Caroline had been dressed for dinner by Lady Easton’s maid and had sat by the window, gazing up and down Portland Place’s outlandishly wide avenue. There had not been much to see, until a gentleman exited his house a few doors down and across the road and came striding toward Lady Easton’s house.
Caroline was certain it must be Lady Easton’s nephew, Lord Bertridge. He was tall, his shoulders very broad, and his hair was dark, black as night. His features were rather sculpted, though the expression on those handsome features seemed terribly serious.
She hoped he was not terribly serious, as hewasterribly handsome.
As she was considering his person, now disappeared under the house’s portico, Lady Easton’s maid Prudence flung the door open.
“Miss Upton!” she said, fluttering in like a bird landing on a branch. “It is seven forty-four!”
“Goodness, so it is,” Caroline said. “Let me just make a few adjustments to my hair and I will go down.”
As Caroline sat in front of the looking glass, Prudence paced behind her.
“Now it is seven forty-five,” Prudence whispered.
“I see that,” Caroline said, not entirely certain why Prudence was to keep time for her. Dinner was not until eight. She wet her finger and wrapped a stray strand round it to give it some curl. Of course, once she made that adjustment, there were other adjustments to be made.
“Seven forty-six,” Prudence said. Though she had only announced the time, it sounded to Caroline as if she had said, “And now I die.”
“Heavens, calm yourself, Prudence,” Caroline said, rising. “I will go down this instant.”
Prudence had staggered out of her way but had not seemed soothed by the information.
Caroline had run down the stairs, thinking what an odd house it was.
Of course, shortly after entering the drawing room, she’d comprehended why Prudence had seemed on the verge of a nervous collapse. Lady Easton had very decidedly looked at the clock. Apparently, it was not just dinner at exactly eight, it was the drawing room at exactly seven forty-five.
She did not fret over it long though, as she found Lord Bertridge even more handsome up close. His manner, too, was somehow fascinating. He came off proper and stiff, but there was something else underneath and she was convinced the stiffness was a façade. His shoulders were extremely broad, and she could see from the width of his sleeves that his arms were quite powerful, as if he regularly engaged in boxing or some other arduous sport. Those who engaged in that sort of close combat were always of a passionate nature, and yet here he stood as if he had never put a foot out of place. It was as if he’d put on a coat of respectability to hide a wild, beating heart and an ungovernable nature. It was very intriguing.
At least, she hoped his demeanor was a façade, as both he and Lady Easton had seemed shocked that she fetched her father medicine when he had a drink headache. They had not seemed less shocked when she had clarified it was only ever on account of gin.
Now, they had been led into a small dining room by the footman, who seemed at once stern and nervous.
“This is the family dining room, Miss Upton,” Lady Easton said. “It is Wednesday, so we will be having a roasted beef, which we have every Wednesday. As you see, we require a breakfast room, a large dining room, and a small dining room in any house we occupy. It is just commonsense, to my mind, though God knows what we will find in Brighton. Probably just a room people eat in.”
They were seated with Lady Easton at the head, Lord Bertridge at the lower end, and herself in the middle.
“Have you never been to the house in Brighton, then?” Caroline asked.
“We do not make it a habit to go to Brighton,” Lady Easton said. “In fact, we have never set foot in it. Oh, we have friends who make it quite the habit, husbands and sons generally insisting upon it so they might bask in the royal light, tarnished as it may be. We are not so easily influenced.”
“We prefer to retire to our respective estates at this time of year, Miss Upton,” Lord Bertridge said. “I find it is necessary to make time for all those little adjustments and rectifications that are required. An estate cannot go on forever ignored if it is to be profitable.”
Lord Bertridge did not stop there. The entire first course was taken up by the lord’s planned adjustments and rectifications. Apparently, the cheese-making was going along splendidly and he planned to bring in even more cows than he had already to be able to increase the operation. He was even considering experimenting with sheep’s milk.
As he waxed on about cheese, Caroline imagined him in a boxing ring. He would probably box with his shirt off. That was a regular feature of boxing, she thought.
The roast beef was duly delivered, as itwasWednesday, and the lord came to the end of his cheese musings.
“I suppose, Miss Upton, you will know all about my Society of Sponsoring Ladies?” Lady Easton asked.
“Indeed, I do not,” Caroline said. She supposed it was some sort of charity and she’d soon find herself knitting gloves and scarves for children in unfortunate circumstances. She was perfectly amenable to the idea. Knitting was an excellent way to keep one’s hands busy when there was nothing else to do and she had knitted no end of things for both her brothers and sisters and the local parish.
“Six highly placed ladies, my aunt being one of course, have stepped forward and banded together to assist those who, while qualified by their parentage, cannot afford a proper season.”
Caroline had no notion of it, though she supposed that was how she’d landed here. Her father had heard of it and pushed her forward in partial payment of Lord Easton and the Regent’s gambling debts.
“You see, Miss Upton,” Lady Easton said, “the members of our society are all longstanding friends and we’ve all carried the same burden. None of us have daughters. So we thought it might be very pleasant to have a daughter for a season.”
