As Lady Catherine scanned the ballroom room, she could not help but to wonder why so many girls with pristine and gloried descents should be so plain. Poor Miss Blaise—she could trace her family back to the twelfth century, but why must her eyes resemble that of a fish? Why must she dress in a silver silk, which only reminded one of a landed carp? Lady Catherine could only hope that some gentleman in attendance this evening would see the girl’s true value and look past any outward charms that might fail to present themselves.
That hope was forced to waver somewhat, in noting that it was Miss Farnsworth who seemed to garner most of the attention.
Lady Catherine quietly sighed. At least she would have Amelia Hemming as her whist partner. That must serve as consolation.
Hayes was studiouslyavoiding the eye of Miss Blaise, who was just as determinedly trying to catch his own. In truth, he hardly knew where to look, there were so many directions to avoid.
Much to his surprise, he’d seen Miss Farnsworth enter the ballroom. He’d had no notion that she could be one of Lady Catherine’s set. He’d thought she came from some middling family in Surrey, and in any case, she was a deal too pretty in a dark blue gown to be in attendance atthisparticular ball.
At least there would be no card game with Miss Farnsworth. While the older people in attendance would settle to whist, the paltry number of single gentlemen in attendance would be required to be on the ballroom floor.
“My God,” Lord Grayson said, standing next to him. “What on earth is happening to Lady Catherine’s ball? She has let in a pretty girl.”
“That is Miss Farnsworth,” Hayes said quietly.
“Indeed,” Grayson said thoughtfully. “How interesting. Well, let us not allow the moss to grow on our boots, her card will be filled in a trice.”
“I have no intention of entering my name on the lady’s card,” Hayes said.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Grayson said dismissively. “If you do not apply to her, you will seem a poor sport. You might get away with it at a large ball, but she is clearly superior to every female here and your motives for passing her over will be mocked from here to Brighton. It will be said that Lord Ashworth experiences a temper tantrum upon losing at cards.”
Hayes bristled at the idea, though he knew very well that Grayson was right. Further, he had been waiting for his opportunity to show the world he was not bothered by losing a few hands at piquet.
Grayson grasped his arm and pulled him forward. “Hurry now, or we shall be beaten to it.”
Lily had guessedfrom her aunt’s description that Lady Catherine’s ball might be somewhat odd. Most glaring, there were not so many people as would be usual. Perhaps if it were to be a small party confined to the drawing room, with a dance struck up by somebody on the pianoforte, it might seem the thing. But this was to be a formal ball, with an orchestra, and there were not above sixteen couples.
Worse, of all people who should find their way in the door, there was Lord Ashworth.
He was impeccably dressed, as always. His coat perfectly tailored to his tall frame and his cravat tied elegantly simple, its only adornment a small emerald pin. He stood talking to a gentleman Lily did not know.
Though she could not help admiring Lord Ashworth’s physical person, she had no particular wish to speak to him. She could not say the same for a lady in silver silk, who seemed to regard him as a quarry that must be silently stolen up on. The lady had been staring at him and edging ever closer for some minutes.
Lily turned away as she noted the lady in silver silk was to be disappointed in her attempt to capture. Both Lord Ashworth and the unknown gentleman made their way toward her.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hemming said to her softly. “No card game here, Lily. I must be firm on that idea, Lady Catherine would not like it. She abhors low gossip. So she says, in any case.”
“You must not fear on that front, Aunt,” Lily said. “He shall not goad me into it, though he will likely do his best.”
The gentlemen had arrived and Lily curtsied.
“May I, Miss Farnsworth?” Lord Ashworth said, holding out his hand.
Lily handed over her card as she did not know what else to do. Why would he take a dance? It was most unaccountable.
As Lord Ashworth put his name down, he said, “Miss Farnsworth, Mrs. Hemming, may I present Lord Grayson?”
Lord Grayson executed a bow with rather more flourish than Lily was used to seeing.
“Mrs. Hemming, delighted,” Lord Grayson said. “Miss Farnsworth, charmed. May I hope to be among your partners this evening?”
Lord Ashworth had done with her card and Lord Grayson took it from him. Lily noted the peculiar twinkle in his eye as he viewed it. “I see these callow youth who have gamed up the courage to take a dance with Miss Farnsworth did not go so far as to dare supper. But you, Ashworth? I am surprised that I find myself so fortunate.”
And with that, Lord Grayson marked his name down for the dance before supper.
Though Lily hadthought Lord Grayson had been unfair to deem the gentleman on her card as callow youth who had not dared supper, her opinion underwent a significant transformation after the ball had begun. It felt as if she were back in Surrey again—perspiring hands leaving a mark on her glove and a trodding of toes for good measure. Even more uncomfortable, the young gentlemen seemed to be not very experienced in polite conversation. She had been rather more lectured to than conversed with.
She was to know that Mr. Hackeray was the younger son of an earl whose family went back to the fourteenth century. He had come to London to marry an heiress and pour that lady’s fortune into a crumbling estate he’d come into. He would bring the house back to its former glory. He had quietly mused that any lady would be eager to take on the esteemed Hackeray name. Lily had quickly assured him that, despite the scheme’s obvious allure, she was no heiress. He seemed to take it very badly.
