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- Herausgeber: Anessa Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Can the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society help a duke’s sister find love where she would least expect it?
Lady Margaret refuses to believe she is as beautiful and charming as people say. With a deadline to marry, she knows she needs to rely on her friends’ help in putting herself forward. And now she’s even seeking out the support of her chaperone’s footman. Only through his incredible art can she recognize what she is unable to see in her mirror.
Tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, James Douglass, Marquess of Rossburke, has the looks of the perfect footman. This unexpected career path is unfortunately the only way the impoverished Scottish nobleman can find to support his passion for painting – for which London is the only place to be. But how can he now win the heart of his new passion, the lovely and vulnerable Lady Margaret?
To make sure that love is well served, the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society have to concoct their most devious plan to convince the footman to show his true hand.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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Table of Contents
Book Description
A Bid for Romance
Copyright
Dramatis Personae
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
About the Author
Newsletter Signup
Books By Meredith Bond
Can the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society help a duke’s sister find love where she would least expect it?
Lady Margaret refuses to believe she is as beautiful and charming as people say. With a deadline to marry, she knows she needs to rely on her friends’ help in putting herself forward. And now she’s even seeking out the support of her chaperone’s footman. Only through his incredible art can she recognize what she is unable to see in her mirror.
Tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, James Douglass, Marquess of Rossburke, has the looks of the perfect footman. This unexpected career path is unfortunately the only way the impoverished Scottish nobleman can find to support his passion for painting – for which London is the only place to be. But how can he now win the heart of his new passion, the lovely and vulnerable Lady Margaret?
To make sure that love is well served, the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society have to concoct their most devious plan to convince the footman to show his true hand.
A Bid for Romance
The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society, Book 5
Meredith Bond
Copyright, 2020, Meredith Bond.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cover Art by QuarterbackTB
Logo by Anjali Banerji
Edited by The Editing Hall
Published by Anessa Books
Dramatis Personae
Christianne Ayres (previously Lady Norman): Founding member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Lydia Welles née Sheffield: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Diana Crowther, Lady Colburne née Hemshawe: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Claire Tyne, Lady Blakemore: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Alys Russell, Duchess of Kendell: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Mrs. Penelope Aldridge: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Cynthia Montley, Lady Sorrell: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Ellen Aston, Lady Moreton: member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society
Joshua Powell, Lord Wickford: owner Powell’s Club for Gentlemen
Tina Bronley, Duchess of Warwick née Rowan: Christianne’s natural daughter
Robert Bronley, Duke of Warwick: Tina’s husband
Lady Margaret Bronley: Warwick’s sister
Liam Ayres, Lord Ayres: Christianne’s husband and Tina’s father
John Welles, Lord Welles: Lydia’s husband
Andrew Crowther, Lord Colburne: Diana’s husband
Beatrice & Isabelle Kendrick: Claire’s nieces
Edward Pike, Lord Conway: Bel’s romantic interest
Paul Adler, Lord St. Vincent: Bee’s romantic interest
Elizabeth Adler, Lady St. Vincent: Paul’s young step-mother
James Douglass, Marquess of Rossburke: Wickford’s friend from school.
Chapter One
~March 24, 1807~
“Get your hands off her!” James Douglass commanded as he strode into Lord Coningsby’s library. There were more pictures than books in the room, but his lordship liked the pretension of calling it the library. Jamie just thought the man an idiot.
It was exactly as he’d feared when Mary hadn’t come back down to the kitchen after sweeping out the fireplaces. The fourteen-year-old maid always left the library for last, in order to avoid Lord Coningsby, but sometimes he returned in the afternoons instead of going out to his club. Jamie, a footman in the household, had warned her that his lordship was home, but Mary hadn’t had a choice—she had to do her work.
And now, Jamie didn’t have a choice but to rescue the girl from their employer’s wandering hands.
Lord Coningsby’s hand froze on the girl’s budding breast as Jamie now came to a halt in the center of the room. His lordship still stood by the fireplace place where he’d accosted the scullery maid. His eyes widened for only a moment before narrowing in anger. He deliberately continued what he was doing, squeezing hard enough to elicit a squeak from the girl as if daring Jamie. The man’s other hand gripped Mary’s upper arm, ensuring that she couldn’t move away.
