Rhoda glanced back and forth between her two friends. “I thought you said this was to be your final Season, Emily. Don’t you want to make the most of it? You danced with four gentlemen last night!”
Emily met Sophia’s eyes again and then bit her lip. “Ah, well, yes, yes, but I… um, I am so out of practice that I do believe I am in need of a refresher course. And Sophia has, er, said she could hire a dancing master for all of us to work on our dancing skills. Isn’t that right, Sophia?”
Sophia tilted her head questioningly and then her brows rose. “Oh, Oh, yes. Indeed. A dancing master. Yes, of course. You know, Rhoda, those two years sitting with the wallflowers eroded our skills something fierce.”
“But, Emily. You made a fine show of yourself last night. Aside from a few missteps with Lord Blakely, you were more graceful than ever!” Rhoda wondered what her two friends could possibly be thinking.
“Ah, well.” Emily pushed her spectacles higher upon the bridge of her nose. “You did not see yourself. You seemed about a half step off from all the other dancers. I’m surprised nobody said anything.”
“I was not! Was I? Surely, you cannot be right? I’ve always been comfortable dancing.” Doubt crept in. Her friends wouldn’t tell her this unless it were true, would they?
“Not to worry!” Sophia gave her a pinched smile. “As one of your dearest friends, I am more than happy to provide all of us with a dancing master at Eden’s Court next week.”
“Humph.” Rhoda was still not entirely convinced.
“It will be marvelous. To get away from London.” Emily tossed a few pieces of bread toward a cluster of curious brown ducks.
“Sophia.” The ducks could wait. “What will the dowager say about you hosting a house party while the household remains in mourning?” Harold’s demise had been in early August, and St. John, the duke, and the duke’s brother had died a few weeks later.
As it was only April, a full year had not yet passed since Sophia’s first husband’s death.
“She is not the dowager, technically. Since Dev inherited, and not one of her sons, she is still the duchess. We are both referred to by the title. Confusing at times, I admit. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Rhoda,” Sophia explained, a trifle condescendingly. “She keeps to herself, anyhow. I do my best to lure her away from the dowager house, but she prefers to be alone most of the time.”
Rhoda nodded. The duchess had lost a great deal over the past year. Rhoda understood all too well.
“We’ll refer to this not as a house party, rather as a ‘quiet removal to the country.’ This shall deem it entirely respectable.” Sophia lifted Peaches off the ground so that the ducks would feel safer approaching them. After all this time, the pup still occasionally took it into her head that one of them would make for a delightful meal. “And the air is so much better there for your sister,” she cooed while gazing into the dog’s face. “Isn’t it, Peaches?” Only Sophia would refer to the daughter of a duke as being the sister to a small dog.
Perhaps Sophia was concerned about the baby’s health. The air in London could be unpleasant. “Fine then,” Rhoda conceded. “But not until the end of the week. I’ve promised my mother I would attend the Snodgrass Garden Party tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll need to convince her of this sudden dire need to head to the country. Emily, won’t your mother object to you missing opportunities to land a husband?”
“That’s the beauty of it.” Emily’s attitude turned quite cheerful. “Sophia was just saying, before you arrived, that His Grace had informed her of a few eligible bachelors she ought to invite as prospects for both of us. Isn’t that right, Sophia?”
Peaches caught sight of one of the larger ducks and let out an outraged bark. Sophia scowled. Rhoda wondered at how very different Sophia’s life had been just one year ago. As was the other former wallflower, Cecily’s. “What about Cecily? Have you heard from her lately?” Cecily and her husband, Mr. Stephen Nottingham, the Earl of Kensington’s cousin, had also recently increased the size of their little family by one. Cecily had given birth to a son a few months before little Harriette had come along.
“Of course, I’ll invite Cecily and Mr. Nottingham.” Sophia must be quite serious about this impromptu house party. Rhoda hadn’t considered how frustrating it must be for her friend to be in London and yet unable to attend any of the ton events. And if she could host a ‘quiet removal to the country’ within the confines of her mourning, well, then, who was Rhoda to argue?
