The Determined Debutante E-Book

Meredith Bond

• Herausgeber: Anessa Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Winning isn’t everything when love is on the line.
Clarissa Ellison is your typical Aries: everything is a competition. So, when she makes her debut into Regency London Society, she determines that in order to "win" the Season, she must get a proposal from the Duke of Drayton. The only problem is that his closest friend, the handsome and thoughtful Lord Uxbridge, is quickly becoming someone she can't live without.
Jonathan, Lord Uxbridge, has always been called "Ox" for the obvious reason—he's big. But, as a true Gemini, there are two sides to this man. To the world, he's outgoing, but in private, he relaxes by painting beautiful miniatures. Because his size generally puts fear into the eyes of young ladies, Ox had planned on never marrying. But a large bequest to be given on his wedding day makes him decide otherwise. He sets his mind to winning Miss Buttery-Clements, who can match him for size, but his heart has decided on another—the fascinating and delicate Miss Ellison.
The two decide to be just friends, setting aside the advice of their friend and astrological scholar Lady Preston, but the stars—or is it destiny? —will ensure this is a match made in the heavens.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Book Description

The Determined Debutante

Copyright

Dedication

Zodiac

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

Epilogue

The Willful Wallflower

Chapter One

About the Author

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Books By Meredith Bond

Clarissa Ellison is your typical Aries: everything is a competition. So, when she makes her debut into Regency London Society, she determines that in order to "win" the Season, she must get a proposal from the Duke of Drayton. The only problem is that his closest friend, the handsome and thoughtful Lord Uxbridge, is quickly becoming someone she can't live without.

Jonathan, Lord Uxbridge, has always been called "Ox" for the obvious reason—he's big. But, as a true Gemini, there are two sides to this man. To the world, he's outgoing, but in private, he relaxes by painting beautiful miniatures. Because his size generally puts fear into the eyes of young ladies, Ox had planned on never marrying. But a large bequest to be given on his wedding day makes him decide otherwise. He sets his mind to winning Miss Buttery-Clements, who can match him for size, but his heart has decided on another—the fascinating and delicate Miss Ellison.

The two decide to be just friends, setting aside the advice of their friend and astrological scholar Lady Preston, but the stars—or is it destiny? —will ensure this is a match made in the heavens.

The Determined Debutante

A Zodiac Regency Romance

Book 1

 

Meredith Bond

Copyright 2024, 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.

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all right to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Editing by The Editing HallCover Art by Briar Banerji

Published by Annessa Ink, http://www.annessaink.com.

Dedication

My great thanks go to Byron Buttery-Clements, who was kind enough to allow me to use his wonderful name. I hope I did it justice. Thanks, Byron!!

Aries (March 20-April 19): At their core, Aries do things their own way. They are unafraid of conflict, highly competitive, and honest. They throw themselves at the world eagerly and without fear. Aries are driven by a desire to prove themselves and their strength.

Gemini (May 21-June 20): Geminis are very intelligent and pick up knowledge quickly. They are perceptive, analytical, and often very funny. They have an unreserved, childlike curiosity, always asking new questions. Geminis have an uncanny ability to size up a person’s character in a matter of seconds, even if they only just met them. They are great communicators because they tend to be very responsive and sensitive listeners. Geminis are versatile, comfortable being both introverts and extroverts.

Chapter One

“Ooof!” The pile of books Lady Rebecca Preston had been carrying dropped to the floor with a flutter of paper and one very loud thud.

“Oh! I do beg your pardon,” a young woman said, immediately squatting down to pick up the fallen books.

“No, not at all,” Rebecca said, joining her. “I’m not entirely certain it wasn’t my fault. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The girl laughed. “I had my nose in a book and wasn’t watching either.”

Rebecca smiled at the pretty young lady. Her auburn hair was pulled up, but a few strands of wavy hair had escaped, and Rebecca could see that one of her hairpins was about to fall out. She reached out and shoved it back into place before smiling into the girl’s surprised blue eyes.

“I do beg your pardon. Your hairpin was about to fall out, and I, well, I couldn’t help myself.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed delicately. “I’m afraid my maid isn’t very good at putting up my hair, but she’s learning,” she said, reaching to the back of her head to ensure her other pins were secure.

“It can be difficult to find someone experienced,” Rebecca agreed.

“Er, yes,” the girl said with hesitation.

