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Chapter 3
“Are you attending the tea party at Lady Mornington’s home?” Sarah asked.
Mary grinned excitedly.
“Indeed, I am. She has the loveliest gardens. Lady Rachel had debated whether or not it prudent, given her cousin’s acquaintance with the nephew of Mr. Verwin and all that,” she answered.
“But there is talk that Lady Boyce will be there and her son is soon to return from abroad. Lady Rachel wants Charlotte around Lady Boyce and that is all that mattered in making the decision.”
Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “The politics of it all is utter nonsense. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to attending. I think it shall be a grand affair.”
“Yes, it shall. We may walk in the gardens together and enjoy all the beauty there. Charlotte has very little care for flowers so it may be a nice opportunity to break away from my stepmother’s notice while we are there,” Mary said. Inwardly, she hoped that Lady Rachel would not order Mary to stay close by so as not to outshine Charlotte in conversation.
“Very well, I shall see you then. What about the summer picnic that Mr. Williams is hosting? Oh, I do hope that our social diaries line up as often as possible,” Sarah continued.
Mary shook her head, sadly, at that.
“I fear not. Lady Rachel says we may not attend because Mr. Williams is not of a noble rank,” she answered.
Sarah winced, and Mary knew that it must be painful for her; her friend was not of noble birth either, and Lady Rachel had been so insistent that Mary and Charlotte engage primarily with those of a similar station. But Mary could never let go of her friendship with Sarah. Not for any reason.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed that she and Sarah were being approached. Mary turned to see two gentlemen coming to greet them and she instantly blushed, not having anticipated the sudden visit.
“Good evening, ladies,” said the first.
“Good evening,” Mary and Sarah echoed, curtsying demurely as expected.
“Crispin, this is Miss Sarah Lambton, from the wonderful family I told you about. Miss Lambton, this is my cousin, Lord Crispin Dunaway, the Duke of Hanbrooke. I am sure I have spoken of him before,” the first man said.
Mary took note of the Duke. He was extremely handsome, with hair the colour of night and eyes that could be described as icy blue, were it not for the warmth that she noted in them. She smiled and tried not to stare up at him.
“It is very nice to meet you, Your Grace,” Sarah replied. She gestured between Mary and the gentlemen. “And Mary, this is Lord Harry Brown, the Baron of Woodhall. Harry, this is my friend, Lady Mary Goldfield.”
“Goldfield? You are the daughter of Lord Comstead?” Harry asked.
“Indeed, she is. You are acquainted with him?” Mary asked.
“Our paths have crossed now and again, but we do not know one another well. He seems to be quite a good man. Is he here this evening? I should like to say hello,” Harry said.
“I fear not. He rarely comes to balls and events such as these. He is quite busy,” Mary replied, maintaining her smile.
“Ah, yes, of course. Men such as him are in very high demand for their social calendars,” Harry replied with a laugh.
Mary laughed politely, not wishing to remark that he simply had no desire to go out and about at balls with his wife, daughter, and stepdaughter.
She noticed that Harry was looking at his cousin—the handsome gentleman—with urgency. Lord Hanbrooke shifted awkwardly with an uncomfortable smile on his dashing face, but he seemed to be trying to make an effort to communicate and looked between the women before speaking.
“Miss Lambton…Harry tells me you come from a wonderful family,” he said.
It was an observation that anyone might make and was not of a quality to engender conversation, but Mary stopped herself from teasing him about the simplicity of the remark.
“Well, thank you. That is all too kind,” Sarah said graciously.
“Yes, indeed,” Harry said, quickly, trying to move things along. “And now, to the real reason we have come over. I thought that we might convince the two of you to indulge us for a little while.”
“How so?” Sarah asked.
“Simple! We are at a ball, after all. We came to enquire as to whether or not the two of you had an empty space on your dance cards. Am I wrong to have hope? After all, surely there have been many men who have come to ask,” Harry said, grinning in a charming way at Sarah.