“I said, get your hands off her,” Jamie repeated. He felt his nails biting into his palms, but it was Coningsby who he’d like to hurt more than anything.
“And just who the hell do you think you are commanding me to do anything,” his lordship spat.
“I am looking out for her welfare—something that should be your responsibility,” Jamie replied.
A cruel smile grew on Lord Coningsby’s face. “Yes, she is my responsibility, and I can do whatever the hell I want with her. She belongs to me.”
“She belongs to nobody,” Jamie said, trying to control the volume if not the tone of his voice.
“She is in my employ, as were you, now get out!” His lordship shouted before turning back to Mary. Tears were streaming down her small round face even as her big brown eyes implored Jamie.
“Don’t lose yer job over me, Jamie,” she cried.
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear, he already has,” Lord Coningsby said, giving her a cruel smile. “Now get out of my house and don’t ever return!” he yelled at the former footman.
“I am not leaving without her,” Jamie said, his voice quietly dangerous. If Coningsby had any intelligence, any sort of experience with a man like Jamie, he would have known that nothing good happened when he lowered his voice in that way. Sadly, Coningsby truly was an idiot. Jamie gave a brief nod to Mary.
“The hell you are,” his lordship said loudly, pulling the girl closer.
It took two long strides before Jamie stood directly into front of the man. “Duck!” he said, keeping his gaze directed at Coningsby.
Luckily, Mary knew exactly what he meant and dropped to the floor. His lordship let go when her movement and then Jamie’s fist took him by surprise. Jamie connected with the man’s nose the moment Mary was out of the way.
As Coningsby screamed, Jamie grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her from the room. He started toward the front door with her in tow.
“No! We can’t go out that way,” she said, pulling back.
“Who’s going to stop us?”
A rather rotund, older lady was standing in their way, assisted by the butler in pulling on her pelisse, when Jamie excused himself and slipped past her, dragging Mary behind him.
They hadn’t taken two steps away from the house before Mary stopped Jamie, throwing herself into his arms and bursting into tears.
He could do nothing but rub her back consolingly. “It’s all right, now. It’s all right. He won’t ever hurt you again.” She was such a little thing. Her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. She rested it against his chest, making such a brave attempt at containing her fright.
“Thank-thank you,” she said, but a moment later, she gasped. “What are we gonna do now? We’s lost our jobs.”
“I don’t know,” Jamie admitted. “I’ll, I’ll think—” But he honestly didn’t know what he’d do now. He couldn’t go back to being an artist. It was that which had left him with only three options: go home, go into someone’s employ, or starve to death—and he wouldn’t go home. And then there was Mary…
“Young man!” a woman’s voice called from the carriage standing just in front of the house.
Jamie turned toward her. It was the same woman who he’d just passed in the Coningsby’s entry hall.
She crooked her finger at him.
He disentangled himself from Mary and approached.
She handed him a card. “Holton is my butler’s name. Tell him I told you to come ’round.” She sat back inside her carriage and rapped on the ceiling, giving her driver the go ahead to move forward.
Jamie stepped out of the way of the wheels and looked down at the card in his hand. The Duchess of Kendell it said and gave an address on Grosvenor Street.
He turned back to Mary who stood on the sidewalk with streaks from her tears dripping down her cheeks, her brown eyes wide. “It looks like we have an answer,” he said as shocked as she.
~*~
Alys Randall, the Duchess of Kendell hated men like the Earl of Coningsby. She hated them with a passion. She sat back against the well-padded seat of her carriage and forced herself to calm by taking in deep breaths. She was positively shaking.
She’d had a very pleasant visit with Lady Coningsby to discuss some charitable work they would be engaging in, and was just preparing to leave, when she’d heard shouting coming from the room just off the foyer. It was most disturbing—not just the language but the implication. It was evident that someone had discovered his lordship doing something inappropriate with one of his staff.
Sadly, this was common enough. What wasn’t, however, was a man brave enough to confront a nobleman and stop such behavior. Silently, Alys applauded the man, whoever he was.
When the footman strode from the room, dragging the scullery maid behind him and out the door, Alys was even more impressed. What a brave, idiotic thing to do, she thought as she made her way out the door to her carriage. Noticing the fellow standing nearby with the weeping girl just a few yards away, she simply had to do something. She could not, would not, stand by while these two innocent lives were destroyed by a horrid man like Lord Coningsby.
