Page 13 of A Sham Engagement

Elenora pushed herself partly upright on her pillows. “Well, I am now. What time is it?” Hard to be annoyed with these two.

Augusta, the elder by barely twelve months, bounced up and down. “I believe it’s gone ten. We couldn’t wait any longer to find out about the ball. We just had to wake you. Mama is still in bed and you know what Papa’s like. He’ll have spent the entire evening in the card room.”

Not quite.

Elenora rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. What time had she gone to bed? After four, that was certain, and as bed had not brought sleep for some time, the thought that she could have done with remaining undisturbed until at least midday arose. But she loved her younger sisters, despite having little in common with them. “Where is my wrap?”

In the other bed, Petunia pulled the covers over her head and groaned. She too must be as tired as Elenora.

Frances bounded off the bed and seized Elenora’s favorite shawl from where it lay spread over a chair near the window. “Here it is. Now put it on and tell us all about the ladies’ gowns.”

“And how handsome the men were.”

“And who you danced with.”

“And what you had for supper.”

“Can’t you talk a bit more quietly?” Petunia’s muffled voice emerged from her covers, but not her face. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Elenora wrapped the shawl about her shoulders. After all, this was February, and as no one had been in as yet to light the fire, a chill hung in the air. Neither Augusta nor Frances appeared to have noticed though. She surveyed the two eager faces, staring at her in anticipation. What should she tell them? “I suppose the ball was quite nice. Not nearly so jolly as the ones at the Assembly Rooms in Winchester. Much more formal, I’d say.” Not that she’d ever enjoyed her outings to the Assembly Rooms, but at least there she’d known a few other people.

Both girls assumed disappointed expressions. “Gowns,” Augusta said with a sigh. “You must have seen lots of beautiful gowns.”

Elenora sighed. She hadn’t really been looking at the gowns, but she’d better make something up for her sisters. “Lady Routledge’s gown was gorgeous.” But what color had it been? No idea. Better make something up. The only gown that sprang to mind from last night was the one worn by Lady Raby in that deep red. A red that had seemed a little improper, especially when combined with the sinuous way she danced. “She had a crimson gown with gold embroidery, and gold jewelry.”

“Was it a terrible press?” Frances asked, bouncing a bit more, presumably having given up on extracting gown descriptions from her sister. “And did you dance every dance? With handsome young men? Were there lots of handsome young men?”

“Officers in their regimentals?” Augusta clasped her hands together. She’d been allowed to attend the Assembly Rooms in Winchester, so she’d met a few young men such as these. “I do love their red uniforms. So dashing.”

Elenora bit her lip. If only her sisters would leave her alone. Now she was properly awake, all she wanted to do was think about the events of last night, and how somehow she’d ended up an engaged young lady. To the heir of an earl. Not something she’d expected to happen on her very first outing into society. Not something she was even pleased about. How had she allowed him to talk her into this sham engagement? Was she a fool? Had she had too much to drink? “Yes, yes and no. Everyone who’s anyone was there, I think. And the men Mama wanted me to dance with were definitely not handsome. Rich and titled, but not handsome.”

Frances’s face fell. “Were the handsome men not rich and titled then?” She sounded deeply disappointed.

Augusta ignored her. “Was the Prince of Wales there?” She liked to follow the court news.

Had he been? Elenora had no idea. She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t.”

Augusta pulled a face. “Imagine if he’d danced with you. How exciting that would have been.”

Elenora frowned. “I have heard he’s very old and corpulent now, so no, I would not have liked to have danced with him and refuse to imagine it as it’s repellent to me.”

Augusta gave a little screech. “Ellie! You can’t say things about the Prince! He’ll be king himself one day and no one should say bad things about him.”

“Oh, do stop talking about the Prince of Wales,” Frances said. “I agree with Ellie that dancing with him would have been awful. Like dancing with a fat old uncle. Dreadful, and I would have said no to him. But do tell us who you did dance with, Ellie dear. Weren’t any of them even a little bit handsome? Were they all titled? And most importantly, were they rich?”

“Most important would surely be, did she like them?” Augusta snapped, clearly miffed at her sisters’ disdain for her hero.

The covers in the other bed shook. “Do be quiet, can’t you?”

Everyone ignored Petunia.

“No, I didn’t like them,” Elenora managed to insert into her sisters’ conversation. “And now I’d like to get up. Frannie, can you ring for my maid, please, to come and help me.”

Augusta gave a deep sigh. “You are a sad disappointment to us, Ellie. I’m sure when I go to my first ball I’ll take notice of everything I see and come back and give Frannie a detailed account. And I’m sure I’ll meet some handsome young men to dance with. I sometimes wonder if you go around with your eyes closed.”

Frannie was tugging the bell pull. “Me too. I can’t wait for it to be my turn. You’re so lucky being the oldest. Well… the oldest girl.”

Augusta seemed to recall something. “Were Joly and Matt there? I heard Mama and Papa talking about Matt having been sent down from Oxford.”