Last Chance for the Charming Ladies: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  But when she tried to talk about how lovely the plants were, someone would make a comment about how wild and awful it was. People would offer up gossip they’d heard about ‘running with the natives’. They would make snide remarks about how it took ‘so very long’ for things like fashion and deportment and dancing styles to reach those foreign ports.

  Poor Miss Worthing was not so ignorant that she did not know when people were making fun of her. She was a fish out of water, but she wasn’t a stupid one.

  Edward could see her trying to hide her distress as she gamely answered questions about herself and her upbringing.

  “Well yes,” she said in response to a question. “I often had to go out into the field to help. Father was ill, you see.”

  “You would never catch me doing such a thing,” Miss Hennings said, sounding both horrified and amused.

  “What a state your poor skin must be in!” said another lady.

  “Oh, no, I think it is rather fetching,” said yet another. “It helps her to stand out from the other ladies, you know. I’m sure you will get many questions about it.”

  Edward knew that physical violence was not the answer but he did sometimes wish that he was allowed to slap women.

  At least, however, this had an odd silver lining to it. He was so busy worrying about Miss Worthing that he had no time to fret over his own circumstances.

  Unfortunately, as the dinner went on, the more nervous Miss Worthing got the more she forgot the lessons Georgiana had taught her.

  At one point she even picked up the wrong fork. Edward had to stop himself from reaching over and fixing it for her. Miss Worthing was not a child and would not appreciate his interfering as though she were one.

  But every mistake, every slip up, only made it worse for her. The others could see that they were rattling her, and it gave them nothing but delight.

  It seemed that he was not the only person who was upset by this behavior. He saw some of the other men and women appearing uncomfortable. A few of them would try and change the subject.

  But it wasn’t enough, he feared, to make up for Miss Worthing’s growing lack of confidence.

  He could see her bad habits growing stronger as dinner wore on. She would make a comment about a lady’s dress or accidentally interrupt a lord as he was talking. It was as though her nervousness made her restless and impatient, like a bird beating its wings against a cage.

  Edward didn’t know who he was more frustrated with.

  Why did they have to poke and prod at her? Why did they have to treat her like a wild animal brought for their amusement?

  But at the same time—had Miss Worthing learned nothing? Could she not remember that staying calm was the best of her options? That she must maintain her composure and not show them that they affected her?

  It was unbearably frustrating. Edward was forced to sit there and do nothing. Except of course for trying to direct the conversation elsewhere.

  “I have heard that a most entertaining play is being put on in the Haymarket Theatre,” he said.

  That got everyone discussing the theatre for a short bit. That is until Miss Hennings commented to Miss Worthing on what sort of theatre they had in the Caribbean.

  “Is it all just natives running about and dancing?” she asked. “I should think that by the time you get a proper play it is a few years behind the times.”

  That seemed to be the final straw for Miss Worthing. She got two bright spots of pink high up on her cheeks but looked Miss Hennings directly in the eye.

  “You seem to be under the impression that we live in the midst of an untamed jungle,” Miss Worthing said. “I can assure you that the natives, as you call them, are surprisingly possessed of manners. For instance, they know how to properly treat a new acquaintance.”

  Edward almost choked on his wine as a laugh threatened to bubble up inside of him. Well played, Miss Worthing, he thought. Well played.

  Miss Hennings looked as though she were fuming over that. Edward shot a look over to Georgiana, who looked as grave as he felt.

  Miss Hennings had been only amusing herself before. Now she was truly upset and would come after Miss Worthing with a vengeance.

  Not directly, of course. Miss Hennings could see the stern look that Edward was giving her. She had to know that a direct attack against Miss Worthing would go nowhere. Not when Miss Worthing was so clearly the friend of a duke and a duke’s sister.

  But there would be other ways that Miss Hennings could sabotage Miss Worthing.

  Edward was worried to find out what those ways were.

  Chapter 7

  Maria thought she might crawl into a hole and die.

  She had been nervous the entire way to the ball, but this was even worse than she had thought.

  How could people be so rude and thoughtless? How could they say all of those things just to make sport of her?

  And to make sport of her beloved island. Honestly. She would love to take them all there and let the “natives”, as Miss Hennings seemed so eager to call them, have at them. It was not nearly so uncivilized out in the colonies as they all seemed to think.

  If one were to ask the assembled guests, one would think that Maria and her father had been living in mud huts. That their servants had run around naked. That she hadn’t even learned English or knew what a corset was until arriving in London.

  Perhaps they might genuinely believe such things. Perhaps it was only that they were so ignorant. But Maria wasn’t stupid. She knew when people were making fun of her.

