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She squeezed her father’s hand. “Thank you, Papa.”
Her aunt and uncle slowly descended the stairs ahead of them. Entering the ballroom, she had never felt more beautiful, in a light green gown complete with an embroidered gold sash.
Musicians played upon their instruments. Four and twenty couples formed two lines and danced in formation, jumping lightly on the balls of their feet. Hushed conversations took place in small groups of four and five.
There were officers in crisp red coats with gold braiding, gentlemen in dark-colored tailcoats, and women in light-colored gowns. Atop many of the women’s heads, fashionable feathers represented every shade imaginable.
Helen was especially grateful Aunt Sarah abhorred that particular trend. Instead, two sets of ringlets framed her heart-shaped face, with the remainder of her hair wound in a stylish braided hairstyle.
Their party of four settled in the corner of the room. Aunt Sarah removed a white feathered fan from her reticule. “It is always so stuffy when there are so many people in a room.”
“This is the grandest ball I have ever attended.” Helen’s eyes searched the room, which was not yet full. “I thought the Woodrow family invited several hundred guests.”
“We are unfashionably early, my dear. Mr. Marcellus will find you when he arrives. Of that, I have no doubt.” Her father chuckled. “Until then, best you enjoy the ball.”
Aunt Sarah huddled closer to her. In a hushed tone, she said, “I wanted us here early so you would know friend versus foe. Over there with the blue peon feather is Lady Ringwald. She is like Lady Woodrow in that she has a knack for fishing for information from a person. Be mindful of how you answer her questions. To her left in the orange is Lady Johnson. Her husband is a member of the House of Lords with William.”
Helen’s mind attempted to keep up with the steady stream of names and faces that Aunt Sarah mentioned to her. She must have been made aware of at least fifty at last count.
“Are there any other ladies we may consider as friendly?” Helen removed her own fan and covered her mouth.
“Mrs. Smyth in the muted yellow gown, to the left of the orchestra, will ensure you make the acquaintances of all the right people. A few select introductions shall carry you far. My Thomas is married to Mrs. Smyth’s second-eldest daughter.”
A gentleman with bright red hair and a royal-blue tailcoat approached. He bowed. “Lord Greenly, I do not believe I’ve made the acquaintance of this remarkable creature you’ve brought with you this evening. Will you be so kind as to introduce us?”
Is he speaking of me?
Helen sucked in air.
She was never one of the chosen few who received a gentleman’s attention. The gentlemen always sought out those who were making their entry into society. Not those sitting on the shelf, like her.
“Mr. Palmer, I trust your father is well. This is my niece, Miss Davenport, and her excellent father, Mr. Davenport,” Uncle William said.
“Mr. Davenport. Miss Davenport,” Mr. Palmer greeted them both. “If your dance card is not yet full, may I reserve two sets with you this evening?”
Helen fanned herself. Her body grew heated. “You may.”
“May I be bold enough to ask if you have already been claimed for the opening set?”
“I have not.”
Mr. Palmer clapped his hands together. “Capital. I’ll come and collect you when it is
our time. If you would please excuse me.
Helen watched Mr. Palmer’s retreating form. “And here I thought I’d only be dancing two sets this evening.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Helen, you are the guest of an earl.” Aunt Sarah returned the fan to her reticule. “By the evening’s end, your poor feet shall be unable to fit in your shoes due to all the dancing. We might even require a strong footman to carry you to the carriage.”
Helen tilted her head to the side. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
Uncle William chuckled. “My wife is never wrong.”
Society was so strange. Having just one connection to signal to others she was worthy of their acquaintance had changed her fortunes.
In the span of a week in London, she had gone from hopeless to being courted by Mr. Marcellus. In her combined previous seasons, she’d relegated herself to watching the jovial dancing from afar. Few suitors had interest in a woman with a dowry of only five thousand pounds when there were heiresses with ten, fifteen, and even twenty thousand available.
By the time the gentlemen seeking a wife turned their heads towards whomever was still “on the market,” Papa would usually be low on funds. They would have to close up their rented accommodations early and return to Winterbrook. The sad truth was that the older she grew, the less inclined a gentleman was to make an offer to her. They never want the “leftovers.”
