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“I gather it is not a good reputation,” she yelled into the horn propped against Susannah’s ear.
The white crest of Susannah’s hair tipped sideways as she craned to hear Jenny speak.
“He’s a cavalry officer,” Susannah explained. “He was in Spain fighting the Frenchies. From what I know, he was sent back in disgrace and is currently living at his cousin’s house.”
“Whatever for?” Far from being put off, Jenny was intrigued by the mystery.
“Cannot recall. A military matter. I gather his father is an important friend of Sir Arthur Wellesley, the general, and it saved him the ignominy of a court martial. I do not think it wise to associate yourself with him at your aunt’s until the dust has settled around his feet. As you well know, country folk can be such harsh judges. However, we must endeavour to keep an open mind.”
“Naturally, Grandma.” Susannah flicked open her fan and waved it before her face, covering her mouth. “I fully intend to keep an open mind. Lieutenant Seton and I could both benefit.”
“What’s that, my dear?”
“Nothing, Grandma. Nothing.”
Chapter 3
Jenny chose to wear a fern-green gown, white satin evening gloves, and a pheasant’s feather in her tightly coiled hair. Kitty greeted her with an admiring twinkle in her eyes.
“Such a delight to have your here, dearest,” she enthused as she welcomed Jenny on the threshold of the long salon.
Bockhampton House was too small a residence to host a ballroom, but it did have a fine saloon with venetian mirrors and elegant portraits of naval officers in full regalia. All around were sprigs of holly and wreathes of ivy. Jenny loved Christmas; it was her favourite time of year in London.
“Aunt, the pleasure is mine. I have longed for the opportunity to escape Bereworth. My dear grandparents, kind as they are, are not the best companions for a young lady.” Jenny slipped her arm around Kitty’s and allowed herself to be escorted into the room.
A fog of tobacco smoke greeted her first. A small cluster of men were gathered around a card table playing Piquet and puffing on their ivory pipes. Kitty steered her away from them.
“All married, I’m afraid,” she whispered into Jenny’s ear.
The huddle of wives stood deep in conversation on the other side of the salon, their backs forming an almost impenetrable barrier.
Jenny sighed. “It’s not that I feel the burning desire to walk that path again, but as I’m twenty-one, I can hardly leave it for much longer, can I?”
“Indeed not,” Kitty agreed. “It’s such a shame about William—”
Jenny quickly dampened down her fury and interjected, “Please, do not sully this wonderful evening with him.”
Kitty halted by the thin figure of Mary and her rotund husband, the Reverend Mills. “Mary, you remember Jenny?”
“Of course, Mama.” Mary curtsied.
The Rev Mills bowed. Although not above thirty years, Rev Mills achieved the refinements of premature old age with relative ease and apparent contentment. Poor Mary looked like a lost waif next to his ballooning waistline and puffed cheeks. As for Mary, according to Kitty, she was exceedingly happy with her husband.
“Thank goodness they live the other side of Poole. I could not bear to attend his church as a regular patron,” Kitty had confessed in private to Jenny at the wedding.
It seemed an age ago that she had gone to that dull party—the last she had attended with William upon her arm.
Kitty, when left on her own, was extravagant in dress and happy to purchase the finest wines and sherries for the purpose of entertainment.
Across the room in the dimmest corner lurked a man in a blue uniform. He carried under one arm his shako hat while clutching the handle of his ceremonial sword with the other hand. His hair was as unruly as curly straws, and even in the low light, it was obvious his face with its bronze hue had borne the brunt of a warmer climate than England. Only his eyes were cast in shadow by his hooded eyebrows. He was not smiling; he looked miserable and cast aside. Jenny empathised with that feeling.
Kitty followed Jenny’s gaze. “Lieutenant Seton.”
“Introduce me,” Jenny said swiftly. She could not allow him to stand all evening alone in the corner like a naughty school boy. Even her reluctant grandmother would not be so unkind as to leave him abandoned.
“Are you sure?” Kitty asked.
“You invited him?”
