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His father might not have approved of his pursuit of a servant in their household, but Nora herself—he rather thought his father might have liked her as well as his mother seemed to.
He took a moment to consider the thought, and the feeling of warmth that accompanied it, then went to find his mother. He would need to be sure his guest choices would meet with her approval and to obtain the names of any other guests she might wish to invite. Knowing his mother, she had a list of appropriate social matriarchs, lords, and younger ladies that would encompass at least two known gossips and the entire social structure of thetonat one table.
Perhaps between the two of them, they could arrange a guest list that would provide a proper introduction for Nora without being overwhelming.
He found himself smiling in anticipation as he went, more excited for the dinner than he had been for any formal events in quite some time.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The guests were set to begin arriving at any moment, and Nora was nowhere to be seen. Nor was his mother.
Arthur set his jaw against a rising sense of irritation. He shoved both hands into his pockets to stifle the urge to tug at his cravat or do something else equally undignified. It was no doubt taking time to get ready, especially since Nora was likely to be unaccustomed to dressing for such an event. She could hardly be expected to know much of formal evening wear, much less the accouterments a young lady who was betrothed to a duke would be expected to wear.
At least he knew she was in the house. He had seen the carriage go out and return and familiar dark hair entering the estate from the window he’d been standing at. But he’d had no chance to speak to her, no chance to even offer a greeting before she was whisked away by his mother and two lady’s maids.
And since then, he’d not managed a glimpse of her, and he was near beside himself with impatience.
He had sent his valet to inquire as to the color of her gown so that he might match her and been informed that it was blue, but that was all he knew.
The sound of a door from the direction of his mother’s apartments yanked him from his thoughts. He turned on his heel, suddenly every bit as nervous as he had been irritable moments before. He smoothed a hand through his hair and patted his cravat before straightening his shoulders and preparing to greet his prospective bride.
His words died on his tongue at the first sight of Nora, dressed in a gown of pale blue. The bodice was fitted to show off her bosom and trim waist before falling softly in a flowing skirt. A simple silver bracelet adorned one wrist, and a silver necklace with a small teardrop sapphire accented the pale, graceful column of her throat.
He thought he recognized the necklace was one of his mother’s, but he wasn’t sure, and he doubted even the most fashion-conscious member of the ton could have been sure of its ownership.
He swallowed to moisten his dry mouth, then inclined his head and held out his hand. “My lady.”
* * *
The dress was glorious, a wonderful creation of silk that flowed around her like water. Nora was grateful to Abigail both for it and for the accompanying finery the Dowager offered her to help complete the outfit. The necklace, in particular, was beautiful and reminded her somewhat of one she had been forced to pawn during her early weeks in the city before she had found employment.
She had half-feared that the lady’s maid who helped her dress and put up her hair would resent her, given that they’d both been of the same station only a scant few days ago. However, Jenny was nothing but professional as she assisted Nora with the underpinnings, then the dress, and her hair. She even offered a small smile as they put the finishing touches on the powder dusting her cheeks. “You look wonderful, miss.”
She did. The woman in the mirror was one that Nora hadn’t seen in four years, but with a maturity and bearing that her younger self had never had. She looked like a lady.
Seeing herself in the mirror, she felt the habits and manners of her childhood settling around her shoulders like an invisible cloak, offering an unseen assurance. She took a deep breath and followed Abigail to the stairs, where Arthur was waiting.
It was clear he’d been waiting somewhat impatiently. It was equally apparent that he was pleased by her appearance from the stunned expression that graced his face before he recovered his composure and offered her a bow. “My lady.”
Her discussion with Scarlett was in the front of her mind as she replied, and the assurance of a lifetime of training allowed her to smile at him with genuine affection rather than the wary shyness she might have otherwise offered. “Your Grace.”
She set her hand on his arm in an appropriate fashion and thought she caught a flicker of surprised and pleased approval before he turned and escorted her down the stairs.
* * *
He had expected her normal reserve, and his heart threatened to skip a beat when she gifted him with a radiant smile before dipping into a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace.” She rose and laid one delicate hand on his arm in the proper fashion, quite as if she had been in etiquette training since she was a girl.
Together, they descended the stairs and arranged themselves on either side of the entry, his mother standing as hostess with himself and Nora next to greet the guests. It was an elegant system to ensure that Nora would see the proper way to greet each of their guests.
The first to arrive were Baron and Baroness Copefield. He was prepared to guide Nora through the appropriate greeting, but she was clearly paying far closer attention to his mother than she appeared to be, for she copied his mother’s greeting perfectly, complete with a welcoming smile and a gracious nod.
The next to arrive was, surprisingly, Annabelle. He wondered if there might be some tension or unpleasantness between the two women, but Annabelle only smiled. “You look well.”
“Thank you.” Nora returned the smile and a slight dip that was not quite a curtsy, but held no ill-will.
Slowly, the rest of the guests filed in. The Earl of Ablemarle and his wife, Count and Countess Grabel—who were contemporaries of his mother—and of course Samuel, Ralph, and David, as well as the two young women who would be dinner partners for Samuel and Ralph. It was a relatively small gathering, but not an insignificant one.
And with each guest, Nora was perfectly poised and perfectly polite. Had he not known she’d been serving as his mother’s maid a few scant days ago, he would have sworn she had been a member of Society all her life.
