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“My husband is out just now, and there is no one else here in town. There is a married daughter in Yorkshire and two other daughters at home in Hertfordshire.”
“One is to marry the younger Plummer boy,” Mrs Iverson said, then smiled at the surprise on their faces. “Lady Plummer is a very old friend of mine, so I hear all the news from Hertfordshire. She does not approve, but it sounds like a good match, to me. I am grateful that all my daughters are married now. Such a worry, finding good husbands, and they do like to make their own choice these days. Now my sons — I cannot seem to get rid ofthemat all.” She laughed heartily. “But there, perhaps one of your lovely girls will do the trick, who knows.” Her gaze rested on Rose again.
After fifteen minutes, she rose, and pulling open her reticule, drew forth a square of card. “Mrs Fletcher, I am holding a small party this evening… nothing formal, just cards, a little music, a little dancing. Perhaps you and your daughters will like to join us, if you have no other engagements? And Mr William Fletcher, also, and your husband, if he would care for it.”
“My husband does not go into society a great deal, Mrs Iverson, but the girls and I would be delighted to attend. We have no other engagements. Will, are you free tonight?”
“I am, and it would be my pleasure to accompany you.”
“Excellent,” Mrs Iverson said. “But be sure you come prepared to dance, young man. There are always too many ladies at these occasions, do you not find, Mrs Fletcher? Well, I shall see you again this evening.”
Stepmother rang the bell, and Keeble appeared so quickly that it was obvious he had been lurking outside the door. Mrs Iverson made her stately way out of the room, and the door closed behind her.
“What was that about?” Angie said. “She has ignored us for three weeks, and now here she is, as friendly as pie, with an invitation in her pocket.”
“If Lady Plummer is a close friend, she may not wish to be too hasty in making our acquaintance,” Stepmother said, frowning. “The most distinguished families are reluctant to admit outsiders.”
“So why come here at all?” Angie said. “Why invite us to her party? Unless it is like Lady Carrbridge’s party, aimed at people in trade.”
“We arenotin trade,” Stepmother said sharply. “Never forget that, Angie. We shall go, of course, and make what we can of it, but I am not at all sure how to understand this unexpected attention. Will, what do you make of it?”
Will laughed. “I rather think that Rosie’s unknown admirer has found a way to meet her.”
8: An Informal Evening Party
Another evening, another party. This was not likely to be one of the grandest of the season’s entertainments, but the novelty had not yet worn off for Eloise. She donned another of her splendid new evening gowns, not a ball gown but suitable for dancing if it should happen, and allowed Connie to add some delicately beautiful jewellery, of which she had an inexhaustible supply.
“Lord Carrbridge is very generous to give you so much,” Eloise said, admiring the shimmer of tiny diamonds and sapphires. “He has excellent taste.”
“He is certainly generous, but he has not the least idea of jewellery,” Connie said. “He gave me a free hand with the family jewels, and I have had many of them reset. You should have seen them before — monstrous ugly things. I could never have worn them. There, you look lovely, my dear.”
The carriage conveyed Eloise, the marchioness and Lord and Lady Reggie to Grosvenor Square, to join the long line waiting their turn to deposit their passengers. The Iversons’ house was lit up as bright as day, the street alive with grooms and link boys and crowds watching the spectacle.
As they waited in the queue, Connie and Lady Reggie chatted easily about their children’s maladies, for there always seemed to be something or other amiss with them, while Eloise pondered the coming evening. In Bath, there were regular balls at the assembly rooms, but Aunt Beth could not afford the subscriptions, so their evening entertainment consisted of sedate card parties, musical recitals or the theatre. There were so few opportunities to dance, and now she had a whole evening to do so, and tomorrow there would be another, and another after that. It was delightful. She sighed with pleasure.
It was a pity that the first person she saw as they walked into the Iversons’ drawing room was Mr William Fletcher, lounging against a pillar. His face at once lit up in amusement, and he sauntered across the room to her.
“Miss Whittleton.” He sketched an elegant bow. “How delightful you look this evening.”
Eloise looked around for Connie orsomeonewho might offer an escape route, but everyone was busy greeting acquaintances. Before she could organize her thoughts, he spoke the words she dreaded.
“There is to be dancing this evening, I understand. If you are not already engaged, may I solicit your hand for the first two?”
“No, you may not!” she spat, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.
For an instant, the insouciance was wiped from his face. At least that had showed him! Without another word, he bowed and walked away, and she was left to curse her own stupidity. Now that she had turned down one partner, she could not dance at all. Would it be so dreadful to stand up with him for half an hour? It would be far worse to spend the entire evening sitting with the matrons and disregarded spinsters.
He had not gone far, merely back to the pillar he had left only moments before. He was watching her, his unwavering gaze a trifle unnerving. But if she was to have any pleasure in the evening, she must grasp the nettle, no matter how it might sting.
Lifting her chin, she walked steadily across to where he stood. He straightened a little, watching her with what seemed to be polite interest.
“Mr Fletcher, you caught me at a bad moment just now. I owe you an apology.”
“There is no need, Miss Whittleton, I assure you, for I am not in the least offended. You made your feelings perfectly plain, and I shall not tease you by asking you to stand up with me.”
“Oh.” She must have looked crestfallen, for he smiled, the warm smile she distrusted to her very bones, and yet it was such a charming smile. The man had an indecent amount of charm.
“Ah, I see. You think that you cannot now dance with anyone else, is that it?”