As her carriage pulled away, she knew she’d done the right thing. Never did she interfere in her butler’s handling of the staff. She knew him to be fully capable of managing it, along with the housekeeper. But this was an extenuating circumstance. She just hoped these two were not only brave but good at what they did. She would hate to have them fired soon after rescuing them from this awful, awful situation.
~*~
Jamie and Mary didn’t waste a moment but went straight to the duchess’s home. Jamie handed the card over to the skeptical footman, who answered their knock on the servant’s entrance door.
“We’re here to see Mr. Holton,” Jamie said. “The duchess sent us.”
The fellow looked at the card and then back up at Jamie with raised eyebrows. “Er, yeah, just a moment and I’ll get ’im.”
They stood in the back hall for about ten minutes waiting until, finally, a commanding-looking gentleman limped toward them. He was a good six inches shorter than Jamie, nearly bald, and probably no younger than forty-five or fifty years old. For all that, he lifted his chin into the air and said, “Yes?” in such a way that Jamie felt nervous. This was ridiculous, he thought to himself. If he could punch Lord Coningsby in the nose, he could speak with this butler, no matter how self-important he seemed.
“We’re here for jobs. I’m Jamie Douglas and this is Mary…” He looked to her. He didn’t know her last name.
“Brown,” she supplied. “Mary Brown, sir,” she curtsied.
“Yes, she’s a scullery maid, and I’m, well, I was a footman at the home of Lord and Lady Coningsby.”
“And would you care to tell me why you are no longer employed there?” the man asked with a suspicious tone to his voice.
Jamie cleared his throat. “Er, his lordship was taking liberties with Mary, and I, er, objected.”
The butler’s eyes bugged slightly from his head. “I see.”
He paused to look Jamie over. “Tall,” he said, as if checking off a mental list. “Broad. Blond. Good looking enough.”
Jamie wondered if the man was going to ask to inspect his teeth next; he felt like a stallion being examined for purchase.
“The duchess is a widow,” Mr. Holton said, finishing his examination. Jamie supposed he’d decided he would do. “The current duke resides at the Kendell estate—one of five holdings in the dukedom,” the butler continued. “This household is tightly run, maintaining the highest standard. I, er, assume you have no letters of recommendation.”
“No, sir, we do not. However, we would be willing to come on for a probationary period. If you are not happy with our work, we will seek employment elsewhere,” Jamie said with a great deal more confidence than he felt. He imagined Mary felt the same way, but she nodded her agreement.
The butler nodded. “Very well. You may see Mrs. Holton, the housekeeper, to be measured for livery.” He stepped back to allow them farther into the house.
Chapter Two
~March 26~
Lady Margaret sat on the comfortable Grecian sofa in the Duchess of Kendell’s drawing room. She pulled forward the menu for Lady Norman’s wedding celebrations she and her sister-in-law, Tina, the Duchess of Warwick, had put together the last time they’d met.
Lady Norman was close to Tina and marrying her father, so she had volunteered to help organize the wedding. Margaret was very happy to assist, and quickly, the two young women found themselves to be the sole organizers of two rather large parties, the wedding breakfast, and the ball the following day. Tina had even offered to host the ball in her home, which was one of a few houses in London with a ballroom large enough for such a crowd.
The menu still needed a lot of work, though, and they probably needed to discuss it with Tina’s cook, who would be overseeing everything first hand. Much would depend on what was in the market and in what quantities.
For the wedding breakfast, the number of guests would be kept small—only the fifty or so people who were invited to the ceremony itself. The ball the following evening, however, would have hundreds of guests, and they would all need to be fed supper as well as smaller finger-foods throughout the evening.
They would start today by going over the dishes for the wedding breakfast, Margaret decided. One thing at a time. She looked down the list of possible dishes and started pairing them for each course.
“You are always hard at work when I come,” Tina said, entering the elegant gold-hued room. Her voice made Margaret jump. She laughed at her own silliness as she stood to give her sister-in-law a quick curtsey.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Tina said, sitting in a matching chair opposite Margaret.
“Of course I do. You’re the duchess,” Margaret said.
“And you’re the duke’s sister.”
