Page 44

If Lenora had found herself on the cusp of her eighth Season, she, too, might feel distrustful. Suspicious. Full of exhausted ennui. She would most certainly be unwilling to indulge in artifice.

But what did she, a country-bred young lady in her first Season, have to offer such a lady?

Lenora imagined herself, not as Miss Lenora Wainwright, but as Viscountess Asquith. As Simon’s wife, courtesy would be her office. She’d wish to smooth the edges of society, and in so doing, offer Simon—no stranger to reserve himself—a kind of shelter.

An honorable aim and an aspiration within her reach. If she redirected her attention to his comfort and the comfort of the other guests, she could abandon her anxiety.

Anxiety not helped—she half-smiled and wobbled her head, with it the weight of a generous bouquet of feathers catching the breeze—by wearing Nettie’s colorful hat.

Likely, she looked as ridiculous as she felt apprehensive and overheated. But she could no more remove the hat than she could loosen her yellow spencer’s encroaching collar—yet another sartorial mistake. When taken together with the hat, any direct gaze at her would probably require a squint.

She frowned. Why hadn’t she worn one of her usual Pomona green walking dresses?

Because, for once, you didn’t want to fade into the background.

“There!” Lady Asquith indicated a carriage by lifting her chin. “That’s the Hampton crest.”

Lenora followed the older woman’s gaze. The high-sprung Hampton town coach looked like a gleaming onyx bowl perched atop a sling. The carriage was driven by an expressionless whip straight from the prior century and drawn by four white horses, perfectly matched in color. The footman and tiger occupying the back rail were powdered and liveried.

A breathtaking show of wealth.

While she’d known Hampton kept a fine stable, the horses were of a quality beyond her expectation. Asquith’s cattle no longer seemed such an extravagance.

The whip maneuvered the conveyance to the entrance without a spring-squeak to be heard, and the footman went to work. In minutes, Asquith, Preston, and Lady Amelia had exited the carriage.

Sir Brenton performed the introductions.

Lady Amelia acknowledged the mention of her name with the briefest of curtsies. She was just as stunning as Lenora remembered, but so reserved she almost seemed incapable of animation.

While Asquith and Sir Brenton busied themselves with tickets, Preston initiated conversation.

“Miss Lenora, I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance.” He smiled with all the shiny charm of a well-oiled boot.

“You have?” Lenora slanted a suspicious glance in Lady Asquith’s direction.

“Your godmother and my mother are bosom friends.”

“How nice,” she replied with a glossy smile of her own. She suspected Preston was what Emily called a drawing room dandy—mannered, full of compliments, and difficult to truly know. She directed her gaze toward Amelia. “I shouldn’t like to leave your sister out of our conversation,” she added, in a chiding tone.

“’Melia?” He glanced at Amelia, standing slightly apart. “She hardly ever talks. In company.”

His two observations had been distinct sentences. Lenora took note.

As Preston droned on about the weather, Lenora studied Amelia and then tried to capture the lady’s attention by subtly wobbling her head.

Sure enough, before long, Amelia’s gray eyes darted from the vibrant sheen of Nettie’s feathers to the subtle amusement playing on Lenora’s face.

Lenora raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Amelia’s slight frown implied either confusion or disapproval, but as she resumed her practiced, middle-distant gaze, Lenora detected a tiny lift at the corner of her mouth.

She hadn’t acted like the regal, gracious matron she'd imagined herself becoming, but she had been fruitful, nonetheless. Fully thawing Lady Amelia became her new ambition.

Asquith and Sir Brenton returned, and Asquith distributed the bills. Lenora read the one he’d given to her and knew precisely how she was going to bring a smile to Amelia’s face.

“Shall we go in?” Lady Asquith asked.

Lenora mimicked Amelia’s nod. “If you please, Lady Amelia, I’d like to walk with you.”