They both stood up, now each holding a pile of books. Rebecca was surprised when the girl stood at her full height. She was extremely tall, taller than a number of men Rebecca knew. She was also, unfortunately, stick thin. Her gown hung on her like a sack—a sack made of good material and edged with lace, but a sack, nonetheless.

“I am Clarissa Ellison,” the girl said.

“Lady Preston,” Rebecca replied. “But you do know you shouldn’t introduce yourself?”

“Oh!” The girl turned a deeper shade of pink. “Uh, yes, of course. It, er, just seemed the thing to do,” she explained.

Rebecca smiled at her. Her eyes fell to the book at the top of the pile in her hands. “The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness,” she read out loud.

“I believe that one’s mine,” the young lady said, snatching it back.

Rebecca gave a little laugh. “Yes, obviously.” She could practically hear the girl swallow with embarrassment. “You wouldn’t happen to be new to Town?”

She gave a little nod and lowered her gaze to the books in her hands.

“It’s perfectly all right. I am not a such stickler for propriety,” Rebecca reassured her.

Miss Ellison lifted her gaze with a grateful expression. “Thank you. My aunt would be mortified if she knew…”

“No need to tell her. This will be our little secret.” Rebecca looked around. “Is she here, your aunt?”

“Oh, er, no. I snuck out of the house to come and purchase these books, I’m afraid. I do have my maid with me, though!” the girl added quickly. “I remembered to bring her.”

Rebecca nodded slowly, trying her hardest not to laugh. “That’s very good. You should never venture out without either your maid or a footman.”

“Yes, I was warned of that.”

Rebecca spied one of her own books in the pile the girl was holding. “I believe the Hutchins Almanack is mine.”

Miss Ellison moved the top book to the bottom of the pile and opened the book that was now on top, as it had nothing on the front cover. “Hutchins Improved: Being an Almanack and Ephemeris of the Motions of the Sun and Moon for the Year of Our Lord 1809.” She looked up with her eyebrows drawn down. “What is that—if you will excuse me for asking?”

Rebecca took the book and added it to her pile. “It’s a book to help me calculate horoscopes.”

She shook her head, not understanding.

“Have you heard of the Zodiac?” Rebecca asked.

“No, what is it?” Miss Ellison asked, clearly very curious.

“The position of the stars at your birth. They determine what sort of person you are and, some believe, can even be used to predict times when good things will happen and bad,” Rebecca explained.

“Really? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” The girl was clearly fascinated, which made Rebecca happier than it ought.

“Oh yes, it is something people have studied since biblical times. The Greeks studied it extensively, as have the Arabs, Chinese, and Indians.”

“Goodness! And it is something you study as well?”

“Yes. It’s a fun hobby of mine.” Rebecca paused and then cocked her head a little. “Tell me when you were born, and I can tell you a little about yourself.”

Miss Ellison’s eyes widened. “March 27th.”

Rebecca nodded. “You were born under the astrological sign of Aries. It means that you are very energetic and competitive. You’re also very caring and an excellent leader. But you can be impulsive and not think things through before you act.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Rebecca chuckled. “I see that I am right.”

Miss Ellison just nodded.

“Are you in Town to make your debut, Miss Ellison?” Rebecca asked.

“Er, yes, yes, I am,” she answered with a quick shake of her head as if to clear it for the change in topic.

Rebecca nodded. “Well, I should warn you, then, to try to wait until you have met a good number of gentlemen before choosing one to marry. I do hope your aunt is very levelheaded.”

Miss Ellison frowned. “I suppose you could call her that. Uninterested would probably be more accurate.”

The little snort of air escaped Rebecca as she tried to hold back her laughter. “Oh, dear. Well, if you need any assistance, please do not hesitate to call. I go to all the best engagements and know a great many people.” She fished a calling card from her reticule. “If you’ll accompany me to the counter, I’ll write my direction on the back.”

“Thank you! You are so very kind, ma’am,” the girl said as she followed in Rebecca’s wake.

Clarissa was let into her uncle’s town house by Tom, the footman. “Lady Morley has requested your presence in the drawing room, Miss Ellison,” he told her in ominous tones.

“Oh, dear.” She quickly handed off the books she was carrying to her maid Annie. The bookseller had been kind enough to wrap them in brown paper so no one could read the titles as Clarissa walked home. “Please take these up to my room,” she said, handing over her hat as well.