“And those eligible gentlemen that His Grace told you about,” Emily reminded her.
“Oh, yes. Those.” Sophia sent a chagrined expression Emily’s way, but Emily simply smiled and tossed more bread toward the water.
“Yes. Those,” Emily agreed with an impish smirk.
Peaches took that moment to leap out of Sophia’s arms and before any of them could stop her, go chasing after one of the poor ducks who’d been so trusting.
“Peaches!” Sophia dropped the bread, sending the ducks into a frenzy.
A few of the ducks began flapping their wings in excitement. When Emily reached down in an attempt to save some of the loaf, her spectacles went flying.
“Don’t move! They’ll break if you step on them!” Emily’s horrified exclamation froze Sophia in place.
“I’ll get Peaches.” Rhoda took off at a run after the surprisingly speedy short-legged rat. “Peaches! Come back here! Peaches! No! Leave Lady Milestone alone! Oh, dear.” Rhoda navigated around bushes and trees and ladies with parasols as the little devil continued to elude her.
“Come back here!”
And just as Rhoda was closing in on the diminutive imp, masculine hands reached down and scooped Peaches off the ground.
Rhoda nearly skidded to a halt in order to keep from plowing the gentleman over.
“I’m so sorry. Thank you,” she gushed and reached her hands around the tiny sausage-like body at the same time that she realized Peaches’ savior was Mr. White.
“My pleasure.”
Rhoda kept her gaze pinned firmly upon his cravat as she lifted Sophia’s dog free of his grasp. She hadn’t been prepared to see him again so soon. Heat rushed to her face at the remembrance of what he’d witnessed the night before. She couldn’t meet his gaze. It was as though he could see into her thoughts.
“Um. Well. She got away…” Rhoda fumbled for polite conversation before she could return to Emily and Sophia.
“I’ve met Peaches before.” He chuckled. “We’re the best of friends, I assure you. And I do understand her desire to take flight on occasion.”
Ah, those eyes of his. She’d not been able to help herself, hearing him laugh. Knowing he had befriended the little dog.
And Peaches did seem to like him. Even now, the pup strained to be back in his arms, tongue peeking out and tail wagging.
Not likely the only female to ever do so.
“She wants to eat the ducks.” Rhoda shrugged, unable to keep herself from grinning up at him.
Mr. White gave in to the dog’s wishes and took her back from Rhoda again. Peaches attacked him mercilessly with kisses, but he merely tilted his head back, exposing the sinewy muscles of his neck for the dog to lick.
With a firm pat, he tucked the dog into his arms and managed to somehow wing his other for Rhoda to take. “Might I escort you back to your chaperones?”
Was he implying she’d been acting inappropriately again? Some of her pleasure subsided at the thought, but she took his arm nonetheless.
“Her Grace and Miss Goodnight are near the flower beds,” she ground out. “As is my maid.”
Damn him. Why did he make her feel this way? Like she had to defend herself—her actions.
He shortened his stride and walked them at a leisurely pace. Rhoda wanted to drag him along more quickly, but some ridiculous part of her enjoyed having his strength beside her, his masculine scent.
“You seem to be in good health and spirits this afternoon. I ought to have ensured your safe
ty back to your mother myself, last night after…” He cleared his throat. “Please accept my apologies. It was inexcusable of me.”
Rhoda turned her head to study him in surprise. How could she be angry at the man with Peaches tucked beneath his chin?
“I was fine. I am fine.” She wished she could forget the entire incident. It angered her that the fear she’d felt had entered her dreams the night before.
“Nonetheless, I am sorry.” This time, when she glanced at him, he met her gaze earnestly. He swallowed hard, halting their steps. “Will you forgive me?”
She’d not been angry with him for failing to escort her to the retiring room. She’d been angry that he’d seemed to judge her. That he’d pointed out that which she’d already been chastising herself.
“I did not invite his advances, Mr. White.” Rhoda stiffened beside him. “I’m not…” Only she had been. Once. Last summer. And now she felt like a fraud to defend herself.
“I did not mean to imply…”
Rhoda stared at the ground now. “I’m not…”
She didn’t know how to explain. She couldn’t tell her closest friends, so why did she even begin to feel compelled to tell him?
