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“Yes!” the ladies chorused.
While she had been crying and screaming into her pillow each night, he had been planning a ball? Anger surged through her, and she eagerly tucked it into her heart for it to keep company with her torment.
“But…but Lord Westfall has never entertained since he came into his title,” her mother said, clearly unable to reconcile with such an announcement.
The housekeeper knocked, then rolled in a tea trolley, and in quick order laid out the teapot and cups along with several French delicacies and other assorted pastries before departing. Mamma served tea, and Lady Beechman eagerly reached for a madeleine and popped it in her mouth, her eyes fluttering in pleasure.
“These are positively decadent. I must insist on getting this recipe for my cook.”
“I made them,” Evie said with a soft smile.
“You?”
“Why yes, baking is an art I’ve always loved.”
Her mother looked on the verge of collapsing.
“What an incredible talent,” Lady Beechman finally said with a genuine smile. “I quite envy you, Lady Evie.”
She canted her head to one side. “I’ll be compiling a book soon with some of my more flamboyant recipes, which will only be made available to selected households. I may even change a few instructions to add character to each recipe based on the fashionable household seeking to purchase my recipes.”
“Purchase!” Miss Dawson exclaimed.
“Why yes, you do not believe I should give them away?”
“Of course not,” she said hurriedly. “But whatever shall you do with the money?”
Evie took a sip of her tea. “I’ll be forming a charity to help the many children left indigent.”
The marchioness smiled warmly. “I believe I shall be your first patron. I believe every piece of confectionary I have begged for the recipes is your creation.”
“Yes.”
“Upon my word!” Lady Jane said. “We have been quite diverted from our news, haven’t we?”
From the sympathy glowing in Miss Dawson’s eyes, Evie suspected she knew the diversion had been quite deliberate on Evie’s part.
“Yes, we did, though I am very sure there is other news to be shared?” Evie prodded.
Lady Jane’s head shook, her dark curls bouncing on her forehead, her brown eyes sparkling. “My dear, all other news has been superseded, the newspapers and scandal sheets are atwitter. It was even reported the Times ran a piece on Lord Westfall’s impending ball. It has been confirmed he bought Belleview Park, and preparations are being made for it to be held there.”
Evie had heard of Belleview Park and recalled the furor that had surrounded the earl who had sold one of his most stately and prized unentailed homes. Sitting on seven hundred acres of prime grounds, admired for its rolling lawns and exquisitely arranged gardens, it boasted over one hundred rooms, and a very large lake lauded for its abundance of fish. The manor estate had been coveted. Somehow it did not surprise her to learn Richard had been the mysterious buyer whose identity society had been desperate to uncover.
“The guest list will be from the highest echelon of society, we’re told. The Duke of Wellington and the Prince Regent have been specially invited, and it has been confirmed they intend to attend.”
A startled laugh jerked from Evie, and all eyes swung to her. Surely they jested. Not even when rumors spoke of Richard being specially invited to the Prince Regent’s scandalous house parties had he attended. His contempt for their extravagant follies had been too entrenched for him to play the hypocrite. What in the world was going on?
“Have you not received an invitation?” Lady Beechman queried, stealing another sweet treat. “The ball is to be held this Friday.”
Her mother inhaled swiftly, a hectic flush coloring her face. “Perhaps our invitation was sent to London. Not many in society are aware we’ve retired to Derbyshire.”
“Oh, dear me,” Lady Jane said sympathetically.
Unable to simply bear hearing any more, Evie launched to her feet. “Please forgive me, I’ve developed a sudden headache.” With quick curtsies to their callers, she hurried from the parlor, and dashed up the stairs to her room, simply hating the tears that were threatening to spill.
…
The morning of the auspicious ball arrived and passed quite pleasantly for Evie. Though as the clock ticked toward evening, her mother’s acute and much-lamented distress that an invitation had not been delivered increased. Evie was quite relieved, though it confirmed the break in her and Richard’s friendship was irreversible. The sense of loss was overwhelming, and it horrified her that she even still thought about a man who had such little regard for her.