“And you need to get used to people paying deference to you,” Margaret added with a little laugh.
Tina scrunched up her face in disgust at that. “I don’t need people—”
“You may not need it, but you should expect it and receive it,” Margaret interrupted.
“I think we’ll agree to disagree on this one,” Tina said finally. “Now, tell me how your search for a husband is going.”
“Oh! I thought you were here to go over the menus,” Margaret said.
“I am, but honestly, I’m much more interested in you and how you’re doing. The wedding isn’t for another three weeks.”
Margaret sat back and smiled at her sister-in-law. Now that she was happily married, Tina was determined to see Margaret in the same happy state. Margaret didn’t even think her sister-in-law gave a thought to the fact that there was a set deadline by which Margaret had to marry or lose her inheritance. Tina just wanted to see Margaret happy and settled.
But finding a husband was currently the bane of Margaret’s existence. She hated being on the marriage mart. She’d hated it last season, and she hated it even more this one. She was too shy to laugh and flirt and attract gentlemen like most girls her age. If she had a choice, she’d never go to another society party ever again. Sadly, she didn’t have a choice.
Even as her smile faltered, Margaret lifted a shoulder negligently. “I’m doing my best.”
“By which, I assume, you mean you’re not doing anything,” Tina said, reading through her words.
“No! I’m going to parties,” Margaret said defensively. Tina didn’t go to many parties. She didn’t need to, and since she hadn’t yet learned how to dance to her satisfaction, she avoided most engagements unless they were a soirée where dancing wasn’t expected. Margaret envied her sister-in-law to no end.
“Are you encouraging gentlemen to dance with you, spend time with you, flirt with you?” Tina asked.
“I don’t know how to encourage a man to flirt with me,” Margaret said slightly aghast.
“By flirting with them!”
“But I don’t know how to flirt.” Margaret tried really hard not to whine.
“I know. It’s not easy,” Tina said, finally letting up on her. “Just please, try.”
Margaret looked at her sister-in-law and then narrowed her eyes. “Warwick put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“What? Your brother?” Tina asked, widening her bright green eyes. They were very pretty. Margaret had always thought so, wishing her eyes were as bright as Tina’s instead the watery, washed-out blue of her own eyes.
Margaret laughed. “Yes, my brother. I know him, if you remember, and I know he’s desperate for me to marry.”
“He’s worried,” Tina admitted.
“I have this entire season to find someone.”
“And you had all last season too,” Tina pointed out, making Margaret wince. Tina sat forward. “Please, Margaret, can you try just a little harder?”
Sighing heavily, Margaret nodded. “I will try, but you know how difficult it is for me.”
“I do. Truly, I do. But I also know that you can do it if you put your mind to it. My goodness, you danced with the prince at your own debut ball! And you made him laugh! If you can do that, you can certainly attract other gentlemen. You just have to put your mind to it.”
“But you see, that’s the problem. I was trying with the prince. I was trying very hard. But I don’t want to marry a man I have to always be trying to impress—it would be too exhausting. And besides, you were there supporting me as was Warwick. I don’t have that anymore.”
“You have the duchess.”
“Yes, but she’s not as…” Margaret lifted a shoulder and dropped it again. “She’s very sweet and so kind to chaperone me this season but…”
“Please, Margaret,” Tina said, looking at her imploringly.
“Yes, yes. I promise,” Margaret finally relented. “Now, can we look at the menu?”
“Yes. Let’s go over the menus.”
~*~
Margaret walked Tina to the door after they’d finished with their work.
“Now, don’t forget, you have promised to do your best at the ball this evening,” Tina reminded her.
“Yes, I remember,” Margaret said. She hadn’t forgotten. How could she, when it filled her with such trepidation? Flirt? Her? She hadn’t a clue as to how to do so. But she’d promised because there really had been no other choice—and she wanted to make her brother and Tina happy.
“Good. I’ll see you then.” Tina gave a nod to the footman who opened the door for her.
“Oh! Will you be there?” Margaret asked.
Tina scowled. “Yes. Warwick is insisting I attend more parties. I think he’s hoping to convince me to actually take the leap and dance—in public!”
Margaret laughed at her sister-in-law. “Well, if I can put myself forward with the gentlemen then you can dance.”
Tina scoffed but gave her a smile and a wave and went out to her waiting carriage.
