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“An invitation to Lord Turley’s ball.”
Lord Turley had been one of the most eligible bachelors in London this season. Lady Radcliffe would have desired him for Cassandra… had he not already been swooped up by Alfred Pembroke’s younger sister, Juliana.
I sighed. Of course, the Radcliffe’s would be invited to such an event. The question was: wouldIbe attending?
As a poor, untitled orphan, sometimes it was advantageous for Lady Radcliffe to bring me to parties… it made her look charitable. In other cases, I was simply unwanted.
“Alfred told me of this ball last week. It’s to celebrate his sister’s engagement to Lord Turley.”
“Indeed.” Lady Radcliffe nodded; her eyes shrewd. “You will have plenty of time to spend with Alfred at the ball, I imagine. Perhaps he will even extend an offer of engagement. It would be a fitting event for it.”
Cassandra looked as if she had just tasted rotten milk.
“Juliana Pembroke was out two seasons before Lord Turley asked to marry her, grandmama! And she goes toallof the balls. Why can’t I go to any?”
Lady Radcliffe narrowed her eyes in annoyance.
“I think highly of the Pembroke name, you know. I would not support your acquaintance with Alfred Pembroke otherwise. But Miss Juliana’s manners leave much to be desired. Indeed, she should have been married off her first season to the first suitor that would take her. A girl like that should not be allowed to run amuck the way that she has. I am pleased that her father has finally secured her marriage.”
There were the faintest rumors of Juliana Pembroke’s misbehavior in London society, but they were just whispers. Had they been more concrete, Lady Radcliffe certainly would not have let Cassandra be courted by her older brother.
“But she’s quite beautiful, grandmama, and-”
“Beauty is far less important than decorum.” Lady Radcliffe interrupted her granddaughter. “You should remember that, Cassandra.”
The old woman sniffed with distaste, taking tiny bites of toast. She picked up another letter, her expression turning sour.
“Miss Allen, you have a letter. How strange.”
Lady Radcliffe’s tone stung, but I couldn’t help but be surprised as well. I rarely received any correspondence by post. There was only one person I could imagine writing me –
“A Louisa Allen, from… Gracechurch Street. Oh ho.” Lady Radcliffe scrunched up her face in disgust at the sound of the street name.
A most unfashionable street name indeed.
“Ah, that’s your relation, is it not?” Cassandra said, smiling over at me.
She knew how much I liked my cousin, Louisa Allen.
“Indeed.” I said, eager for the letter.
Lady Radcliffe raised her eyebrows.
“Yourrelation?Well, why don’ttheytake you in?”
“Grandmama!” Cassandra cried at her grandmother’s rude words.
I grimaced. I knew that Cassandra’s insistence was the only reason Lady Radcliffe kept me around.
“Well, I suppose they couldn’t afford it. Living on Gracechurch Street…” The older woman simpered, looking disgusted.
And, indeed, she was right. My cousins were merchant people. While they were congenial and lovely to be around, I could never have asked them to support me – I knew they couldn’t afford to take on a poor, distant relation.
I tore open the letter, excitement bubbling up inside me. I had written Louisa when I had first arrived in London two months ago, but she had been in the countryside visiting her mother’s family. I was eager to see her.
The letter was written on a sturdy sheet of white paper. Louisa’s handwriting, clear and fastidious, brought me warmth.
My dearest cousin Amelia,
