“Do not fear, Mother.” He set a hand on her arm and smiled. “If I find her in want of a partner, I will make certain to find one for her. Her family are our neighbors after all.”
The usual frustrated sigh emerged. “You have only a handful of weeks left in the Season.”
Thank heavens. “Perhaps when we return home after the Season ends, we might invite the neighborhood for a dinner. The Bartletts, Lord Barrington’s family, the Summerfields.”
Lumping his parents’ choice of daughter-in-law in with other families who lived near them would subtly reinforce his lack of true interest. Eventually his parents would realize, though they hadn’t in all the time they’d been pursuing the match on his behalf.
“We should at the very least go offer the Summerfields a good evening,” Mother said.
He nodded. “Certainly.” Jack turned to his friends. “I’m off to do the pretty with a neighbor family. Don’t grow too lively while I’m gone.”
“Yes, Mum,” Terrance said.
Of all Jack’s friends, Terrance could be counted on for a laugh. That’d been the way of things since Cambridge.
Lady Barrington, her daughter Odette, and a lady whom Jack had not seen before entered the ballroom in that very moment. All Jack’s friends took note.
“I’ll just beg a dance with Princess Pompous while you’re away,” Terrance said. “That should add a much-needed bit of dramatic tension to the evening.”
“Dramatic tension?” Jack shook his head at the absurdity of that.
Terrance nodded. “There will be no predicting whether or not I will survive.”
“She is known as ‘Princess Pompous,’ not ‘the Marchioness of Murder.’”
Mother, apparently, had run out of patience. She tugged at his arm. “The Summerfields are waiting.”
“Waiting? Do they know we mean to offer a neighborly greeting?”
She lowered her voice as they wove through the guests. “You are well aware that our connection to the Summerfields goes beyond mere neighborliness.”
“Yes, you and Mrs. Summerfield have always been good friends.”
“Jack.” She spoke his name through her teeth.
Though it frustrated his parents, utterly refusing to play along with their machinations had proven his only option. They focused so much of their attention on trying to force him to simply acknowledge their efforts that they’d not yet moved on to attempting to convince him to agree with their choice.
“I wonder if Terrance will be granted a set with Odette.” He glanced back.
“If he is fortunate, he will not,” Mother said.
Jack met her eye once more. “She is also one of our neighbors. Have you chosen to dislike her?”
“There is something different in it since she arrived in London.” Mother shook her head. “Lord and Lady Barrington are beside themselves. She will quickly ruin all her chances of making a match. The situation is so dire they have needed to employ the services of Mrs. Northrop.”
The lady currently standing with Lady Barrington and her daughter, no doubt. “Is she a lady’s companion?”
“Mrs. Northrop is a matchmaker.”
That declaration stopped Jack in his tracks. “A matchmaker? By design, not as a casual pursuit?”
Mother nodded. “She has made matches for even the most difficult sons and daughters of the ton. With a good match and a bit of time, Odette may yet manage to shed the horrid moniker Society has fashioned for her. Though, to be perfectly honest, she has done more than enough to earn the name.”
“Perhaps she is the one we ought to be offering a neighborly ‘good evening.’ I imagine she could use the show of affection and approval.”
Mother pulled him along once more. “Having known her since she was a girl, I have full affection for her, but I cannot approve of her behavior this Season.”
“I imagine she has her reasons,” Jack said. “Odette has never been impulsive.”
“Though you have known her all your life, it is not appropriate for you to use her Christian name, at least not in public.”
He offered a reassuring smile. “I call her that only when speaking with you or Father. My friends likely think I don’t even know her Christian name, despite having grown up in the same neighborhood.”
“After the disastrous Season she has had, they likely think you are choosing to forget her name, her friendship, her connection to us.”
“I hope they know I am not so shallow as that.”
Mother pulled him around a gathering of matrons. “Mrs. Northrop will correct her path, I’ve no doubt,” Mother said. “An announcement will appear in the Times before the Season is out, mark my words.”
“That does not sound like a happy outcome for Od—Miss Armistead, being pushed into a match.” He did not like the idea at all.
“Mrs. Northrop has never failed to make a match for anyone she has been assigned. She is the one who brought about the marriage between Miss Pattington and Lord Beaumont’s middle son.”
A happy match by all accounts. Jack’s mind was still not set at ease.
They had, however, arrived directly beside the Summerfields, and he was afforded no opportunity for pondering the potential for Mrs. Northrop to inflict misery.
Mother and Mrs. Summerfield exchanged their usual greetings, each equally eager for the other’s company. Miss Summerfield offered a quiet smile in Jack’s general direction, though she did not speak. That was common for her, at least from what he had learned in the year since her family had come to live near theirs. She was almost always silent, though not out of arrogance nor dismissiveness. She was simply not of a talkative disposition. He hadn’t the first idea whether she was different when at home or among her closest associates.
“The evening promises to be quite a crush,” Jack said.
Miss Summerfield nodded. Her mother prodded her with an elbow. “Yes, it does,” she added, her voice hardly rising above the volume of a breeze.
