“But I am no longer a young miss . . .”
“No, but you are a maid. And virginal white is just the thing for your engagement announcement. We shall make a statement with this dress.”
Tears pricked once again. To be believed! And by the Marchioness of Kentworth, whom Eliza had always admired for her kindness and grace. Eliza could scarcely believe how generous they were being to her when all others of her class despised and rejected her.
Florentia and the maid helped Eliza into the too-large gown.
“The bodice and sleeves will do, with alteration, but three flounces are really too much, I think. We must replace the skirt completely. We have more of this fabric, and my maid is quick with a needle. It can be done.”
Eliza sniffed and wished for a handkerchief. “It is true that I am not very partial to flounces.” To her humiliation, her voice cracked with emotion.
The marchioness gave her a gentle smile and the maid bustled around Eliza, pinning and tucking, adjusting the fit at her back, and over her bosom.
“But it needs something.” The marchioness looked Eliza over with a considering expression.
“Yes,” Florentia agreed. “What about that silver netting, Mama? I know you were saving it, but . . .”
“I was, but you’re right. The silver netting would be just the thing to make it your own.”
The silver netting was soon brought, and their lady’s maid and a recruited chamber maid worked, draped, and pinned her till they were satisfied.
“I’ll get it done, miss.” The lady’s maid nodded.
“Thank you. It is already looking lovely.”
If finished on time, she need not be ashamed of her appearance at the ball tomorrow.
* * *
Daniel and Thomas left the archbishop’s offices several hours later, a special license burning in Daniel’s pocket.
“Now, the next order of business—”
“The next order of business,” Thomas interrupted, “is sustenance. I’m starving.”
“Very well. But after that . . .” Daniel paused in his forward momentum, and faced his friend. “Are you willing to act as my second?”
Thomas gave him a sharp look. Daniel knew his own face was serious.
“If that is how the wind is blowing, then yes, you know I stand ready and able.” Thomas nodded curtly.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Thomas started walking again. “But if you’re to fight a duel of honor, we must practice marksmanship at Manton’s Shooting Gallery.” Thomas gave him a sly grin. “Every day.”
Daniel almost groaned. He knew he was a fair shot, but Thomas was a sharpshooting prodigy, a talented marksman with the superior officer rank and betting book wins to prove it.
Daniel would rather go to Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon than practice interminable hours shooting wafers at Manton’s, constantly being outshot by his friend.
Daniel preferred to fight with his fists—his large body was made for brawling—but gentlemen did not fight duels of honor by pugilism.
It was unlikely the challenged earl would call for swords, which Daniel was also capable of handling with brute strength. No, it would be pistols, and daily practice would do him good, help steady his nerves for the day he faced Crewkerne on the field of honor.
Chapter 16
It was surreal to be back in the polite world with a maid helping her dress for dinner. What would Eliza do with herself? With her time?
Though she had only been a month at the Magdalen House, she felt changed, fundamentally different. And off-kilter and cast adrift.
She felt distant from herself and her surroundings as she donned her former clothing and rejoined routines similar to the ones she’d had in her former life.
She waited in the drawing room for dinner to be announced, feeling dowdy and wan in a grey dress of taffeta silk. She knew she appeared to greater advantage in solid black, but that dark color seemed inappropriate for her first evening as an affianced bride.
Lord Daniel entered the room, and inexplicable relief filled her. As he approached, her nerves settled, as if he was an anchor in the restless sea of her life.
His face lit with joy when their gazes met. He looked at her like he thought she was beautiful. Her cheeks flushed with unexpected pleasure.
He arrived just in time to offer his arm to escort her into the dining room.
The marchioness sat at the hostess’s head, Daniel at her right, Florentia across, and Eliza next to Daniel.
The Marquess of Kentworth was out that evening. Eliza was relieved to not have to face Daniel’s formidable older brother, despite Daniel’s baffling declarations that the marquess supported their union.
