn’t much, but this will do,” Marjorie commented.
“Do you think anyone will notice? That my hair is slightly different from when I came in?”
“Ellen, all the men here are dimwits and hardly ever notice these things, the mothers are too busy watching over their daughters, and their daughters are too busy watching the bachelors. They will hardly tell the difference.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am positive. Come on now, let us go back to the ballroom before your brother wrings my delicate neck.”
Ellen chuckled lightly, and the two ladies made their way back into the party. They had scarcely entered the ballroom when Andrew stalked toward them with a dark expression. “And where have you been?” he questioned.
“With me, of course,” Marjorie said cheerfully.
“You know what I mean,” Andrew said, ignoring Marjorie’s comment. Ellen shrank under his stare but said nothing.
Andrew sighed. “We shall discuss this at home, but first, we have some matters to attend to.” He paused for a while and looked at her with a quizzical expression.
“What is it?” Ellen asked, dreading his answer.
“Your hair,” he replied. Ellen’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
“It looks wonderful, doesn’t it?” Marjorie said, coming to the rescue once again.
“I suppose so. It does.” Ellen knew that her brother was too much of a gentleman to say what he was really thinking, especially in the presence of Marjorie who, she was sure, must have teased him enough about his chaperoning skills.
“Come on now, Sister; time to find you a befitting husband,” Andrew said, taking her arm and offering Marjorie his other arm. But she turned up her nose at him and walked in front of them both without a care in the world.
“Always so stubborn,” Andrew grunted and took Ellen to dance once again.
“I must have been mistaken about your brother. It does seem that he might have some sensibilities in the matters of hairstyles,” Marjorie whispered to Ellen a few minutes later. Andrew had been once again whisked into the hands of a doe-eyed lady at her Mama’s insistence. Ellen watched as they danced but listened intently to what Marjorie had to say. “Although, it’s no surprise since he spends so much time with someone with a lot of experience in such matters,” Marjorie continued, referring of course to the Duke of Grant’s mistress who was a renowned hair stylist.
Ellen smiled softly. Her cousin truly had not a care in the world, or else she would not gossip so lightly. By the end of the night, her dance card remained empty, and save the incident with the Earl of Ridlington, her evening was uneventful. She watched some of the Mamas of thetoncast pitying glances her way.
Andrew took her hand. “Walk proudly, dear sister. I am sure by tomorrow we shall have more callers than we care to entertain. None of them was brave enough tonight, sadly. Perhaps by the morrow, they shall have mustered courage enough to ask for your hand.”
“Yes, Brother,” she agreed, as he helped her to the carriage and instructed the driver to take them home.
Ellen settled next to her mother who kept complaining about how it was such a shame that nobody had walked up to ask her for a dance on her first night out in Season.
“Oh! What will thetonsay?” her mother repeated for the umpteenth time.
“I would have danced with a few people if Andrew did not keep scaring them off,” Ellen retorted.
“Oh, nonsense! Andrew was only looking out for your best interests.”
“He did not let me dance with even one of them!”
“Hush, child. Your brother is the Duke of Grant. We should be grateful that he graciously spared so much time to chaperone you this evening. Surely, he has a lot more important matters to attend to than make sure you did not get into any trouble this evening.”
