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Not since she was a little girl had she seen such a spectacle in her home. In those days, Mama had enjoyed playing hostess. Now, twelve years later, her sister was taking on that role.
She looked at Amelia with mixed feelings. She still didn’t understand why her sister had arranged this hunt, but she was grateful for the apparent cease-fire between them. She didn’t trust it entirely, but it felt a lot better than their previous open warfare.
Hoping to maintain the truce, Victoria had dressed specifically to please her.
Amelia’s eyes had glowed with approval when their maid Hannah had taken out the peridot-gold brocade gown—a relic of fashion—to let the wrinkles out. Victoria knew it was far less flattering to her figure than more recent additions to her wardrobe, but it wouldn’t matter after tonight.
She’d also purposely instructed Hannah to find a fichu to help conceal the décolletage. After tomorrow, she’d never wear another fichu again for as long as she lived.
To complete the ensemble, she selected a long, braided necklace of seed pearls. Papa had presented her with them on her birthday last year. He always gave her pearls for her birthday. He’d done so every year since Mama had died.
After tomorrow, she’d never wear another pearl, either.
A servant informed them that Lords Withington and Cavendish had arrived and were being settled into their chambers.
“I shall go and oversee the final preparations for dinner,” said Amelia. “I expect there may be a few unanticipated additions tonight before all is said and done, and I wish there to be no embarrassments on either side.”
She paused before closing the door. “Victoria, everything we do over the next two days will be analyzed to within an inch of its life and discussed at length for months. Every word, every expression, every tiny detail will be picked apart. Do not be tempted to foolishness. We must not embarrass Papa, who has planned this grand affair for our benefit. We must both act in such a manner as to make him proud.”
Nodding meekly, Victoria bit her tongue, pushing her guilt into the darkest, dustiest corner of her mind.
Her excitement grew as the clock struck the dinner hour and guests began filtering into the room. Silks rustled and jewels glittered as everyone found their places. Papa opened the meal with an elegant toast to the king, and everyone gave a rousing “Hurrah!”
Dinner commenced.
Despite her sister’s obvious distrust, Victoria behaved with perfect propriety throughout the repast.
The meal passed without mishap, and Amelia announced that the library was open to the gentlemen for their pleasure, and that anyone interested was invited to join her in the music room.
As expected, Julius and Withington followed their hostesses rather than joining the male exodus. Pipes and political debate took a rear seat to courtship, naturally.
Amelia opened the evening’s entertainment by accompanying herself on the pianoforte.
“Wonderfully talented, don’t you think?” Victoria whispered to Withington as they watched. So rapt was his attention that he failed to answer her. She smiled at his vacant stare. It was becoming quite clear that his interest in her sister was more than a passing one.
Amelia finished her piece to polite applause and turned the floor over to their guests. When she joined their party, Victoria marked that she chose a seat on the other side of Withington rather than beside Julius.
“Isn’t Lady Thornhill a marvel?” asked Amelia as the woman plucked the strings of the harp.
“Oh, yes, of course,” answered Withington, though he was still staring at her. “Truly gifted. A tremendous voice.”
“She isn’t singing,” Victoria hissed softly, elbowing him.
“What?” He looked to Lady Thornhill, and his ears pinked. “Oh. Yes. Well. The harp sounds so heavenly that perhaps I mistook it for singing.”
Amelia’s cheeks grew suspiciously rosy.
The pair sat through the rest of the exhibition in silence until Lady Thornhill was finished. Immediately after applauding the performance, Withington stood and begged leave to fetch refreshment. As soon as he was safely away and her sister distracted by her duties as hostess, Victoria followed him.
“Methinks someone is becoming quite smitten,” she sang softly from behind him.
He nearly dropped the sherry he was holding. “Yes, well. Listen, Victoria, I need to talk to you about—”
Amelia suddenly appeared at her side. “You don’t think it’ll be too cold for the hunt tomorrow morning, do you, my lord?”
“What? Oh, y—I mean, no! No, of course not,” he stammered.
“Oh, good! I should so hate to disappoint our guests.”