Dinner began with awkward quietness, the dynamic of a family meal disrupted by Eliza’s strained presence. Eliza hedged her every move and word to ensure each action was well-bred, and her manners exact, but conversation was beyond her.
“It has been a long time since Miss Moore has visited Kentworth Manor, has it not?” the marchioness said, a good hostess obviously trying to put the company at ease. “Daniel was the most recent of us to be home. Why don’t you update Miss Moore on the happenings of those still in the country?”
Lord Daniel smiled and turned to Eliza. “You know my elder sister Cassandra?”
Eliza nodded. Lady Cassandra was several years older than she, but had often been at the same balls and suppers when Eliza was living at Lyon Manor.
“Cassandra has taken charge of the Kentworth stables and is breeding horses.”
“Gracious, Daniel, she is not breeding the horses!” the marchioness exclaimed.
“It quite scandalizes my dear stepmama, but Cassandra is choosing the breeding stock, and is heavily involved. She’s even taking a hand in their training. I’m impressed with what she’s been doing. I was barely able to pull myself away from the stables to come to London for Florrie’s Season.” He smiled.
Eliza nodded. Daniel was a horseman. It fit with him being a cavalry officer. She was not a horse enthusiast. It was years since she’d ridden, and she hoped he wouldn’t insist she start again.
“And your younger siblings?” the marchioness prompted.
“Matthew’s sixteen, and he’s at Eton. My youngest sister Mariah loves horses and books and is quite snooty for a twelve-year old.”
Eliza had been vaguely aware of the younger Ashton siblings, the current marchioness’s children.
“And Frederick’s daughter Caroline, she’s six.”
The marquess had a daughter. Eliza had almost forgotten that the current marchioness was technically a dowager. But as the 2nd Marquess of Kentworth’s marriage had been short-lived and fraught with scandal, most avoided the topic of his deceased wife. The woman had left behind her husband and infant daughter to run off with a Prussian princeling and had later died. The scandal had overshadowed the family for years.
And now Eliza had come to heap another scandal on top. Shame burned low in her gut and turned her food into ash.
“She and Mariah love to evade their governess and go spend time with Cassandra in the stables,” Daniel continued, unaffected by Eliza’s unease. “The young ladies both begged to come with me to London, but I assured them that London is a dead bore compared to the horses breeding, and soon, all the new foals.”
“Daniel! My daughter and your niece are absolutely not involving themselves with the breeding. Good heavens, you say such things.” The marchioness shuddered and took a sip from her wine glass.
Daniel sent a teasing smile to Eliza, like he was including her in a joke.
“No matter what your elder sister does herself,” the marchioness continued, “I know she knows better than to expose the children to it. They can play with the foals after they are born. So much time in the stables is not proper.”
“Are you claiming Lady Cassandra is improper, dear Stepmama?” Daniel gave a half-smile.
She sent him a narrowed-eyed stare. “Yes. Most improper. Not th
at she listens to me. And your brother refuses to curb her.”
“She is happy in her impropriety.” He turned back to Eliza. “Cassie wore Frederick down until he agreed to grant her her dowry portion and let her invest it on updating the stables and purchasing new breeding stock. She’s doggedly persistent, our Cassandra.”
From what Eliza knew of her, she wasn’t surprised Lady Cassandra would want to do such a thing. But it was a testament to Cassandra’s force of personality and relentlessness that the stiff and upright marquess had consented to her doing something so eccentric.
“And don’t worry, ma’am.” Lord Daniel turned back to his stepmother. “I think Frederick and Cassandra have both trained the grooms to speak respectfully around the girls. They are well watched over in the stables. Both Mariah and Caroline are growing into fine horsewomen.”
“Caroline is but a young child!” the marchioness protested.
“And has an excellent seat on her pony. I spent two happy weeks assisting Cassandra with her horses and riding with the young ladies. I had a hard time leaving, but I promised to attend you during your first Season, Florentia, so I did. It is a proof of my love for you that I dragged myself away.” He lifted his glass to his younger sister.