She started to jog up the stairs and then remembered that proper young ladies only walked with decorum, no matter what—or so said her aunt. She slowed and walked the rest of the way, her back held straight and her chin high just as she’d been taught.

“Good morning, Aunt Lily,” Clarissa said as she breezed through the door to the drawing room.

Her aunt simply scowled at her as she looked up from her embroidery. Her hair was still the same wheat-blonde it had always been, but the lines on her face told their own story. “Where have you been, Miss?”

“At the bookseller’s,” Clarissa told her. She eyed the sofa and then remembered that she should probably wait to be invited to sit down before doing so. She stood in front of her aunt, trying her best to look innocent and demure with her hands clasped at her waist.

“And who gave you permission to go out on your own?” the woman asked.

Clarissa opened her mouth but had nothing to say to that.

“Did your uncle say that you could go out? I certainly did not,” Lady Morley prodded further.

“No, ma’am. I took Annie with me,” Clarissa put in for good measure.

“You may not leave the house without permission.” It was a statement. A law. A command, even.

Clarissa clenched her jaw but nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I will not do so again.” She hoped that sounded sincere despite the fact that inside her head she was screaming with rage. She’d never had to ask permission of anyone to do something so innocuous as going to a shop with her maid at home. No, at home, everyone asked her for permission to do things. But Clarissa wasn’t the mistress of this house, she reminded herself for probably the one-hundredth time since she’d come to London a week ago.

She was not only not the mistress of the house, but she was a guest—one who was not appreciated by the mistress. Clarissa was well aware of this since her aunt had not hesitated to inform her. She was here by the kindness of Clarissa’s uncle, the Baron Morley, who had been so generous to give her a Season—just one, as her aunt reminded her. And if Clarissa’s father hadn’t been a viscount, Aunt Lily had assured her, she would not even have been given that opportunity, for surely no one would deign to marry an ignorant girl who’d grown up in seclusion on her father’s estate. Clarissa wouldn’t have called being in the company of her eight siblings, her father, and a good number of tenants seclusion, but it was true that she had not exactly mingled among what society there was in Salisbury.

Her father, much to her uncle’s chagrin, cared little for society. Instead, he devoted himself to the upkeep of his estate, which was quite large, to be sure. He did all he could, he informed his children, to keep the estate as profitable as possible so as to rebuild the family coffers. He would not leave Frederick, his heir, with nothing but an empty title. In other words, he was a miser and a bit of a hermit. He didn’t believe in spending more than was absolutely necessary on himself or his children. Everything went into the estate.

If it hadn’t been for the generosity of her uncle, Clarissa would never have been given the opportunity to have a Season—and her aunt reminded her of this daily.

Aunt Lily seemed satisfied with this response. She had just opened her mouth, probably to remind Clarissa that her presence was being suffered only because of Lord Morley’s generosity, when the gentleman himself strolled into the room.

“Ah, here are my two lovely ladies,” he said with a broad smile covering his cherubic face. His brown hair had only a few silver strands lacing through it, and his blue eyes twinkled as happily as they ever had. Although he was middle-aged, his height allowed him to carry his extra pounds well.

Clarissa turned and curtsied to her uncle. “Good morning, Uncle. I hope you are faring well today?”

“I am! I am indeed,” he said, giving Clarissa a chuck under the chin. “But haven’t I told you, you don’t need to curtsy every time I walk into a room, my dear. We are family.” He said the last word with a great deal of emphasis, as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world—and to Clarissa, it truly was.

She smiled at the sweet old man. “Yes, my… Uncle, I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“That’s a girl. Well, certainly no harm done.” He turned to his wife. “And what are your plans for the day, madam? Taking our dear little Clarissa to your modiste?”

The woman scowled at her husband. “Yes,” she snapped. “We’ve already ordered some day dresses. Today we’ll see about a ballgown or two.”

“Do make it three,” her uncle interrupted. “Or even four!”

Lady Morley looked astounded. “My lord, the cost!”

He waved a hand in the air, as if he were brushing aside a foul smell.

The woman pinched her lips together for a moment before continuing, “We’ll see if anything can be done for the girl. She is so skinny I worry that anything Madam Celeste makes will hang on her like that.” She indicated the gown, which Clarissa had made herself.

Clarissa knew it wasn’t the most flattering dress, but she only had three, and this was one of the better ones.