Margaret started to return to the sitting room when she suddenly noticed the footman. She stopped. She didn’t recall ever seeing him before. She would most certainly have noticed such an Adonis.
All footmen were easy on the eyes. It was one trait which all employers looked for, although Margaret did have to admit that the duchess wasn’t especially particular in that regard. But this man… He was tall, blond, and blue-eyed, and the way he filled out his livery made it difficult for Margaret to keep her eyes above his shoulders—his very, broad shoulders. Somehow, they kept straying down his long regal neck, broad chest, narrow hips, and well-turned calves encased in white stockings.
Her eyes flew back up to his face. He’d raised an eyebrow at her inspection of him and seemed to be trying very hard not to smile. Just before her gaze met his, he quickly reverted to staring blankly over her shoulder as a good servant should. Margaret felt her face heat with embarrassment.
“Are you new?” she asked the man. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall seeing you before.”
“Yes, my lady,” he said, in a soft baritone with a refined accent. What footman had such impeccable diction? “I started the day before yesterday, but today is my first day at the front door, er, the butler insisted. I believe he doesn’t like taking the position?”
“It’s difficult for him with his lame leg,” she explained briefly. “What is your name?” she asked because she always liked to address people by their correct names. She knew some people simply called all their footman the same name, so they didn’t have to actually notice who was serving them, but Margaret thought that a horrid practice.
“James, my lady. My friends call me Jamie,” he added.
“James,” she said with a smile—she didn’t dare presume friendship. “It’s very nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy working here.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He bowed slightly and continued to stare over her shoulder.
How odd it was that Margaret wished he would look at her instead. She shook off her fancy and turned to go back upstairs. She paused with one foot on the first step unable to get past his refined accent. “Where are you from, James?”
He’d returned to his station, a chair just inside the door, but hadn’t yet sat down again. Margaret had always been happy that the duchess allowed her footmen to sit while on duty. It was so ridiculous to insist they stand for hours, doing nothing but waiting for someone to knock on the door. “The north, my lady,” James said without elaborating further.
“Oh. You don’t have an accent. You speak very well, in fact,” she commented.
He looked startled, even worried for a moment, but then quickly schooled his face into impassivity. “Thank you, my lady. I’ve been told I’m a good mimic. I pick up accents quickly.”
“I see,” she nodded. That made sense. “What a wonderful talent.”
“Yes, my lady.”
~*~
Jamie watched Lady Margaret slowly float up the stairs, her filmy sprigged white muslin gown flowing around her. Why didn’t he have his sketchbook when he needed it? On the other hand, he didn’t know if he would be allowed to have a sketchbook while on front door duty. He’d have to ask.
But my word, she was even more beautiful up close than he’d realized.
Mr. Holton had pointed the young lady out as he and Mary had been given a tour of the house and informed of all the rules and expectations. Holton had informed them that Lady Margaret was the duchess’s charge for the season and a guest in the house. She was to be treated with the utmost respect, they’d been told, as if she were a duchess herself, which made sense since she wasn’t too far off, being the sister to one.
Seeing Lady Margaret in passing through a doorway and having her stand directly in front of him couldn’t have been more different from sketching with a pencil to using a paint brush to create a portrait. Seeing her at a distance she could have been dull, one-dimensional, but in person, face-to-face, she was vibrant, beautiful, soft and—what really surprised Jamie—kind.
A duke’s sister didn’t usually notice footmen, and they certainly didn’t speak to them asking their names. Whoever heard of such a thing? Perhaps, the sister of a baron or a baronet might recognize a servant, but a lady of her stature? It wasn’t to be expected. And yet she had been there, standing in front of him, smiling at him, making his heart pound and his skin prickle with awareness at her closeness.
He just couldn’t get her image out of his mind.
She was…ethereal. Angelic. Soft, gentle, and oh-so lovely. She was like a waif or what Jamie had always imagined the fae folk might look like—slender and delicate with big blue eyes and rich, mahogany-colored hair. Just imagining her, Jamie began to feel warm and aware of parts of his anatomy he’d tried his best to forget.
And so he should! He was a servant in this house, nothing more. He had no right even thinking about Lady Margaret, let alone imagining her anywhere near his bedchamber. He nearly groaned as the image flashed in his mind’s eye—Margaret stretched seductively on his bed with nothing but a sheet covering her…
No! He wouldn’t, couldn’t go there.