“I’m so glad you did, Daniel!” Florentia beamed from across the table.
“And I hope when I return to Kentworth in the summer, I will not discover the girls have grown into absolute hoydens.” The marchioness shook her head.
“They’ll be happy hoydens.” Daniel grinned.
The marchioness pinched her lips at that, but there was affection still in her eyes.
The conversation turned to Florentia’s ball on the morrow, and to Eliza’s relief, Daniel stopped working so hard to include her in every conversational volley.
* * *
Daniel could not keep his eyes away from the pale face of the woman who sat beside him. She had been the intense calf-love of his youth, his untouchable paragon. She was more beautiful now than she had been as a girl.
He studied the lines and planes of her face, the exquisite delicacy of her profile, and the expressions of her countenance, so much more vital and alive in person than he had ever been able to capture, and wished for his sketchbook.
He’d sketched her when they were young, and continued to draw her from memory after he left to be a soldier. His drawings were never able to do her justice, though he often tried to recreate her image.
Every tense hour of waiting he’d endured in the army, he had drawn and redrawn her likeness. In battle, he had focused on her face. She had been the image of home that motivated him to fight; her welfare was what he’d been striving to preserve—a nation of peace where she could thrive and be happy.
Discovering upon his arrival in London that she wasn’t safe in this peaceful land, that despite war being over she was in danger, had ripped up his peace and his hopes.
She was safe now and under his care. That brought him a calm sense of joy. But she was not at ease. Tension showed in the lines of her neck, the set of her jaw, the pinched, haunted look in her eyes. She moved with stiff precision and spoke little.
He must do all in his power to ease her emotions, and bring her back to that temper of assured serenity that was her customary and rightful state.
But how to accomplish that, he had little idea. He felt like a bumbling oaf beside her.
“And the waltz! We must have several waltzes on the set list.” Florentia’s excited voice broke through his reverie on Eliza’s profile.
“Waltzing? At your come-out ball?” Daniel exclaimed. “I thought it was expressly forbidden, Florrie.” He gave her a wicked smile, delighting in being able to rib his sister.
“It is.” His stepmother frowned. “The patronesses of Almack’s have refrained from giving their permission for Florentia to waltz, and until they do, she must not. There will be no waltzing at your ball tomorrow, Florentia.”
Florentia’s face went red with frustration. “But, but Stepmama! They are most unjust in barring me from the waltz! Why must they be so horrid?”
“I believe they find you excessively young, my dear, and feel that the dance would not be appropriate for you as of yet.”
“But Lady Jane is only sixteen, and she has their permission!”
Daniel watched his sister’s outraged face with amusement. “How does Lady Jane comport herself, Florrie? Have you noticed a difference?”
She sent him a scowl.
Daniel grinned, and turned to Eliza, wanting to have a moment of shared amusement at his sister’s discomfiture. But Eliza’s eyes were on her plate, cutting her meat with precise movements into tiny, even rectangles. Her expression was blank, only a hint of tension in the set of her jaw, the set of her shoulders. With smoothness, she pressed a small portion to her fork and brought it to her mouth. She chewed slowly.
Perfect manners. The picture of defensive self-control and total discomfort.
His heart ached. How could he bring her out of this, and to a place of ease? He felt helpless.
“What if the entire Season passes before the patronesses give their permission?” Florentia’s whiny voice cut into his musings.
“Then you will seek it again next Season,” Stepmother answered.
Florentia gave a suppressed, outraged squeal.
“Young lady, that is not how you behave at the dinner table.” The marchioness gave her a stern look.
“Don’t prove the patroness’s point for them.” Daniel pushed aside his concern over Eliza to tease his sister.
Florentia’s eyes widened in outrage at him, but she shut her mouth and focused down on her plate with a mulish pout.