  And that gleam in Miss Hennings’ eyes as she led the others in making their little comments…that was malicious. It was not out of ignorance and genuine curiosity. It was awful sport, plain and simple.

  Maria felt like letting the earth swallow her up.

  For the first time since coming to London, she genuinely wanted to find a husband as quickly as possible. As soon as she did she could stop going to these dinners and balls. Then she’d be free.

  It certainly didn’t help that the more nervous she got, the more things about her behavior she forgot. She and Father would interrupt and talk over one another all the time at home. And so she ended up interrupting someone that she was pretty sure was an earl.

  As if that weren’t awful enough, she grabbed the wrong fork at one juncture. She saw Miss Reginald shake her head minutely and so Maria quickly grabbed the correct fork. But the damage was done. She saw the looks that everyone was sneaking at her.

  How on earth was she supposed to find a husband if everyone thought she was some wild creature who didn’t even know how to eat properly at dinner?

  She tried to shoot Miss Reginald a look pleading with her to have them retire early for the evening. But Miss Reginald didn’t see it, and Maria knew that wasn’t the answer.

  If they were to duck out of the ball so early it would be seen as unforgivably rude. And Maria knew that she didn’t need to give anyone another excuse to make a comment about her.

  Besides, how was she to find a husband if she fled? She had to at least make an attempt to get to know the men assembled.

  When dinner was finished, the other guests started arriving. That had been something else that Maria had learned from Miss Reginald. Apparently only the most intimate and honored of guests were invited for dinner beforehand.

  It was a long and exhausting process, Miss Reginald said. Picking out who could come, who would get along with whom. How not to insult any guests by inviting others that they did not get along with or were too below their station.

  And then actually figuring out the seating arrangements! That was a whole other headache, according to Miss Reginald.

  Maria knew that she had only been invited to the dinner part because of Lord Reginald and his sister. And now she had messed it all up by falling all over herself throughout the entire meal.

  If only those ladies hadn’t had to poke at her so. They had asked such questions—and Maria knew they were not thoughtful questions. Lor
d Reginald’s face had told her so even if she’d been unable to decipher it for herself.

  Perhaps it was only that they were spending so much time together through living in the same house. But she could tell from the way his jaw ticked and the distinct look in his eyes that he was upset. No, angry. He was angry with those ladies.

  Maria could not help but remember all that he had said about society. Could it be that he was right? That there was nothing but cattiness and thoughtlessness to be found in London society?

  She felt miserable. All those stories that her mother had told her. All the fun that her mother had. The friendships. The dances. It felt like a fairy tale now. A ridiculous one.

  Perhaps Mother had just made up all the nice parts. Or exaggerated them. Made London seem like a place of wonders for the sake of the storytelling and the sake of her young daughter.

  As they went to make their way to the ballroom and the other guests began to arrive, Maria found herself taken by the arm and moved to the side.

  It was Lord Reginald.

  “Pretend as though it does not affect you,” he whispered quickly. “Or that what they say amuses you. When they see that you are hurt it only increases their appetite for hurting you.”

  “I cannot hide what I feel,” Maria protested.

  Lord Reginald looked saddened when she said that. “Nor do I wish that you had to. But you must. You will have to deal with their like far more often than you would wish to.

  “If you show them that you are unaffected they will lose their taste for it. There will be no more sport in it for them.”

  “You make them sound like animals,” Maria could not help but reply. “Perhaps I ought to kill them with kindness.”

  Lord Reginald looked as though the very thought made him want to roll his eyes with disdain. “Miss Worthing, please. Do as I suggest. It will make your life that much easier for you.”

  “I will do my best.” It was all that she could promise. She was not trained in how to hide what she was feeling.

  Lord Reginald nodded, guiding her back in line with the others and entering the ballroom. Hopefully nobody had noticed their quick little detour. “Good.”

  Everyone had moved into the ballroom and the music was being struck up. Wine was being served and the guests were drinking it. It was a much livelier affair than Maria had expected.

  She could not help but gaze around her at the wide room. The wallpaper. The gilded chandelier that shone and sparkled high above them.

  It was quite lovely, if she did say so herself. She knew that she was no expert in design or fashion. But she knew that this looked nice, at least to her.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad if she complimented the hostess on her lovely ballroom. It would be an excuse to get away from anyone she’d been forced to endure at the dinner table, anyhow. And it might make up for her lapses in manners then.

  Their hostess was a lovely lady, with dark eyes and soft brown hair starting to go gray.

  Maria remembered to curtsy. “Mrs. Dale, may I just say what an exquisite room this is. I love the choice in coloring.”