“Oh, I’m sure she will. I’m sure she will,” Uncle Lawrence said with a chuckle. “We will see her transform into a real beauty once she is out of her chrysalis.”

His wife snorted. “Chrysalis, indeed,” she said softly. “Sack is more like it.”

“Well then, I shall leave you to it. I simply came in to inform you that I was going out to my club. I shall be home later in the afternoon.” He gave Clarissa’s cheek another little tap and an encouraging smile before leaving the room.

Aunt Lily shook her head after he’d closed the door behind himself. “He goes to his club every morning, comes home every afternoon, and still, he informs me of it.” She turned to glare at Clarissa. “You see? Even your uncle tells me when he is going out.”

Clarissa lowered her gaze to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, girl. Go and take off your pelisse and then rejoin me here. We’ll go through the magazines and see if we can’t find some designs that will make you look less like a stick and more like a young lady who a gentleman would want to marry.”

Jonathan, the Earl of Uxbridge, turned slightly to one side so he could eye the steep steps going down from the attic before he began to descend them.

“Do be careful, Jonathan,” his mother said from below.

He paused to make sure of his footing.

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to that chest,” she continued.

He chuckled. “And here I thought you were concerned for my safety. No, it is the safety of this chest that concerns you,” he said as he reached the bottom.

His mother laughed. “Your bones are not nearly as fragile as a one-hundred-year-old chest.”

He started down the next flight of stairs with his mother following as quickly as her bad knees would allow. His mother had always been a well-padded woman. Sadly, age, and perhaps a little too much added weight, made walking difficult for her. “I suppose you are right. I have never broken a bone, and this chest looks like it’s ready to collapse in on itself.”

“Oh, no! Do not say so,” his mother said, sounding truly worried.

“Well, all right, perhaps it’s not quite that bad, but mold is definitely growing on the sides and most likely the bottom as well. I shall have to see if there is a leak in the roof.”

“Oh dear, I certainly hope not.” She then called out, “Robert, is the door to my sitting room open?”

“Yes, my lady,” the footman called back.

Jonathan, or Ox, as most everybody called him except for his mother, carried the chest into the room and set it down carefully next to the settee.

His mother hurried in after him. He took out his handkerchief and was wiping the cobwebs and mold from his hands when she said, “Hmm, no. I’ve changed my mind. Robert, can you take it into my bedchamber? I think it would be better to go through it there.”

The footman, nearly as tall as Ox and quite broad in the shoulder, situated himself in front of the trunk so he could lift it up. But the thing didn’t budge. The man stood up and tried to lift just one handle, perhaps to drag it into the other room, but he could barely lift it an inch off the floor.

Laughing, Ox pocketed his handkerchief and lifted the chest once again to take it into his mother’s bedroom. He could hear her chuckle and say consolingly to the footman, “It’s all right, Robert. There are few men as strong as his lordship.”

“Yes, my lady. It is quite, er, remarkable,” he said tactfully.

Unnatural was what many had called him, but he rather liked remarkable. Ox had earned his nickname not because he was stubborn or bullheaded, but due to his size. He’d always towered over all the other boys in school and had the strength of a full-grown man by the time he was eleven—and it had only increased from there.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” said Andrews, their butler, stepping into the open doorway.

Ox put down the trunk once again, this time at the foot of his mother’s bed. He looked toward the man as he straightened up.

“The Duke of Drayton is here, sir. I’ve shown him into your study.”

Chapter Two

Ox started to nod and then stopped. His study? Had he closed the door to his studio? He didn’t think so. He’d been in there when his mother had requested he come to carry the chest down. “Excuse me,” he said to his mother as he bolted from the room. The butler jumped out of his way, and he took the steps down to the ground floor two at a time.

“Drayton!” Ox said, bursting into his study.

“My God! I thought there was a stampede for a moment. It sounded like an entire herd of cattle was coming down the stairs. Was that you?” said Ox’s closest friend, from the time they were boys together at Eton. He stood at the side table, clearly about to help himself to a glass of brandy, the decanter in one hand, its top in the other.

“I do beg your pardon,” Ox said, coming forward. “I was, er, excited to hear that you’d come to visit.” He put his arms around the other man’s shoulders and gave him a pat on his back in a friendly manner as he gave the door to his studio a push with his other hand to close it. A moment later, there was a soft click of the latch catching just as Dray extricated himself from Ox’s embrace.

