“Thank you,” Isolde said with a faint blush. “What a relief.” She turned to Verity. “I did try to implement your ideas about the décor, but Mama—” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, dear, she has spotted me. I’d best go mingle or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Once Isolde was gone, Verity blew her droopy, golden-brown curls from her brow. “It’s so hot in here.” Verity snatched Diana’s fan and started fluttering it over her unfreckled bosom.
Diana shook her head. “I warned you not to wear velvet in spring. This time of year, the weather is highly unpredictable.”
“But I like velvet.”
“I like parents who aren’t engaged in a public war, but we don’t always get to have what we like.” Diana stared straight ahead, ignoring the matron who passed by while giving them the cut direct.
Her sister’s brow darkened. “All the same, I’m determined to do as I please now that I’m rid of Lord Minton. He hated velvet, so I never wore it. I won’t do that for a man ever again. Look what it got me! I’ll wear what I like and to the devil with it.”
“And you shouldn’t curse either.”
“I’ll curse if I please. You should do a bit more cursing. Trust me, it is wonderfully freeing.” Verity sneezed, then pointed Diana’s fan at the massive arrangements of lilies, wisteria, and roses set at intervals of three yards apart. “Isolde’s mother got to do and have what she pleased. Why can’t I? Honestly, who would cobble those three flowers together? The scents are overpowering.”
“Perhaps she was hoping to counteract the slightly off smell of the salmon cakes.”
“You didn’t eat any, did you?” Verity asked in alarm. “One sniff and I left them alone.”
“I went nowhere near them. I confess I was disappointed in the biscuits, too. They were cloyingly sweet. Although the almond ones weren’t bad. Isolde told me she’d chosen those personally because they were her favorite.”
“Don’t tell Isolde, but aside from her almond biscuits, I found most of the dishes lacking. The roast partridges were too dry, the crab patties too wet, and despite its pretty mold of a basket of fruit, the blancmange had a garlicky flavor. I shudder to think what ingredient was in it.”
“Garlic, perhaps?” Diana quipped. “Trust me, Isolde tried to counsel her mother on everything involving this ball, but the woman wouldn’t listen. Poor Isolde, to have such a mother.”
“Not poor Isolde.” Verity shook her head. “She lets it happen. She should stand up to the woman.”
“The way we stand up to our father?”
“That’s different. He’s a man.”
“True.” A man they were utterly dependent on. Diana loved Papa, but sometimes he was so autocratic she wanted to scream. Still, she didn’t dare. He could turn life in the house into constant misery if he was trying to make a point, namely that his way was best.
He was making that point now by pursuing a divorce. He’d tried shaming Mama into coming back, but she had known what half the ton did—that Papa hadn’t been the marrying kind even after he’d wed her. Meanwhile, some said one of Mama’s early amours had given Diana her brown eyes, dreadful red hair, and freckles. She was the only one with that coloring in her family.
Still, the rumor had to be false. She hoped it was false anyway. If it were true, Papa had never given a hint of it. His harsh words fell equally on all of them. And Mama had certainly never said a word about it. Sometimes Diana wondered, though....
Verity stared out over the dance floor. “I’m just saying that Isolde should trust her own opinions more. The woman is smart and beautiful and has exquisite taste in clothing when she’s not listening to her mother. If her mother wasn’t always trying to steer her wrong—and Isolde wasn’t always giving in—I daresay she’d be married by now.”
Eliza joined them. “I agree. Dear Isolde would be a treasure for any man.”
“You’re not just saying that because she heeded your advice on the subject of hair, are you?” Verity asked.
“No, indeed.” Eliza smiled. “I truly enjoyed helping her with her coiffure. And I am pleased she chose my idea for the ribbon arrangement over a turban. She’s far too young to be wearing a turban to a ball.” The music started again, even louder than before. Eliza gestured to them to join her outside on the balcony.
“Oh, that is so much better,” Diana said as they moved to the far end of the balcony from the door. “I swear, my ears were bleeding.”
Eliza nodded. “Anyone who hires a twenty-piece orchestra to play music for dancing when three players would do shouldn’t be allowed to throw a ball.” She sighed. “Isolde deserves better. Mrs. Crowder is a perfect example of the rule that just because you can have something doesn’t mean you should.”
“Mama is another example of that, I’m afraid,” Verity said. “Why couldn’t she simply wait until we were all married before running off with the major-general and forcing Papa’s hand?”
“I’m sure she’d say she was in love,” Diana said. “Although I suspect it was as much because he was a handsome widower and she feared somebody else would snatch him up before she could.”
Someone cleared her throat. Startled, they turned to find that the eavesdropping lady had followed them outside. “I know it’s not proper etiquette,” she said in an accent that Diana couldn’t quite place, “but I should like to introduce myself. I’m the Earl of Sinclair’s new wife. I gather that you three are Lady Holtbury’s daughters?”
Although wary of the woman’s reason for asking, Diana made the introductions.
“I’m so pleased to meet you all,” the countess said, flashing them a genuine smile. “I assure you, not everyone is against you. I personally think it a shame you should be tarred with the same brush as your mother. In any case, I couldn’t help overhearing your assessment of this affair and I should like to know how you would have improved upon it.” She winked at Eliza. “Other than hiring fewer musicians, that is.”