  To her surprise, Mrs. Dale did not insinuate that Maria was backward for being so enthusiastic. In fact she smiled, as if taken by surprise. “That is very sweet of you to say so. It took me forever to think of just the right wallpaper.”

  “How did you come upon it?” Maria asked.

  To her surprise, again, Mrs. Dale happily told her. It was as though the poor lady had been waiting for someone to notice the hard work she had put into redecorating.

  She led Maria through the room, describing the furnishings and explaining how she had handled the workers.

  “It’s not easy at all,” she confided. “When you are mistress of your own house, you will learn.”

  “Oh, but I do know,” Maria said. Then she realized that sounded impertinent. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. I only meant that—I helped to run my father’s household, since my mother passed.”

  “You poor dear, when was that? And who was your mother, pray tell?”

  That led to a surprisingly delightful discussion. Mrs. Dale knew her mother!

  “Such a delightful creature she was,” Mrs. Dale said. “Now that you tell me, of course I can see her in your face. Oh, the stories I could tell you!”

  “Please do,” Maria said. She was starved for more information about her mother, and even her father, and their lives when they were young the way she was now.

  Mrs. Dale was the hostess and so couldn’t spend all of her time on one person. But she did introduce Maria to a group of lovely older ladies that were of the same age. They had all known Maria’s parents as well.

  “Come, come, sit with us,” said the Countess of Wistershire.

  “Oh, she does look just like her,” exclaimed Mrs. Rutlage.

  Soon Maria found herself the center of attention from these older ladies. They asked her about life in the colonies the same as the younger ladies at dinner had. Except that these women spoke with gentle curiosity and listened eagerly to all that she said.

  “I wish my son had found a lady as capable as you,” said one woman. “He married this girl last year. She’s pretty enough but not a thought in her head.”

  Maria blushed. “I’m certain that I’m not as much of a catch as all that.”

  Mrs. Dale was stopping by again and frowned. “What, because of what those young ladies were saying at dinner? Do not trouble your pretty head over them, Miss Worthing.”

  “It is because you have arrived to dinner with Lord Reginald,” the Countess said wisely.

  The other ladies all nodded.

  Maria looked from one to the other. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Why, it shows that you are intimately acquainted with him.”

  Maria flushed at the use of the word ‘intimately’. “His father and my father were best friends in boyhood. I hope that I am speaking in truth when I call Miss Reginald my dear friend.

  “But I have hardly spoken a word to the duke! He is always so busy. The fact that he makes time to become acquainted with me at all is quite thoughtful of him. I would not in any way call us greatly acquainted. We are not friends.”

  “Those ladies do not see that,” Mrs. Dale replied. “They see only that you are staying in the home of the man that they wish to marry. And you are a pretty young thing.”

  “You are competition,” Mrs. Rutlage said. “Dangerous competition. Whether you know it or not.”

  Maria was feeling quite overwhelmed. She could hardly dare to think that she was worth catching the eye of a baron, never mind a duke.

  “One can hardly blame them,” said another lady. “He is a most charming and educated gentleman. His wealth and breeding are more than enough to commend him, of course.

  “But he is nothing short of a true gentleman. Anyone can see it. He is quite charming. And very well educated. He can converse with anyone it seems, and on any subject.”

  Maria wanted to laugh. Yes, it was true, Lord Reginald could be charming. But he was also stubborn and cranky. He preferred reading over socializing.

  He was a marvelous person. And sometimes she wished he was less charming and handsome by half. But he was just a man. He wasn’t some fairytale prince to fawn over.

  Except that apparently according to these ladies at least, he was.

  “I think it’s quite unfair of them to judge me so. If I may be so bold,” she said.

  “Do not worry, dear, we think so as well,” the Countess assured her, patting her hand. “But young ladies can be rather too caught up in the competition for a husband.”

  “They see other women only as threats,” Mrs. Rutlage intoned.

  “That seems rather self-centered of them,” Maria noted.

  It was probably naïve of her to say such a thing, but the other women just looked delighted with her.

  “Just like her mother,” said one. “Such a compassionate person she was.”

  Maria blushed.
“Thank you.” She hated that she was blushing but at least now she was doing it because she was being praised. At dinner she was doing it because she was being mocked and ridiculed.

  “You know it is a shame that it took your father so long to get you to London,” said another lady. “I would have loved to introduce you to my sons had you been here a year or two sooner. Alas, they are already married.”

  “I fear your sons would not wish to marry me anyhow,” Maria confided to them. “I made a most horrible fool of myself at dinner. Lord and Miss Reginald must be regretting their association with me even now.”