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‘Er, no. Not yet, but I hope to, if Godmama is so kind.’ Every conversation was fraught with traps. Cassandra was finding guarding her tongue every second very tiresome, even with someone as pleasant as Lucy.
‘I do think your Godmama splendid,’ Lucy said enthusiastically. ‘I am so looking forward to her party tomorrow evening.’ She paused, and added, not quite casually enough, ‘Is the Earl intending to be there?’
‘I presume so, I scarcely see him,’ Cassandra admitted truthfully. It was almost as if he were avoiding her. but that was silly. After all, he had his own life to lead, why should he concern himself with a debutante his mother happened to be launching into Society? Everything was different now and she was hardly the Cassie with whom he had shared those weeks on the road. By the time Godmama and Miss Fox had finished with her, she would be just another insipid young lady.
‘Oh,’ Lucy appeared disappointed. ‘I was looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with him. I knew him years ago,’ she added rather quickly.
‘He has been out a great deal meeting his friends since he arrived. And I believe he has been seeing his tailor.’ And, no doubt, attending the Opera and ballet and less reputable entertainments. Cassandra stifled the thought of opera dancers and actresses, and added, ‘And, of course, Godmama has been taking me about so much to visit and to the modiste. I hardly see Ni… the Earl.’
‘He is a very fine man, is he not?’ Lucy quite failed to sound uninterested. ‘So handsome, so well-dressed.’
‘And so eligible,’ Cassandra finished, rather drily. Thinking about Nicholas and actresses was doing nothing to improve her frayed nerves.
‘Indeed, yes.’ Miss Hartley’s blue eyes were sparkling. Cassandra looked at the piquant little face and the artlessly arranged ash blonde curls and wondered just how well Nicholas knew her. What was it like to be fragile and dainty and so beautiful it took men’s breath away? To be fair, she had to admit that Lucy seemed quite unaffected by her own loveliness, quite unconscious of the effect she produced.
Combined with her friendly charm and lively wit, Cassandra could quite understand why Lucy was the reigning beauty. And if Nicholas was a good catch, then so, too, was the well-connected, well-dowered Miss Hartley. Perhaps Godmama and Lady Hartley were even now planning to bring them together. It was a painful thought, but not quite as difficult to face as the thought of Nicholas allied with one of the silly peahens they had left behind in the glade just now.
‘Nicholas,’ His mother fixed him with a chilly eye as he strolled into the dining room the next evening. ‘Where do you think you are going in those clothes?’
Clearly startled, he glanced down at his irreproachably tailored trousers and evening coat and replied simply, ‘Out. Why?’
There was a slight pause while he took his seat and the soup was served. Across the polished expanse of walnut, Cassandra caught her godmother’s eye and raised her own brows in response.
‘You cannot have forgotten that tonight is the party I am giving for Cassandra. Why are you not wearing knee breeches?’
Nicholas put down his spoon. ‘Oh, lord, I had forgotten. I’m engaged to play cards with Morton this evening.’
‘Send a note and you can go on later.’ His mother was crisp. ‘I want you here to greet our guests. It is very important that you are here to lend Cassandra your support at her first soirée.’
‘I’m sorry, Cass,’ he began. ‘Of course, I’ll be there.’
‘Do not call her Cass!’ his mother wailed despairingly. ‘How will I ever get her launched successfully if you don’t watch your tongue?’
Cassandra and Nicholas ate lamb cutlets in attentive silence, while Lady Lydford rehe
arsed the guest list. It appeared to her goddaughter that the guests had been chosen with two purposes in mind: to launch her, certainly, but also to introduce Nicholas to as many eligible young women as possible. And, of course, he already knew Miss Lucy Hartley.
At the end of the meal, Nicholas vanished to change into satin knee breeches and evening coat. Cassandra, too, went up to her room for her abigail to tidy her hair and adjust her dress.
Godmama had decreed that a cream voile was entirely suitable for a first party gown. Looking in the long pier glass Cassandra had to agree it made the most of her rather unconventional looks.
With her chestnut hair and brows debutante white would have looked insipid, while the modestly scooped neck and high waist made the most of her height and slight figure.
In the hands of a skilful hairdresser Cassandra’s boyish curls had been transformed into a modish crop set off by a simple tiara and Godmama had presented her with a pair of simple pearl drop earrings.
‘My dear, you look simply charming,’ Godmama said from the doorway. In her hands she was carrying a pair of kid evening gloves. ‘Here you are, Cassandra, let me help you with these.’
Cassandra smoothed on her first pair of grown-up evening gloves with a shiver of almost sensual pleasure at the smoothness of the fine leather. Then the pleasure turned to apprehension at the daunting thought of being the centre of attention at her first real party.
‘Don’t worry, Cassandra.’ Godmama tipped up her chin gently and looked into her eyes. ‘I’ll be there, and so will Nicholas.’ She made no comment at the sudden flush that tinged Cassandra’s cheeks and added, ‘I know this week has been a difficult one for you, but you are quite ready to go into Society now. Forget your worries and enjoy tonight.’
An hour later, Cassandra realised, to her own amazement, that she was having fun. She had bobbed curtseys to all the formidable chaperones and heard many of them complimenting her to her godmother. Their charges were all girls she had already met, and suddenly small talk and chatter came easily.
It was exciting to meet so many pleasant young men, and flattering to observe their open admiration as they competed to fill her dance card. Lady Lydford had engaged a string quartet to play country dances and had invited enough young people to make up twenty couples, but as she had said to Cassandra, ‘No waltzes, we will save those for your ball.’
Godmama had opened up the Large Salon for the dancing, and arranged for card tables in the library for the older guests. As the dowagers soon became engrossed in their whist, the younger party were able to enjoy themselves without the close supervision of their elders.
Even so, Cassandra knew she must not dance more than two dances with any one gentleman, and was laughingly resisting the blandishments of Christopher Hartley to join him in just one more set, when Nicholas strode over.