Mother nudged Jack, motioning with her head in Miss Summerfield’s direction. He did not need the message translated. To Miss Summerfield, he said, “I am engaged for the next few sets, but if your quadrille remains unclaimed, I would be honored if you would grant me that privilege.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He offered a bow. She a brief curtsy.
“Now, if you will excuse me,” he said to all three ladies, “I am engaged for the next set.”
“It will not begin for a few minutes yet,” Mother said, an edge to her voice that spoke of both frustration and the blossoming of panic. He was, after all, quitting the field quite prematurely.
“I am not entirely certain where my partner is,” he explained. “I would not wish to arrive late to do my duty.”
He beat a hasty retreat, though careful to appear casual. Miss Summerfield was a fine young lady, but they were not at all well suited. Even if they were, no gentleman of sense or decency would marry when his heart belonged to another.
Jack located his next partner, escorting her to join the other couples in the open area of the ballroom. Terrance had secured a partner as well, the very partner he had declared he would dance with. His grin spoke of amusement and triumph. Odette appeared far less pleased.
The movements of the dance progressed. Jack’s partner possessed a fluid grace. She also possessed an incredibly high opinion of herself, as evidenced by the remarks she managed to slip in anytime they were brought near enough each other. The title of “Princess Pompous” had clearly been wrongly assigned. Miss Garrett was far more deserving of it.
He moved past Odette.
“Your friend is being ridiculous,” she said quickly.
“That is the only way we are able to recognize him.”
The tiniest, briefest of smiles flashed across her face before being tucked firmly away. He managed to keep his own under control.
The steps brought him past Terrance next. “You are not making a good impression, my friend.”
Terrance only
laughed. He really was a good sort of fellow, simply too inclined for a lark when sobriety was called for.
On and on the dance went. His partner continued listing her own fine qualities, though she wrapped up the boasts in a flag of false humility. Terrance grinned a great deal. Odette kept to the polite neutrality Society preferred. And Jack wished for nothing more than to escape it all.
Fate proved kind. The partner to whom he had promised the next set extended her apologies, as she was obliged to return home early. Jack stepped out onto the back terrace and down into the gardens. A bit of weaving brought him to a quiet corner, surrounded on three and a half sides by tall hedges and boasting a single empty stone bench.
He sat and breathed. Six weeks remained of this torture he could not escape. Six weeks that would no doubt feel like six months. Could he endure that much more? Could she?
Long minutes passed. He was not engaged for another dance before the quadrille, and it would not come for some time. He let himself relax and imagine himself home again, back in the neighborhood, where he was happiest. How easily he could picture her there.
Small, quick footsteps sounded from the other side of the hedge. He watched the entrance to his little shrubberied alcove, curious.
Odette appeared.
He jumped to his feet as she slipped inside. “What are you doing here?” He glanced at the path leading to the private corner.
The night was too dim for her face to be at all discernible. There was no mistaking her worried tone. “My parents have engaged the services of a matchmaker.”
“I know,” he said. “My mother told me.”
“Mrs. Northrop is determined. I do not know how long I can keep her at bay.”
“We will think of something, my dear.”
She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest. “What if we can’t?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “This was risky, Odette. We cannot take such chances with so much time yet remaining before we can return home.”
“Or with Mrs. Northrop ready to convince my parents to marry me off to the first person she can get to agree.”
He lightly kissed the top of her head. “I would be the first person to agree, if anyone even cared to ask.”
“So long as your parents have their hearts set on Miss Summerfield, mine will never even consider a match between us. They don’t dare risk overstepping themselves where your parents are concerned.”
“We will find a way, my love. I know we will.” How often they had told themselves that, yet they were barely clinging to hope.
She stepped back enough for the tiniest bit of moonlight to dimly illuminate her face. “You continue resisting your parents’ efforts. I will do all I can to undermine Mrs. Northrop. If we can manage that, it will all be worth it in the end.”
“It will be more than worth it.” He took her hands in his and kissed them one at a time. “Now, you had best slip back into that ball—alone—and make the best of things.”
She nodded. “Until we are able to see each other again.”
He tried to sound reassuring, “Soon, my dearest. Soon.”
She slipped away. He remained behind, sitting on the bench and thinking furiously. The chances of their plan proving successful had always been slim. Even if he managed to keep his parents off the scent for a Season while simultaneously avoiding their efforts to match him with Miss Summerfield, preventing Lord and Lady Barrington from strong-arming Odette into a match was tricky.
Her older sister had been coerced into a match not of her choosing. The oldest sister had expressed her love for a gentleman whose family her parents felt would disapprove of the match. The star-crossed couple had been kept apart from that moment on; her sister had married someone else. While neither sister was utterly unhappy, their experiences boded ill for his and Odette’s future.
Odette was not weak-willed by any means, but fate was not kind to young ladies. They were often pushed into unwanted matches and untenable situations simply for want of a choice.
Despite Odette’s family being titled, his family was the dominant one in the neighborhood, having money and standing that far surpassed anyone else nearby. No one naysaid his parents. Not even their son. At least not directly. Certainly not any of the other local families.