He quickly imagined the duchess in the room with him and Lady Margaret. Oh, yes, that was much better. His ardor cooled immediately. That look of shock and disgust in the duchess’s eyes would be enough to keep a man celibate for a good long time.
Much better, Jamie thought. No more imagining Lady Margaret anywhere but in the drawing room.
He shook his head in disgust at himself. He wasn’t normally the kind to think with his nether parts. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. He was a footman, and he would maintain a proper distance and do his best to keep his thoughts about its occupants correct as well.
Chapter Three
~March 28~
Margaret and the Duchess of Kendell entered the beautiful home of the Marquess of Danby. Lord and Lady Danby greeted them, but Margaret quickly moved forward to her good friend Diana, the Danby’s daughter-in-law.
“Margaret, it’s so wonderful to see you this evening,” Diana said as she curtsied.
“And you,” Margaret said. She then leaned forward and asked, “Is it going to be a crush, do you think?”
“I’m sorry to say I do think it will be. It’s Lady Danby’s first gathering since she regained her health, and there are a number of people who wish to pay their respects.”
“They couldn’t do that in a smaller setting? In her drawing room?” Margaret asked, drawing her eyebrows down.
Diana gave a little laugh. “No. There are far too many.”
“Margaret, we’ve taken up enough of Lady Colburne’s time,” the duchess said gently.
“Oh, yes,” Margaret said, turning to look behind her to see the number of people lined up to enter and speak with the hosts.
“We’ll speak later,” Diana said with a smile.
Margaret gave a nod and then followed her chaperone and dear friend into the ballroom. Truly, she didn’t know what she would do without the duchess.
Her Grace had been a good friend to Margaret’s mother, the Duchess of Warwick, when Margaret had been a child. The one thing the two women had never agreed upon was how Margaret had been treated. Naturally, the Duchess of Kendell hadn’t been able to say much to her friend at the time, although she had spoken up for the girl on occasion.
Now, however, she was doing a great deal to atone for years of staying quiet. She had accepted Margaret into her own home, agreed to chaperone her for the season, and was helping her to find a husband. It was much more than Margaret’s own mother would have done for her, or anyone else, to be honest. Margaret would be eternally grateful, but for now, she would simply do what was expected of her, which was a great deal more difficult than anyone realized.
Margaret took in a deep breath and tried her best to still her pounding heart as they paused just inside the ballroom door. All her instincts told her to turn and run, or shrink back and find some place to hide. But she couldn’t. She’d promised Tina that she would try, and so try she would.
Taking in another breath, she forced her lips up into a smile. She could do this. She could do this.
What was she saying? She was ugly! She was too skinny. She had no conversation. No intelligence. She would never be anything but a burden! Why would anyone want to speak with her, let alone dance with her, let alone marry her? Margaret’s mother’s voice filled her head.
All her life she’d been told these things; of course they were true. She knew Warwick had always said otherwise, but he was her brother. Tina had told her that she was pretty, but she’d just wanted to befriend Margaret. At first it was to get work since she’d been Margaret’s modiste, and then, later, to get close to Warwick. Tina claimed otherwise, but Margaret knew the truth.
“Lady Margaret, how wonderful to see you this evening,” Lydia, Lady Welles said, coming up to her and the duchess.
Lydia was such a sweet girl. She was always laughing, making jokes, flirting with gentlemen—well, she’d mostly stopped doing that in the last year, ever since she’d met and fallen in love with Lord Welles. They’d married at the end of last season. But marriage hadn’t changed the fact that she was a lot fun to be around. Yes, she was the perfect person to pull Margaret from her doldrums.
“Lydia, you look beautiful as always,” Margaret said, trying to keep the envy from her voice. Her friend was fair and pretty, but it was really her smile that made her attractive. Margaret recognized that and tried to do her best to emulate her. Now that Lydia was married, she could wear the bolder colors that truly became her. This evening she was in a bright green gown that brought out the color of her eyes and made her cheeks look flushed and pretty.
“As do you, Margaret. I love the cut of your gown. It makes you look so willowy and elegant. I envy you your figure,” Lydia said with a bright smile.