“Now, I say! Er, happy to see you and all that, but…” Dray protested. He went back to pouring himself a drink.

“Sorry. It’s just been so long,” Ox said, trying to think quickly.

The other man looked at him sideways as he started to pour another glass for Ox. “We saw each other at Parliament last week.

“Was it really only a week ago? It somehow feels like a great deal longer.” Ox accepted the glass and then gestured for Dray to take a seat in front of the fire. It might have been mid-April, but there was still a chill to the air.

“What have you been up to? You’re covered in… what is that, cobwebs?” Dray, always fastidiously dressed, peered at Ox’s sleeve.

He quickly brushed it off. “My mother asked me to bring a chest down from the attic for her.”

“Ah. Does that also explain the odd smell?” Dray lifted his nose into the air and gave a sniff. “It seems to be gone now, but it smelled like turpentine.”

“It must be,” Ox lied. Surreptitiously, he glanced over at the door to his studio to ensure that it was, in fact, closed. The small room with a large window facing the garden had probably been intended to be an office for a secretary, but he had no need of one, and he loved the light that streamed in all morning long. “Well, my friend, tell me what has been happening with you,” Ox said as he sat in the chair opposite the one Dray had taken.

“Ah! Exciting news. That’s what I came to tell you.” Dray sat forward in his chair and lifted his glass. “A toast, if you please.”

Ox dutifully lifted his glass. “To?”

“Me! I am getting married!” Dray took a sip of the brandy in his glass, but Ox just lowered his.

“Married? To whom? When?”

“Oh, I don’t know the particulars yet. Have to find the girl who will have me first, you know.” Dray chuckled and sat back.

“Ah.” Ox breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you are going to look for a wife this Season.”

“Yes, that’s it. Precisely.”

“Your sister finally twisted your arm hard enough?” Ox asked with a little laugh.

Dray nodded. “Pointed out that as it now stands, Cousin Alfred is my heir.” He looked up from his drink and added, “No one likes Cousin Alfred.”

Ox nodded, still chuckling as he took a sip of his own drink. “I see.”

“So, will you help me?”

Ox’s gaze snapped to Dray. “Help you?”

“Yes. Help me find a wife,” Dray clarified.

“You cannot possibly think I know the first thing about such business, my boy,” Ox protested.

“Well, damned if <I>I</I> do!”

Ox sighed. “What sort of girl do you like?”

“Er, the female kind?” Dray tried.

Ox said nothing.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Dray said quickly. “But that’s the thing. I don’t know.”

Ox thought for a moment. “Well then, I suppose you’ll just have to meet as many as you can to figure that out,” he finally said with a shrug. “And I assure you, once word gets out that the Duke of Drayton is looking for a wife, you will have no issue in meeting quite a few.”

Dray ran a hand through his dark-brown hair, ruffling the straight locks so they stood at odd angles. If he only knew what he’d done, he’d be horrified. “I’m going to be swarmed, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes!” Ox chuckled. “Better you than me.”

Rebecca looked across the table at Lady Malton. “Would you care for another scone?” she asked politely.

“Thank you, no. They are quite delicious, though. You must have an excellent cook.”

The lady was the wife of one of the twenty-eight Irish representatives to the British Parliament. Rebecca knew well what that was like. Her own husband had been one of the first elected. He’d been so proud to represent his homeland, and Rebecca had been thrilled at the prospect of living in London. Dublin was a fine place to live, but nothing could compare with the excitement of London and English society.

“I have been most fortunate,” Rebecca agreed. “More tea?” she offered, lifting the teapot.

“Yes, thank you.” Lady Malton handed over her teacup. “I am so pleased to hear that you are enjoying yourself here in London, but honestly, I can’t imagine how you can suffer through the parties of the ton. They are always such crowded affairs.”

Rebecca gave a little shrug. “I enjoy meeting people. And yes, they are crowded, but I don’t mind. Are you not missing society?”

“No. Even in Dublin, we lived a quiet life,” the lady admitted. “Are you still in touch with anyone there?”

“Only my family,” Rebecca admitted. She’d never quite fit in with society in Dublin. She didn’t know why that was.

Lady Malton nodded. “It’s good to maintain family ties, even from a distance. They aren’t encouraging you to remarry, now, are they?”

“No, not at all. They know that I’m very happy living as I am.”

