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Emma’s cheeks colored. “I’m terribly sorry, my lady. You were just so melancholy over the fossils that I didn’t want to feel as though I was pouring salt in an open wound.” As Calliope crossed her arms and stared at her, she added, “I’ve heard that Lord Blakely has been lending his opinions on what the town can do to improve their revenue with expansions. There are rumors that he plans to reach out to some fellow peers in London and garner some sponsors. It could be that Lyme Regis might be a more popular seaside retreat than Brighton someday.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Calliope murmured as she got to her feet and started to pace. “I do believe that it is time I bought a new gown, and I’ve heard the seamstress in town is quite accomplished. The timing of this soiree also gives me the perfect opportunity to spread some cheer of my own.”
Emma looked at her askance. “What are you planning, my lady?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She winked. “I’ve got it covered.”
Sebastian was fidgety.
No, that wasn’t right. It made him sound like a nervous school lad.
Fine. He was edgy.
He sighed. That didn’t sound any better. It still made him feel as though he should be in short pants standing in front of his former governess, waiting for her to mete out punishment for his latest misdeed. The only problem with that was he was a grown man, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not in the last two weeks, anyway.
Tonight might very well change all that. Thus, the reason for his anxiety.
He mumbled a curse beneath his breath and downed the latest glass of Madeira. He really didn’t need to lose his head when he was already feeling apprehensive about the night ahead.
“Lord Blakely.”
He turned to see Mary Anning at his side. At least, he thought it was her, but the gown she wore was not the usual rags that she was generally forced to don. The cornflower blue dress complimented her dark hair quite nicely. “You look lovely, Miss Anning.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She blushed in a charming manner and stepped aside to allow her mother to step forward.
Again, Sebastian was surprised, for Molly Anning wore a peach gown that made her appear much younger than those serviceable, brown gowns she wore. He couldn’t help but smile. She had always been kind to him, and while he didn’t know the reason for their sudden fortune, he was glad for it. “Mrs. Anning. You are a vision. Business must be good lately.”
“I certainly can’t complain,” she returned with an easy smile. “You have done much to put Lyme Regis on the map with something other than our shoreline. The villagers are grateful for that, which is why we wanted to honor your efforts on our behalf.”
He was uncomfortable with the praise being heaped upon him. “I was glad to help, but I’m confident that anyone might have done so.”
“I’m not,” she countered. “Not everyone has a kind heart.” She slid her gaze to a point beyond his shoulder. “However, I can attest that Lady Calliope is a blessing in her own right. She wanted to ensure that all the villagers were properly outfitted for this evening. She has kept our local seamstress, Mrs. Bastine, and nearly every lady in the town who is competent with a needle and thread quite busy these past several days.”
Joseph walked over to join his mother and sister, and Sebastian lifted a brow when he spied the tailored trousers that he was wearing. Although they were simply made, they fit his lanky frame to perfection.
As Sebastian glanced about the room, he finally took note of the rest of the assemblage. While he hadn’t thought much about it before now, he admitted that they were outfitted properly. Although not garbed as fancily as the ladies and gentlemen in London, it was a definite improvement over their usual serviceable clothes.
“When I have the opportunity to run an upholstery shop of my own someday, I think I shall wear this very jacket.” Joseph tugged down the cuffs with a broad grin.
Molly laid a hand on her son and daughter’s shoulders. “Let’s leave the viscount to greet the other guests,” she said, and departed with a secretive glance behind him.
Slowly, Sebastian turned.
Calliope was standing a short distance away and wore a tentative smile. His breath caught, because everything about her was absolute perfection. The light purple dress with its silver trim was simple by London standards, and yet she shone like a diamond among this modest gathering. That brilliant copper hair was piled on her head in an elegant chignon, leaving her graceful neck exposed. He yearned to kiss that soft expanse—among other places of her body.
His body tightened in response, eager to do just that.
Bloody hell. This was going to be one of the longest nights of his life.
He prayed he could make it through unscathed without making an utter fool of himself.
The sound of a cane thumping next to him caused Sebastian to turn and cast his grandfather a dry look. The marquess had refused the comfort of his wheeled chair, and instead, insisted that he hobble into the assembly rooms on his own. His excuse was that the waters were starting to ease his discomfort, but Sebastian wasn’t so sure about that.
“Lady Calliope is here.”
He spoke the obvious, as if Sebastian hadn’t already noticed. “Indeed.”
“Are you going to speak to her?”
