Chapter 10
Mary
The Farthingale’s ball was a mad crush, and Mary was its belle.
The unsettling experience was made only slightly easier by the gown she had allowed her Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella to choose for her. Shimmering blue material dipped low over her breasts, and the puff sleeves sat like little clouds on her arms as the swishing silk of the skirts moving against her legs. Her hair was coiffed to perfection, gold curls spilling down the back of her neck. Blue topaz winked at her throat, ears, and wrist, adding a touch of sparkle to the ensemble.
Anyone who had not been at Hyde Park that afternoon had already heard the gossip before they arrived at the ball, and she was swamped by those suddenly desiring an introduction to her. Not just the dames and gossips, but also a surprising number of gentlemen, a slightly quizzical look upon their faces as if they were trying to figure out why they had never noticed her before. Mary smiled at them, but her reaction to all those gentlemen was very reserved.
No matter what Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella had said, she still wanted a man whose reason for noticing her wasn’t because a different man had noticed her first. While she realized she had never gone out of her way to draw attention, the very opposite, in fact. She was still piqued how many gentlemen now found her worthy of their consideration. Perhaps one of them would prove to be worthwhile, but in the meantime, her appraisal of their characters was not flattering.
“There you are!” Josie elbowed her way past Lord Shrove, shooting him a winning smile in apology. Apparently dazzled, the young gentleman smiled back, flummoxed by the beauty’s attention. He certainly was not going to make Mary’s list. Lily followed behind Josie, quieter but just as determined. “We have been looking everywhere for you.”
Her eyes flashed, and Mary suppressed a sigh. Knowing her friends would hear the gossip, she had managed to dash off a quick note of warning after returning home from the park, but she knew they would not be satisfied with that.
“Please excuse me,” Mary said prettily to the group of gentlemen thronged around her. “I need to speak with my friends.”
“We will not keep her long,” Josie lied, hooking her arm through Mary’s, already tugging her away. Raising her fan, Mary managed to catch her aunt’s eye, who was speaking with the Marchioness of Dunbury, likely about Felix and Gabrielle’s growing brood. The Marchioness was Gabrielle’s stepmother, though only a few years separated them in age, and their relationship was strained but slowly repairing. Normally, Mary would have hovered around her aunt, listening to the conversation, but tonight, that had been impossible. Seeing Josie and Lily by Mary’s side, her aunt waved her hand in understanding.
Just in time. Josie was practically dragging her through the Farthingale’s ballroom, Lily hot on her heels. There were little alcoves tucked away along the sides, likely meant for socially acceptable semi-private moments between courting couples or for thegrande damesto sit and gossip, but also suitable for their needs.
“You must tell useverything,” Josie said vehemently, throwing herself onto the couch and pulling Mary down with her. Lily plopped down on Mary’s other side, sandwiching her in between.
“He iscourtingyou?” Lily whispered, sounding worried.
“I… think so.” Mary rubbed her skirts nervously, eyes darting back and forth, but no one seemed inclined to follow them into the alcove. They were curious but would see what anyone would expect—a gaggle of young women, looking for a quick word of gossip between friends. Interrupting them would be rude, although Mary fully expected to be pounced on as soon as they left the alcove. That was how her entire evening had proceeded.
“He drove her in Hyde Park in full view of theton. Of course, he is.” Unlike Lily, Josie’s tones were somewhere between scandalized and gleeful. “He has not driven any other woman since when he was courting Lady Arabella.”
“But is it arealcourtship? Mary cannot marry him if he turns out to be a traitor.”
“He is not a traitor,” Mary interjected. She had no proof, but she could not believe it of him. The man’s sense of honor and morality was too ingrained. He was a rake who was determined to court her properly and preserve her reputation, even though he could have her as his bride without lifting a finger of effort if he wanted. While the morals of his Society of Sin might not match the laws of England, they were not the least bit harmful. There was absolutely no possibility of him being a traitor.
Both Josie and Lily turned back to her, ready to pounce.
“Then, itisa real courtship?” Josie was definitely more gleeful than scandalized.
“Does he know you are investigating him?” That was pragmatic Lily. “Does Evie know he is courting you?”
“Yes, no, no, and I will have to tell her tomorrow.” Mary sighed. Keeping her voice hushed, she told them everything.
Rex
As expected, thetonwas aflutter with speculation and expectation by the time he arrived at the Farthingales’ ball. He had spent a fruitless evening railing at Lucas, but he didn’t know if his words had had any effect. Lucas had still been suffering from indulging too deeply the night before and had waved off Rex’s worries.
Perhaps the time was coming when he really should let his friend reap some of the natural consequences of his actions. He could protect Barnes, at least, so he still wouldn’t be affected by Lucas’ lack of funds. He would have to think about it on the morrow.
Tonight, he wanted to cement his place at Miss Wilson’s side.
Descending the staircase into the ballroom, he ignored the twittering and whispers of theton.Miss Wilson was not where he expected her to be—truthfully, he thought it likely she would be knee-deep in new suitors—but the many glances cast to the edge of the ballroom led him to his quarry. She was seated in one of the privacy alcoves with her two friends from the at-home.
Seeing an opportunity to ingratiate himself to her companions, Rex grinned widely and strode forward. All three of them sat upright when they saw him coming, conversation ceasing and eyes widening. Clearly, they had been speaking of him, guilty expressions flashing across all their faces.
“My Lord!” Miss Wilson jumped to her feet, hastily curtsying, the other two following her only a moment behind.
“Miss Wilson.” He bowed and smiled his most charming smile. Miss Pennyworth beamed back at him while Miss Davis tilted her head, her dark eyes studying him intently. She was already gaining a reputation as an outspoken bluestocking and Miss Pennyworth that of an Original and a bit of a hoyden. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your friends.”
Meeting his gaze, Miss Wilson pursed her lips, appearing a touch exasperated, although she covered it well.