They ate in silence for a few seconds until Florentia looked up with a contrite, hopeful expression. “Just because I may not waltz, we should not keep others who may from the enjoyment of it. I do wish for it to be danced at my ball.”
“If it was danced, you’d find yourself unexpectedly on the dance floor, wouldn’t you?” Daniel lifted a brow.
She gave him a quelling look.
“It would not be the thing at all to have a dance performed the lady of honor could not join.” He gave her a conciliatory smile.
The marchioness, obviously tired of the subject, said, “I am afraid, my darling, that your brother the marquess has forbidden it. And that is the end of that.”
Florentia turned with an edge of desperation to Eliza.
“How about you, Eliza? Were you able to dance the waltz at your come-out?”
Daniel watched with hope. Perhaps his sister could pull Eliza out of her shell?
Eliza blinked at Florentia, and seemed to consider before she said, “I’m afraid the waltz was nothing but a scandalous whisper at my come-out.”
“Oh.” Florentia looked crestfallen.
Hoping to encourage Eliza to stay involved, Daniel said, “It has been all the rage on the Continent. I admit to liking the dance excessively. Do you enjoy the waltz, Eliza?”
He caught her eye, but she quickly looked away from him. “I’m afraid I have had little opportunity to dance at all as of late, let alone to waltz. I have no opinion on the dance.”
“Oh, but do you know how to?” Florentia asked, her eyes wide.
“I have had sufficient instruction that should the opportunity arise, I will be able to comport myself creditably enough, I imagine.”
She said little more through the rest of the meal.
* * *
Eliza had long been wishing for escape when the marchioness stood to withdraw. As the ladies rose, Daniel did as well, and offered Eliza his arm. She blinked at him.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
She took his arm with a bare shake of her head and a light hand, and allowed herself to be led behind the other two ladies.
After they entered the drawing room, he put his hand to her back as he spoke to his mother.
He kept touching her.
With the broad bulk of him standing close, warm and la
rge beside her, so distracting, she felt on edge. Jumpy. But oddly comforted. Her emotions were a tangle, and she pushed them down, trying to keep her rational mind in control of her reactions. But energy raced up her back at the warmth of his hand, and the small hairs on her neck rose.
She spotted the pianoforte across the room, and escaped his hand and his presence to sit at it. She opened the lid, and placed her hands at the keys, ordering her heart to slow and her mind to settle.
“May I turn pages for you?” His voice came from behind her. Her upper back tensed.
“No need, I thank you.”
She began a fast, light-hearted piece that she had long memorized, Number 21 from Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier Book I, Prelude and Fugue in B♭major.
She hoped to lose herself in the music, but he moved to stand beside her, his presence distracting.
She finished the number and looked up to applause.
“Oh, how lovely!” Florentia called, clapping with enthusiasm, sitting forward in her seat.
“That was excellent, my dear,” the marchioness said. “Thank you for gracing us with such delightful playing.”
“Indeed.” Daniel smiled down at her with gentle admiration in his eyes.
Eliza nodded her head in acknowledgement.
Daniel moved closer to her side, bent, spoke with a low voice. “It would be good if we could have a conversation. Would you join me?”
She didn’t look at him, couldn’t answer. She turned toward his sister and said, “Lady Florentia? Do you sing? I could accompany you.”
“That would be delightful!” Florentia jumped up.
Daniel gave her a sad, twisted smile, acknowledging her avoidance. A pang of guilt hit her. He retreated as Lady Florentia began rifling through a stack of sheet music. Daniel moved across the room and sat on a chair out of the line of sight of his stepmother, but in Eliza’s.
She kept her eyes on her hands resting on the keys until Florentia placed a piece of music before her.
“Here, this one. I hope it is not too difficult?”
Eliza reviewed it. “No, I have played it before.”
“Wonderful.”
Florentia sang to Eliza’s accompaniment in a sweet, competent soprano. Her high notes were thin, but her lower range surprisingly rich.
Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1) Page 9