“Then I am sorry for that as well. I am sorry if I made you feel in any way—”
“Of course,” she cut him off. He was a vicar. “Of course, you have my forgiveness.” But who would forgive her?
Sophia’s arrival prevented them any further conversation. Which was a relief. Left alone with the vicar much longer and she’d likely regale him with her every sin.
“You bad girl, Peaches. Bad girl,” Sophia reprimanded the dog, who merely looked at her lovingly. And then she turned to Mr. White. “Thank you Justin! She does that sometime. Runs off. I can’t tell you how often I’ve had to go chasing after her.”
“Miss Mossant may simply require a tighter leash.” His joke caused Rhoda’s eyes to widen in astonishment and Sophia to erupt into a fit of giggles.
“Not amusing, Mr. White.” Rhoda narrowed her gaze at him. “Not amusing at all.” But his eyes twinkled back at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat.
Sophia quieted enough to glance between the two of them meaningfully.
“I thank you again, Mr. White.” Rhoda dropped her lashes to stare down at the ground. His presence disquieted her.
“I’m happy to be of assistance.”
Rhoda stepped back from him so that Sophia could attach Peaches’ leading string and set her on the lawn. “It is greatly appreciated.” Sophia smiled up at him after securing Peaches.
He nodded solemnly and tipped his hat. “I’ll bid you both good day, then.”
“Good day.” Rhoda bit her lip as he backed away and then turned to stride toward wherever he had been going in the first place.
When he finally disappeared, she turned to see Sophia watching her with a suspicious gleam in her eyes.
“Justin, My husband’s cousin, recently inherited a title. He is Carlisle now. As in the Earl of.”
“How very delightful for him,” Rhoda responded. Such things didn’t matter to her anymore.
As she strode back to where Emily was chatting with one of the maids, Sophia practically skipped alongside her. “Marriageable. That’s what I’d call him.”
Rhoda couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was also a vicar, for heaven’s sake. “You ought to introduce him to Emily, then.”
Rhoda waited for the perfect moment to inform her mother of Sophia’s invitation. A house party so early in the Season, really, was quite extraordinary. She must present the excursion in such a way that her mother could not refuse.
Thus, two days passed before Rhoda broached the subject.
She and Coleus, the eldest of her two younger sisters, sat quietly crocheting while Hollyhock, just ten and five, practiced at the pianoforte. Although Coleus had wanted to have her come out this Season, their mother had refused. She’d been emphatic that Rhoda must secure a husband first.
Rhoda’s mother and both of her sisters, therefore, had experienced the disappointment of St. John’s untimely demise along with Rhoda last summer. Unsurprisingly, her mother remained undaunted. With the knowledge that her eldest daughter had attracted a marquess, she now would set her sights on nothing lower than a viscount.
“Mama, Sophia is hosting a house party at Eden’s Court,” Rhoda mumbled vaguely, as though this was nothing unusual.
“I imagine Kent will be lovely during the summer months.” Her mother remained focused on her knitting, keeping her dark head bowed and her efficient fingers moving. Of course, her mother would assume the event would be held at the end of the Season.
“The party commences in four days.”
At this, her mother jerked her chin up and stared at her with disbelieving brown eyes, so similar to her own.
Rhoda plowed ahead, undeterred. “His Grace has invited some very eligible bachelors.” Sophia had informed her the duke had invited Mr. White—Lord Carlisle, she’d do well to remember. The very day after Sophia had informed her of this piece of news, an announcement had appeared in the papers. And Lord Blakely would be in attendance, although she’d wager that particular bachelor would refuse to marry until he became an octogenarian.
“Hmph.” Her mother did not seem entirely convinced. Well, of course not.
“Two unattached earls, Mother.”
A gleam of excitement emerged behind her mother’s eyes. This was not the first time Rhoda had witnessed this effect. If there was one thing that excited her mother these days, it was the prospect of Rhoda landing a title. “Who?”
“Um, Lord Blakely,” she began.