Margaret was certain she was just saying that to be kind. She truly was a good friend. Willowy was just a nice way of saying skinny, which indeed, was what Margaret was. No matter how much she ate her proportions just stayed the same. “You are too kind. Of course, Tina designed this dress. She has such an incredible talent.”
“Yes, she does,” Lydia agreed. She turned to face the room. “So, who do you have your eye on tonight?” she asked with a giggle.
“Me? Oh! No one, I’m sure,” Margaret said, slightly taken aback.
“But why not? You should pick two or three men you want to dance with and then make sure they ask you. How else are you going to find the one man who is right for you?”
“I…I thought I’d wait for them to come to me,” Margaret said. She’d never heard of such an outrageous idea! Persuading a man to ask her to dance? How did one do that?
“Well, I suppose you could do it that way. I always preferred to make the choice myself, but then, I do like being in control,” she said with another laugh.
“And you have no qualms about hinting that a gentleman should ask you to dance?” Margaret asked curiously.
“No, not at all. It’s actually much easier for the gentleman. He believes that you’re interested in him, when in fact you just want to get to know him a little better to see if you would suit.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Margaret said, considering her words. “If I had the nerve to be so bold…”
“It doesn’t take much, to tell you the truth. A flutter of your fan or a bat of your eyelashes and they’ll come running. Try it, you’ll see,” Lydia said.
“I have to say, she’s right,” the duchess said, joining in their conversation. “I used to do the same thing when I was young, and I have seen Lydia and a number of other ladies do so. You might consider giving it a try.”
“Oh, I don’t think…” Margaret could feel her cheeks grow warm. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Try it,” Lydia said, putting a hand on her arm, encouraging her.
“Good evening, Your Grace. Lady Margaret. Lady Welles,” Mr. Hershawn said, coming up to them, accompanied by Lord Roseberry. The two men were almost never seen without the other. They both bowed to the ladies.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the duchess said, nodding her acknowledgement while Margaret and Lydia curtsied.
“What is it that must be tried, Lady Welles? Some new confection, perhaps? Or a fascinating new book?” Mr. Hershawn asked, turning a smile on to Lydia.
Lydia giggled. “I was just telling Lady Margaret that some gentlemen prefer it when a lady lets it be known that she is interested in dancing.”
Margaret wished she could simply sink through the floor. Never had she been so embarrassed! It had to be completely clear Lydia was telling them that she was interested in being asked to dance. She wondered if she appeared to be desperate.
“Oh, you mean with a look or a flutter of a fan,” Mr. Hershawn said with a nod.
“I appreciate it. It is nice to know when a young lady is interested,” Lord Roseberry said.
“Yes. What’s disturbing is when a young lady looks at you from across the room, and then by the time you finally get over to her she’s agreed to dance with someone else,” Mr. Hershawn said.
“I can see how that would be disheartening,” the duchess agreed. “But on the whole, you like to know when a young lady is interested?”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Hershawn said quickly.
“It does make things easier,” Lord Roseberry agreed.
“Not that anyone would turn down an offer to dance from either of you gentlemen,” Margaret said quietly.
Both men turned smiles on to her. “Not yet, Lady Margaret,” Lord Roseberry said.
“I say, Lady Margaret, has anyone asked you to dance yet this evening?” Mr. Hershawn asked.
“No,” Margaret said, looking for that hole in the floor she’d wished for earlier.
“Would you care to dance with me, my lady?” he asked.
Her cheeks burned again, but in her heart, she was grateful to the gentleman. “Why, thank you, sir. That is most kind. I would enjoy that a great deal.”
“I don’t think it’s kind at all. It’s for my own enjoyment, I assure you. I’m a terribly selfish fellow,” he said with a smile.
Margaret gave a little laugh and nodded. As if on cue, the orchestra began warming up for the first set of dances, and Mr. Hershawn held out his arm to lead her to the floor.
She was trying, she told herself. She was definitely trying harder, just as she’d promised Tina.
~*~
Mr. Hershawn was such a thoughtful man, Margaret thought as he entertained her with silly small talk throughout their dance. When he returned her to the duchess, Diana was there, chatting with the older lady.
Mr. Hershawn stopped to have a pleasant word with the two ladies before going off to find a partner for the next dance.