Odette could not marry without her father’s approval. Her father would never give it if Jack’s parents did not bestow theirs. Jack feared his parents would never approve of anyone but Miss Summerfield and the possibility of bringing into the vast Hewitt family holdings a very profitable estate in the north that was included in Miss Summerfield’s dowry.
Marrying for love might have been a new and emerging preference, but at times it felt utterly impossible.
* * *
From her position not far from the terrace doors, Adelaide watched her latest charge slip inside the ballroom once more. She had noticed Odette expertly maneuver her way behind a group of gossipy ball goers and away from her mother’s watchful eye without drawing anyone’s attention—except Adelaide’s, she having kept careful track of a long list of young ladies over the years.
Odette’s movements as she’d left and now as she returned were just furtive enough to speak of a desire to not be seen or noticed. Being alone on the terrace or in the garden beyond could bring about a few whispers, but considering the young lady was already referred to as “Princess Pompous” and had done absolutely everything imaginable during their short time at the ball thus far to make certain that name stuck, her concern over more relatively harmless whispers seemed very unlikely.
Something else lay behind this sneaking about and the worry so clear in Odette’s posture.
Adelaide had been in her line of work far too long to not immediately piece together the puzzle. Odette had not been alone.
Princess Pompous had a would-be prince.
A great many people wandered in and out, making identifying Odette’s assignation impossible. But Adelaide had not been felled by the impossible yet. She would solve this mystery, and she would enjoy it.
Chapter Three
Odette was not a naturally sour person. A Season of pretending to be so was beginning to take its toll. She disliked that people thought so poorly of her, though she was grateful for her success in convincing them. It was the only chance she and Jack had of a happy outcome. Yet, she was lonely. Being an object of fascinated disapproval was not at all the same as being a friend, a confidante, a companion.
They had debated Jack undertaking the same approach but had, in the end, reached the inarguable conclusion that doing so would not help. The Summerfields knew him too well already, having lived in the neighborhood for a year and having interacted with him at any number of assemblies and dinner parties. The ruse would be seen through easily and readily. It was also entirely possible they wouldn’t care. Such was the balance of things in Society that a gentleman’s disposition played far less of a role in determining the desirability of a match than a lady’s did.
Thus, Odette sat in Mrs. Hewitt’s drawing room the morning after the Farrs’ ball making at-home calls with her mother and Mrs. Northrop, with no one even the least eager to talk with her. Even Mrs. Hewitt, whom she’d known all her life, didn’t pay her much mind beyond the occasional curious glance. Odette had not been out before this Season, so she’d really known her neighbors only through the lens of childhood interactions. They believed so readily that she was the horror she pretended to be. Her own parents believed it. That was rather disheartening.
Still, if it meant living her life with the person she loved most, she could endure it.
“Why, Mrs. Summerfield. Miss Summerfield.” Mrs. Hewitt greeted the newest arrivals.
Odette maintained her impassive air even as pain seized her heart. Miss Summerfield received the warm welcome Odette never had. Even at home when they had crossed paths in the nearby town or after services on Sundays, Mrs. Hewitt had taken only cursory note of Odette, the kind of offhand acknowledgment adults often of
fered to children.
The enemy and her mother were offered places of honor directly beside their hostess. None of the other guests could possibly misinterpret the preference Mrs. Hewitt felt for these two. Thank the heavens Jack had gone to such lengths to make certain no one in Society who was paying the least attention would think he felt a similar inclination.
Six weeks. We need survive only another six weeks.
To the Summerfield ladies, Mrs. Hewitt said, “You, of course, remember Lady Barrington and Miss Armistead. They live in our neighborhood.”
The wording was not truly dismissive, but something in the way she referenced Odette and her mother and their role among the families in their corner of the kingdom felt the tiniest bit disparaging just the same.
Mother, as always, did not particularly notice. She watched with her usual air of eager hopefulness. Father was in possession of a title, a minor one when compared with the rest of the peerage, but a title just the same. The Hewitts were in possession of great wealth and vast swaths of land. Theirs was also a family of long-standing importance. Mother and Father had always viewed themselves as comparatively inferior; the Hewitts had always agreed.
“Of course we remember.” Mrs. Summerfield faced Mother and offered a polite dip of her head. “A very real pleasure to see you again. I am sorry we did not have the opportunity to speak at the ball last night. Was that not the greatest crush you’ve seen in some time?”
That, of course, set the conversation on the previous night’s gathering. Mother was far more comfortable with this topic than with the unspoken discussion of the neighborhood pecking order. She eagerly joined Mrs. Summerfield and Mrs. Hewitt in their delineation of every detail.
Being aloof and “above her company” was part of Odette’s disguise, so she kept her peace and focused, instead, on returning home, on meeting Jack on her walk back from town and having those precious moments with him. She thought of the joy it would be to spend the autumn and winter finally being herself again and working with Jack to convince his parents of the wisdom of a match between them.
“You danced with Mr. Lexington last night.” Miss Summerfield’s observation was so quiet Odette did not at first hear it. She certainly didn’t immediately realize the words were spoken to her.
A Night in Grosvenor Square Page 2