“That rake!” Her mother wasn’t all that impressed, apparently. But then she twisted her lips and scrunched up her nose. Lord Blakely was an earl, after all. “Well, I suppose he’s going to have to marry eventually. And who is the other? Certainly not the new one?”
“Yes, Mother, the vicar, Mr. Justin White. He is now Lord Carlisle.”
“Hmm…” Her mother set her knitting in the basket beside her. “Quite often a lady shows better away from the crowded balls. Gentlemen are less distracted and more able to notice those finer characteristics. And this will be hosted in Kent? By the Duchess of Prescott?”
“In four days. Coleus and Hollyhock are invited as well. Sophia says it will be mostly informal.”
And when such news reached their ears, both of her sisters went to work on Rhoda’s behalf. Rhoda grinned as she watched them swarm around their mother.
“Please, Mama!” Hollyhock clutched her hands to her chest, looking quite sorrowful really.
“There is nothing for us to do here! Until you allow me to come out, London offers me nothing but tediousness.” Coleus dropped to her knees. “Please, Mother, please?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Coleus.” Her mother rolled her eyes heavenward.
Before two minutes passed, however, her mother was shaking her head. “Give me the dates, dear. I’ll send notice to the hostesses I’ve already accepted. Excepting the garden party tomorrow, however. I do expect you to make the most of such a picturesque setting. Just in case.”
“Of course, Mother.”
It had been decided.
The Mossant ladies would be attending the Duchess of Prescott’s midseason house party.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Good Dunking
Without Emily—who’d cried off at the last moment—by her side, Rhoda had no choice but to attend the Snodgrass Garden party with her mother.
She wore one of her newer day dresses, a creation she’d collected the day before from Madam Chantal’s shop. Not given to false modesty, Rhoda knew the bold jonquil yellow color set off her hair and skin perfectly. It even drew out the little golden flecks of light in her plain brown eyes.
Not many women could carry off such tones, Madam had effused, while draping the material down Rhoda’s front. Rhoda would be envied.
Rhoda smoothed her skirts while an unusual collection
of nerves attacked her as her mother alighted from their coach.
She’d received an inordinate amount of attention at the Crabtrees’ ball. And then so many flowers arrived afterward.
She didn’t trust any of it—not the dance offers, nor the bouquets. Despite the gorgeous weather and the prospect of a delightful party, Rhoda wished she were already in Kent.
“You will outshine all the other ladies here today.” Rhoda’s mother grasped her by the elbow and led them around the path other guests were already following. “I must admit, Madam Chantal has outdone herself with that one,” she added with a sideways glance at the new dress.
“And yours.” Rhoda reached out to touch the fine silk of her mother’s understated day dress in deep Pomona green.
For a moment, Rhoda experienced a nostalgic comfort of going somewhere with her mother. Perhaps the familiar scent of her mama’s perfume brought it on. Mrs. Mossant had worn the same scent as long as Rhoda could remember.
“Such a shame St. John didn’t live to see you in it.”
Whoosh.
The warmth and security disappeared in one fell swoop. Any mention of St. John, or the events of last summer, never failed to drop Rhoda’s heart into the soles of her shoes. The edges of her vision clouded, and the world tilted awkwardly.
“I still cannot believe Miss Beauchamp landed the title. A duchess! You were so very close to having it yourself!” Rhoda wished her mother and sisters would forget about St. John. She wished even more that she could.
Nearing a cluster of guests, Mrs. Mossant patted Rhoda’s gloved hand as though she were a child. “There are Mrs. Potter and Mavis Torrey. I simply must express my regrets to them. Both are hosting parties next week that we’re going to miss. An apology is always best made in person.” She then pressed Rhoda onto a nearby bench and took her leave.
Mrs. Mossant had never made for a very good chaperone. She was too much of a socialite herself. Rhoda sighed and gazed around at the lovely setting. Lady Snodgrass had obviously planned her soiree so that it coincided with the blossoming of the most colorful flowers in her garden. Pink, purple, deep blues, and golden yellows matched the colorful bows tied to the canopy that had been set up a ways from the manor.
Hell of a Lady Page 4