“You looked like you were having fun,” Diana commented with a smile.
“He is a very nice man,” Margaret agreed.
“I see Lord Rexford looking in this direction,” the duchess said, looking off to their right pointedly.
“Well, before you get whisked away again,” Diana said with a laugh, “I just wanted to invite you to join me, Lydia, and Miss Kendrick for a ride tomorrow.”
“Oh, I would love to join you!” Margaret said with feeling. It so wonderful when her friends invited her to join them. It made her feel welcome and as if they truly were friends. “And I would appreciate the opportunity to get to know Miss Kendrick better. I’ve only spoken with her once, but she seems to be a very nice girl.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” Diana said.
Lord Rexford hovered just beyond Diana until the duchess gave him a nod, allowing him to come forward. He was a quiet man, Margaret thought approvingly. She really didn’t know him well at all, but he seemed as if he would be a pleasant companion. It was lovely that he’d worked up the courage to join them and perhaps even ask her to dance.
Later that evening, as they were on their way home, the duchess turned to Margaret. “You did very well tonight. I’m proud of you. You danced and chatted, and I only had to pull you away from the wall once—no, twice. Still, it’s an improvement.”
Margaret’s pride faltered only a little at being reminded of her lapses. “Thank you, Your Grace. I did try harder this evening.”
The lady gave a nod. “And it showed. Keep it up and you’ll have quite a few beaux chasing after you and, hopefully, a number of proposals before the season is through.”
The thought of that coming true had Margaret shaking in her slippers, despite the fact that it was precisely what she needed. Well, they would see if that actually came to pass—if she was able to keep this up. It was exhausting and hard work being social. “One step at a time, I think,” Margaret replied.
The duchess gave a little laugh and patted Margaret’s hand.
Chapter Four
~March 29~
Jamie was enjoying a break below stairs, getting a breath of fresh air while standing in the open doorway, when Mary suddenly appeared at his side. She smiled up at him with her wide mouth and round cheeks looking adorable.
“Jamie! I haven’t seen ye in forever!” she said, mimicking him by leaning against the opposite door jamb.
“So, where have you been?” he asked with a laugh.
“Workin’. They don’t like the upper servants mixin’ with the lower ones here. It’s funny,” she said with a shrug.
It was true, though. At the Congingby’s household there was much more opportunity for the different classes of servants to mix, but there was a much stricter hierarchy here. Jamie supposed it had more to do with the butler and housekeeper than the master and mistress making the rules.
“Well, it’s great to see you,” Jamie said, putting his hand on Mary’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”
“Real good!” she said with enthusiasm. “I’s made friends, and there’s no lord here ta bother me. Mrs. Holton makes sure the blokes are kept away from the girls too. She keeps a close eye on us girls. It’s kinda nice.”
“I’m really glad to hear that. And she doesn’t work you too hard?”
“Naw. Just the regular sweepin’ and cleanin’. I’m used to it,” she said with a negligent lift of her shoulder.
“James!” Mr. Holton’s voice boomed from the other end of the hall, making Jamie jump.
He spun around. “Yes, sir.”
“You would not be fraternizing with the scullery maid.” It wasn’t a question, more of a command.
“No, sir. Just checking in on my friend,” Jamie answered.
He received a frown, but before he could be reprimanded any further, Jamie gave Mary a quick wink and moved toward the butler saying, “I have a question, sir, if I may?”
The man lowered his eyelids suspiciously. “What would that be?”
“I was wondering if I might keep a book or something else to occupy myself when I’m on front-door duty and there are no guests expected?”
Mr. Holton’s eyebrows rose on his forehead as he thought about it. “You own your own books? There’s to be no borrowing of those in the library, they are strictly off limits to the likes of you.”
“I do own one or two, sir, and I would never presume to borrow one of the duchess’s,” Jamie answered.
“And it would only be when there are no guests.”
“Absolutely, sir. And if either of the ladies of the house or a guest were to appear, my book would disappear as quickly if not faster.”
The butler nodded slowly. “All right, then. The duchess has said that she approves of activities to better ourselves. I suppose reading counts.”
“Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate it.” Jamie bowed and then left to go up the back stairs to his room and create a small sketchbook for himself that would fit into his pocket. He had some paper he’d bought with his salary a few weeks earlier. It should do nicely.