“So, you have no intention of remarrying?” the woman asked curiously.

“My husband’s only been gone for two years, and still I miss him every day,” Rebecca told her.

“I’m sure, but you don’t feel the need?”

“For a husband? No, not at all.”

“But then, what do you do with your time, aside from going to these parties?” the woman asked. “You have no children, and such a small household can’t take much to keep it running smoothly.”

Rebecca gave a little laugh, but she had the suspicion that her brother-in-law, Eoin, had put Lady Malton up to this. He’d probably written to Lord Malton to find out what Rebecca was doing and, more importantly, when she was going to remarry. It wasn’t that she was too much of a responsibility for her brother-in-law. He gave her only a very small quarterly allowance, but still, she was here and continued to carry the title. Eoin was now the Earl of Preston, but perhaps he was thinking of marriage himself. She imagined he believed it would be easier for him to find a wife if Rebecca were remarried.

“I have my studies and my hobbies.” Rebecca found that she’d crumbled her own scone into little bits on her plate. She wiped the crumbs off her fingers with her handkerchief.

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard you dabble in… what is it? Not witchcraft, but something like it.”

Rebecca bristled. “Astrology has nothing at all to do with witchcraft,” she stated with a little more force than she probably should have. She refolded the handkerchief into a tiny square.

“Astrology, right, that was it.”

“Yes. It is a noble science, and one that has been studied by the ancient Greeks and even as far back as the ancient Israelites.”

The woman reared back as if Rebecca had hit her. “You… you…”

“I read Greek, Hebrew, and a bit of Aramaic. There have been a good number of writings that come from India, but I’m afraid those languages are simply beyond me. It would take a great deal of study to be able to read and understand them.” Rebecca went on, knowing full well that the more she spoke of her studies, the more repulsed Lady Malton became. It tickled her to see this, but she reprimanded herself; she really shouldn’t tease the woman so—not that anything she’d said wasn’t true, but still.

“I… I see,” Lady Malton said. “So, you’ve not found a gentleman who shares this… this uncommon interest with you? I must admit that I’m not surprised.”

“It is an unusual hobby,” Rebecca admitted. “My dearest Preston enjoyed it as well. But then, anything with an intellectual bent fascinated him. Anything that involved learning a new language or something of the sort.”

“Yes, I remember. He was an odd one, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t believe I’d call him odd,” Rebecca protested.

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean… I would never speak ill of the dead,” Lady Malton said quickly. “Er, oh, look at the time.” She stood. “Thank you ever so much for tea, Lady Preston.”

Rebecca led the way to the door. “Of course, it was my pleasure.” She opened it to allow Lady Malton to leave, but as the woman passed her, she couldn’t help herself. “Do give my regards to my brother-in-law when you write to him.” The woman looked back with such a startled, guilty expression that Rebecca didn’t hold back but allowed herself to burst out laughing. She was still giggling when she closed the door and started toward her study.

Uncle Lawrence strolled into the drawing room the following day, where Aunt Lily was writing a letter and Clarissa was working on her embroidery.

“I’m off to my club, my dear,” he said.

“Ah, I shall be leaving very soon myself,” Aunt Lily replied.

“Excellent. Going to introduce Clarissa about? So glad to hear it,” he replied with an approving smile.

Aunt Lily’s eyes snapped to Clarissa, but the frown on her face told her that she hadn’t been thinking of doing that at all. “Well, I…” Aunt Lily hedged.

“It’s so wonderful of you to see to the girl. And you know, the sooner she meets more people, the more likely it is she’ll find just the right gentleman to marry,” Uncle Lawrence added. Was that a calculating look in his eye? Clarissa wondered.

“Of course, my lord. You are absolutely correct.” Aunt Lily turned toward Clarissa. “Go and change into a more suitable gown for visiting, Clarissa—one of the new ones we received from the modiste yesterday.”

Clarissa immediately set aside her sewing and went to do so. As she passed her uncle on her way out the door, he gave her a little wink. She was hard-pressed not to giggle. He knew exactly how to get Aunt Lily to do what he wanted.

Forty-five minutes later, they were shown into Viscountess Pemberton’s drawing room.

“Ah, Lady Morley, how lovely to see you this afternoon,” the lady said, greeting them.

“And you, my lady,” Aunt Lily said with a little curtsy. “And may I present my niece, Miss Clarissa Ellison?”

