AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter1
London, April 1900
My plan to blend in with the wallflowers at the Bunburys’ ball failed before I’d even had the opportunity to greet our hostess. A row of elderly chaperones raised their lorgnettes as one and peered at me. They didn’t try to hide their scrutiny, but they did cover their mouths with their open fans so they could gossip without having their lips read. Whatever their opinion of me, I couldn’t tell. Nor did I care. I wasn’t here for their entertainment. I’d only come to the ball to appease my aunt and uncle who were using the occasion to officially launch me into London society. I owed them this much after they’d taken me in with open arms.
My cousin Floyd followed my gaze. “They look like crows, ready to swoop on the unsuspecting.”
His friend Jonathon, standing on my other side, leaned down to my level. His breath smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. “The only swooping they’ll do will be on the supper table later.”
He looked every bit the respectable gentleman tonight, dressed in a black tailcoat and crisp white shirt with his blond hair neatly combed back. But the indolent youth hadn’t completely disappeared. It was still evident in the heavily hooded eyes, the sneering tilt of his lips, and over-confident manner. He’d managed to secure the first two dances with me purely because he’d asked me in the presence of my aunt and uncle and they made it clear I should accept.
Lady Bunbury welcomed us with enthusiastic smiles and a warm greeting which onlookers would have believed was genuine, but our family knew was false. After learning of the Bunburys’ financial difficulty during my last investigation, Lady Bunbury had pointedly not invited us to her ball, the first and most important event on the social calendar. It was only after Aunt Lilian’s unspoken threat to expose the Bunburys’ predicament that she’d finally extended invitations, but not before Flossy had cried herself to sleep for several nights. My cousin had been convinced her life was over.
We exchanged the obligatory pleasantries before moving on to Lord Bunbury and finally further into the ballroom itself.
Flossy stopped abruptly and clasped my hand. “Look at this room, Cleo. Isn’t it heavenly?”
It was indeed marvelous. There was no sign of the Bunburys’ poverty. Guests were welcomed at the Mayfair townhouse’s front steps by dozens of lanterns illuminating the way, then invited up the sweeping staircase woven with garlands of leaves and white roses. More rose garlands hung above doorways and windows and filled enormous vases. Clearly the ball’s theme was white, signifying innocence, a virtue the debutantes who’d recently been presented at court were expected to possess.
Theunofficialtheme for the evening was wealth. The opulence was on display everywhere, from the diamond encrusted tiaras of the debutantes to the jewels adorning the throats and ears of their mothers and chaperones. It wasn’t just the wealth of the guests, but also of the Bunburys, although in their case it was all a façade. Lady Bunbury had sold her jewelry and had replicas made to look like the originals.
The Bunburys had everyone fooled. By holding the first ball of the season for many years, they’d set themselves up as the arbiters of style and ensured they remained popular. An invitation and their regard were both highly sought after. But this evening must be costing them a small fortune. It wasn’t just the decorations. There were a lot of staff, too; far more than the Bunburys employed on a permanent basis. There were footmen in abundance, and there must be several more staff in the kitchen preparing the refreshments.
Flossy touched my arm and directed my attention to a girl standing with a large group. “That’s Amelia Livingstone. They say she’ll be debutante of the year. I can see why. She’s very beautiful.”
“And beauty is the chief requirement,” I muttered.
“You’re so cynical, Cleo. It’s just as important to be amenable, accomplished in the gentle arts, and well-bred. Oh, and thin.” She sucked in her stomach. “If Lady Bunbury does crown her as debutante of the season, she’ll be engaged to be married before August.”
“It looks like the eligible bachelors are already circling.”
Miss Livingstone was surrounded by people, not just young men, but their mothers, too. She smiled sweetly at something one of the gentlemen was saying. Indeed, she’d been smiling the same way ever since I’d laid eyes on her. It never wavered. Not even when the others laughed at a joke. She continued to smile inanely. Either she wasn’t listening, or she had a different sense of humor to the others. Or none at all.
Flossy took my arm. “Come on, Cleo, let’s mingle.”
“I’ll stand over there, out of the way.”
Jonathon put out his hand to me. “You will not. You promised me two dances.”
The musical ensemble struck up a slow tune and I inwardly groaned. I’d prefer something jaunty if I had to spend a few minutes alone with Jonathon. The less intimate the better.
I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer, thankfully, as I was a poor one. He would have had lessons, whereas I’d been taught by my grandparents in their parlor. I had to concentrate, and that meant I didn’t notice him watching me until I finally looked up.
He smiled. “You scrub up well, Cleo.” The cheerful tone didn’t match the intensity in his eyes.
“Thank you. So do you.”
“It’s nice to see you out of black and gray.”
I’d set aside my mourning clothes which I’d been wearing since my grandmother’s death six months ago. To some, I’d shed the dark colors too soon, but younger women were often encouraged to come out of mourning earlier than their elders. My off-the-shoulder evening gown of white satin and ecru lace, woven with coral velvet ribbon through the bodice at the waist with velvet nasturtiums sewn onto the skirt in a cascade was the most elegant thing I’d ever worn, not to mention the most expensive. Another four ballgowns hung in my wardrobe back at the Mayfair Hotel, as well as new evening dresses and daytime outfits, all made by the best seamstresses in London. My uncle paid for them. I could never repay him, but I would dance with a few gentlemen of his choosing as a mark of my appreciation, beginning with Jonathon.
I didn’t dislike Floyd’s friend. He could be charming and amusing. But he was a little too full of himself, not to mention a wastrel. I didn’t want to encourage him. Once our two dances concluded, I made a show of rejoining my cousins, both of whom had danced the last dance with attractive partners. All three men immediately fell into conversation about a long-distance rally to Edinburgh and back, staged by the Automobile Club of Great Britain.
Flossy gossiped about the other girls with Floyd’s dance partner. None of it was unkind, but I didn’t know many of the people they spoke about, so I tuned out. I spotted Miss Hessing standing by the wall, a little apart from the group that included her mother. She had also tuned out of their conversation, and her gaze wandered the room. The wealthy American heiress was a guest at the Mayfair Hotel with her mother. She was here looking for an English husband who could rescue her from her horrid parent. Shy Miss Hessing was completely overwhelmed by her exuberant mother. I quite often asked her to join me for a game of cards when I spotted them in the foyer or at afternoon tea with Mrs. Hessing’s friends. She was very grateful for any respite.
I excused myself and headed her way, ready to rescue her again. But it wasn’t her mother she needed rescuing from. Three gentlemen walked past. One of them said something to his friends and they all laughed. Miss Hessing’s face fell and her eyes filled with tears. She dipped her head to hide them.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
