“Yes, yes, of course.” Bertram looked apologetic but he continued to stare at the toque with a concentrated frown while the rest of the party clearly forced themselves to chatter as they might before they were off to any diverting entertainment.
Thea simply sat on her chair, all pleasure at the possibilities the evening had previously held completely sucked from her, wondering how she could possibly contrive to develop some life-threatening ailment in the next two minutes. Anything would be better than having to actually appear in public wearing so painfully the advertisement of her leg-shacklement to her hateful aunt. Tears threatened, so when Fanny asked kindly, “Have you danced much in the past, Thea?” she could only shake her head.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Antoinette broke in. “Some of the young men who ask you will have two left feet, anyway.”
Bertram, continued to frown, his gaze still riveted on Thea’s ensemble. Gravely, he said, “I’ll dance with you if no one else asks.”
“Bertram!” Fanny rounded on him. “Cousin Thea will be swamped with offers.”
Thea could see that her lively, inventive, enthusiastic cousins didn’t know what else to say. Her shoulders slumped even more and she felt her Aunt’s gown about her as if it were a living thing, sucking the life out of her. “That’s very kind of you, Cousin Bertram.”
Lord Fenton rose. “Shall we go?”
Thea sent a longing look at the door that led towards the passage that wound ultimately past her bedchamber. Perhaps if she clutched her stomach and claimed a sudden bilious attack, she could contrive to stay at home. She didn’t care if that was what Aunt Minerva intended—for clearly her aunt intended either that or an evening of total humiliation.
“Oh good Lord!”
Thea clutched her belly in preparation for her charade but not before Cousin Bertram’s expletive literally rained down on her, together with a good quantity of the contents of his generous glass of Madeira.
“Oh Cousin Thea, how clumsy of me!” he exclaimed, brandishing a snowy handkerchief and dabbing at the sticky wine that was all down the front of her dress, scarring the velvet and pooling onto the floor.
“Gracious, such a lovely dress! Ruined!” Fanny cried, rushing forward and attempting to help Bertram mop up the mess, yet managing to smear the damage to an even greater extent. “Can it be saved?”
“Of course it can’t. Well, not in time for this evening, at any rate.” Lord Fenton remained calmly in the doorway where he’d stopped, turning to watch the fuss. “Fanny, please go upstairs and find Cousin Thea something suitable of yours so we don’t hold up the party. My apologies, Miss Brightwell, for keeping you waiting.” He turned from where Aunt Minerva was staring at the scene with an expression of horrified outrage while Thea felt her dismay blossom into hope and happiness.
With an almost indiscernible wink, Lord Fenton was indicating the doorway through which Thea had almost condemned herself to a lonely, miserable night on account of Aunt Minerva’s poisoned chalice, or rather her gift of a dress, before darling Cousin Bertram had hit upon salvation.
Upstairs, already laid out upon her bed, Thea found a gloriously simple but elegant white muslin gown together with all the necessary accessories: long satin gloves, pearl-encrusted hair combs and a thin gold chain to wear around her neck. It did not take Thea long to dress.
“Oh Cousin Fanny, thank you! How clever of you to think of such a reprieve and to plan it all with Cousin Bertram. I don’t know what to say!”
“We’ll have to credit Bertram with a rare moment of genius, for he came up with that all on his own.” Fanny finished doing up the tiny pearl buttons on the back of Thea’s dress then stepped in front of her with a smile. “Now, are you ready?”
Thea took her cousin’s arm with a grateful smile. “I’m ready.”
“And are you nervous?”
“I’ve never been more so.” Thea gazed at her cousin with a mixture of trepidation and hope. Cousin Fanny looked utterly ravishing yet once Thea had thought her merely lovely. Now Fanny had been imbued with the gloss of happiness and riches since her astonishing marriage. And Fanny claimed the same could happen for Thea. Could it? She barely dared hope, yet the truth was, all she wanted was a husband who would love her, and enough money to feed a large family.
“A touch of nervousness isn’t the end of the world. You look utterly charming.” Fanny sent Thea a satisfied look as she led her down the stairs. “Just remember,” she added over her shoulder, “Antoinette and I want only your happiness. If you do everything we tell you, I believe you have every reason to hope you’ll not die a dried-up old spinster having sacrificed your youth and happiness to Aunt Minerva.”
Her words reverberated in Thea’s head all the way down the remaining steps, clanging with greater force as she faced the patent disapproval of Aunt Minerva in the lobby, the only one of the company who did not compliment her when she was suddenly feeling like a princess.
Could it really be true that Aunt Minerva wanted to keep Thea unmarried for her own convenience?
Thea shuddered at an image of her venerable relative’s misshapen ankles and none too sweet-smelling feet.
Taking Cousin Bertram’s arm she smiled up at him, determined not to let a crotchety old woman spoil what now promised to be a thrilling evening.
“Cousin Thea, you are a vision,” he murmured, and Thea tingled all over with happiness.
Right now it seemed no risk was too great if it meant not having to massage Aunt Minerva’s corns and bu
nions until the end of time.
Chapter 3
THE music and gaiety as they entered the Assembly Rooms hit Thea in the face like a draught of fear and trepidation, mixed with the promise of so much. Now her stomach really did clench. She felt sick and lightheaded.