“Of course. It is delightful to make your acquaintance. Are you making your debut this Season, Miss Ellison?” Lady Pemberton asked.

“I am, my lady,” Clarissa answered after curtsying to the lady.

“Well, in that case, you will certainly want to speak with my daughter Eloisa. She is just there speaking with Miss Ricketts.” The lady pointed to two girls, one with dark blonde hair, one whose hair looked like spun gold. “Come, I will introduce you.”

“You are very kind, my lady,” Clarissa murmured as she followed the lady to the girls.

“Eloisa, Miss Ricketts, may I present Clarissa Ellison? She will be making her debut this year. I’m certain you’ll make her feel welcome.” The lady gave both girls a commanding smile.

“Of course, Mother,” the girl with the darker hair said. She then motioned for Clarissa to sit next to her on the sofa.

“Thank you. It is very kind of you,” Clarissa said as she took a seat. “Are you also making your debuts?” she asked the two girls.

They looked at each other, as if they found her question amusing.

“No, Miss Ellison, we were both introduced to society last year,” Miss Ricketts told her.

“Oh, well, that is fortunate for me, I suppose. Perhaps you can give me some advice on how to proceed. I am new to London, you see, and am not quite sure how to go on.”

“Of course! We would be more than happy to do so,” Miss Pemberton replied. “Have you been to any parties yet?”

“No, I’ve only been in Town a little over a week, and we’re still waiting for most of my gowns to be delivered by the modiste. I believe I will be receiving one of the ball gowns either today or tomorrow. My aunt insisted on one being made as quickly as possible.”

“Is your modiste not to call upon you to for the final fitting?” Miss Ricketts asked with a slight frown.

“Er, no. We went to her. She has a shop on Bond Street,” Clarissa answered. She’d never thought that a modiste would come to her.

“Oh,” Miss Ricketts replied, as if she found the concept alien to her.

Chapter Three

“Well, in any case,” Miss Pemberton continued, “I do hope you will be attending Lady Midton’s ball. It will be the first of the Season, and positively everyone will be there.

“I do believe we have received an invitation and are planning on going,” Clarissa replied, trying to remember the list of parties her aunt had informed her they’d be attending.

“Yes, Lady Midton is very generous and extends invitations to just about everybody,” Miss Ricketts replied.

Clarissa wondered if that was meant to be an insult, but since she didn’t even know who Clarissa was or who she was connected to, why would she deliberately be mean? No, Miss Ricketts must have meant it innocently.

“I am looking forward to seeing who among the gentlemen will be looking out for a wife this year,” Miss Pemberton commented.

Miss Ricketts leaned forward and said quietly, “I hear the Duke of Drayton will be looking for a wife.”

“No! Wherever did you hear that?” Miss Pemberton answered, as if this was the most exciting news she’d ever heard.

“My maid heard it from her cousin whose good friend works for him.”

“My goodness,” Clarissa said, nearly laughing. She held it back only because the girl seemed so very serious, and even a little smug at having obtained her information in this way.

“You will soon learn, Miss Ellison, that the servants have all the best gossip,” Miss Pemberton informed Clarissa.

“If you don’t hear it from Lady Findlater or Lady Wrexley,” Miss Ricketts agreed.

“Yes, of course,” Miss Pemberton said.

“I have yet to meet these ladies,” Clarissa commented. “But it sounds as if I should be careful what I say around them. Are they terrible gossips?”

“Oh, ye—” Miss Pemberton started, but Miss Ricketts cut her off.

“No, not at all! They are simply very well-known by absolutely everyone in society. They are, indeed, probably the most trusted ladies.”

Miss Pemberton frowned at her friend, and Clarissa had the feeling she was being teased.

She glanced away to hide her expression of annoyance and happened to notice a girl standing off near the wall all by herself. She was tall, like Clarissa, but plump where Clarissa was slender and much more shapely. Clarissa looked back to Miss Pemberton. “Who is that?” she asked, nodding toward the girl.

“That is nobody,” Miss Ricketts answered immediately.

“It’s Miss Buttery-Clements,” Miss Pemberton said at the same time.

“Why is she there—” Clarissa started.

“We do not speak with her,” Miss Ricketts informed Clarissa.

“We do not?” she asked, looking at Miss Pemberton for confirmation.

The girl just kept her eyes lowered.

“Well, if you do not, I shall,” Clarissa said, standing.