One
London, 1892
Esther had never understood what true happiness meant until she’d agreed to go to the most anticipated garden party of the year…and then it was too late.
Sunlight glinted off the white roofs of the pavilions scattered in the garden of Lord Atkinson, and the fresh scent of flowers thickened the air. Everything was lovely, but that was the tenth party she’d attended in a row without any days of rest.
A moment for herself to read, walk, or go to a concert would be wonderful, instead of an endless stream of introductions and gentlemen who gave her sideways glances no matter what she did. If she didn’t say anything, people would give her funny stares or make jokes about her silence; if she talked about her passion for cricket, the result was the same. She was at her wits’ end.
Not to mention her mother reminding her that time was passing and so far there was no suitor in sight.
She wasn’t even sure what the party was supposed to celebrate as she promenaded along the crowded path through manicured flowerbeds next to her mother. The guests nibbled sandwiches or were drinking lemonade, and lemonade was the closest thing to happiness she could have right now.
“I would like a glass of lemonade.” She eyed the long table where a variety of drinks rested under a pavilion.
“Not lemonade.” Mother smiled at a passing lady. “Too much sugar. It makes your lips sticky.”
“Ratafia then.”
“Too much alcohol.”
“Coffee?”
“It stains your teeth.”
She huffed. “What is left then? Rain?”
“Nothing wrong with a glass of water.” Mother hooked her arm through Esther’s. “You don’t understand how important today’s party is. Many of the most eligible bachelors are here.”
“Impressive,” she said without enthusiasm.
“And Minnie told me she would drink only water with ice. She’s over there, I think.”
She searched for her friend through the crowd. “That’s not Minnie. That’s Holly, and she’s drinking ratafia.”
Mother took out her lorgnette. “Heavens, you’re right. But I saw Minnie earlier, and she was drinking water—there! That’s her.”
Minnie was wearing the most high-necked and covering gown among the guests, despite the warm day. Not an inch of her skin was visible between her chin and shoe tips.
Esther had known Minnie since they were fifteen, almost for eight years now, and didn’t remember having ever seen her friend’s décolletage or her wearing anything that was too tight or revealing. Her dark hair was gathered in a serious chignon Grandmama would approve of, and yes, she was drinking iced water.
Esther stooped her shoulders.
Minnie had won the Primmest Lady contest at the Royal Ladies’ Society three years in a row, while Esther hadn’t passed the first selection. Three years in a row.
Mother poked her lightly with her elbow. “Minnie has a new suitor. Did you know that?”
“No.” She wished she didn’t sound sour. Minnie was pretty and kind, a little boring if anything, because she never did anything that was considered remotely unladylike, but she deserved all the attention. “What is it? Number four?”
“Six, actually. She’s gathering suitors like dung attracts flies.”
Esther came to a stop. “That’s unfair. You shouldn’t compare dear Minnie to dung.”
Mother lowered her voice. “What I mean is that I think there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to dear Minnie.”
“She’s lovely. Of course she has many suitors.”
“Pish. She’s pretty, yes, but many pretty ladies are left without attention. Every gentleman seems enchanted by her. Mark my words, something wanton is brewing underneath that nun’s-habit-like gown.”
