With a sigh, she turned back and caught her father’s quick smile as he leaned down and proffered his arm. “Terrifying, isn’t it?”
“Quite.” She took the offered arm and matched his grin with one of her own. “How do you ever survive it?”
With a brief, almost imperceptible nod toward her mother, who had turned from her position just steps ahead to wait for them, he answered, “‘Tis a duke’s duty to make his duchess happy, moppet.”
Alex’s smile broadened at his answer. Her mother spoke quietly as they reached her, her voice traveling only far enough to be heard by the two of them. “To your right, Alexandra, is Lady Jersey.” Alex turned her head to get a look at the petite, rather unattractive woman who was nicknamed The Queen of London for her position as the most discerning of Almack’s patronesses, before her mother added in exasperation, “Do attempt to be discreet, Alexandra. Ladies do not stare.”
Alex snapped her head back and offered a sheepish apology to her mother, then lowering her voice to a whisper and speaking close to the duchess’s ear, “That woman turned away the Duke of Wellington?” referencing the legendary piece of gossip that would certainly afford Lady Sarah Jersey a place in the annals of London’s aristocratic history. The Duke of Wellington—a war hero of the first water and a duke no less—had been set down by this wisp of a woman? Denied entry to Almack’s? A place made famous by satin flounces and weak lemonade? What kind of rules was this society perpetuating?
“Indeed. He arrived wearing trousers instead of knee breeches.”
Alex couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of such a perceived infraction. Her father noticed and spoke drily, “Never fear, moppet. My understanding is that Lady Jersey’s lesson has served him well in battle. He wouldn’t dream of meeting Napoleon in anything less than the most current of fashions.”
“And thank goodness for that,” Alex responded, her feigned seriousness drawing a bark of laughter from her father.
“I do wish you wouldn’t encourage her,” the duchess said to him, covering her obvious amusement with an exasperated sigh before turning back to her daughter. “Are you ready for your debut, Alexandra?”
“Do I have the option of saying no?” she asked, the hint of sarcasm in her voice drawing a quelling look from her mother.
“Not in the least. I’ve been waiting for this moment for far too long. You are going to…”
“Yes, yes. Set the ton on its ear.” Alex interrupted, taking a deep breath and shoring up her confidence. It was time, whether she liked it or not. “Well, then. I rather think we should get started, don’t you?”
“What a crush!”
Alex took hold of Ella’s hand and pulled her friend into an alcove off the main ballroom of Almack’s, away from the mass of London’s nobility. “And people do this every week?” Making sure they were tucked away behind a significantly sized potted fern, Alex leaned against a marble column. “I’m never coming here again if I can help it.”
Ella chuckled and leaned close to her friend with an impish gleam in her eye. “And now I am at Almack’s, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place!”
Laughing at her friend’s rendition of a line from her favorite Shakespearean play, Alex then completed it. “But travelers must be content! Oh…what I wouldn’t give to be in a forest far away from titles of any kind!” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If I am cornered by Lord Waring one more time, I shall have to feign sickness. I may counterfeit a swoon to avoid having to speak to him again!”
“I shall keep my smelling salts at the ready.” Ella peeked through the plant to be certain no one was listening to them. “I noticed him mincing after you. Your mother must have been happy to see it. He is, after all, a marquess.”
“Indeed. The Marquess of Excruciating Dullness. Lord ‘Waring’ is right. He’s wearing on my patience.”
The girls laughed a touch too loudly, checked themselves, and grinned. Ella spoke. “You shall see us both into a grip of trouble if you keep on like that, Alex. What will our mothers say if we are discovered laughing too loudly! And mere hours after being presented to the Prince Regent!”
“I thought I heard you two laughing!” Vivi poked her head around the plant. “I was wondering where you were hiding.” Taking note of the nook, she tilted her head in approval. She tucked herself into the small space and gave a mock appraisal. “Very nice. Quite spacious!”
“There is still more room than out there,” Alex said with an unladylike c**k of her head. “Is it getting any better?”
“Not remotely. But it’s just eleven, which means no one else can enter—so that’s something.” Vivi peered through the leaves of the palm, scanning the room. “Why anyone would look forward to an evening at Almack’s is beyond me. I’ve had my toes stepped on twice, the Dowager Duchess of Lockwood poked me with her walking stick—on purpose—and I narrowly avoided a lemonade mishap at the hands of Lord Waring.” She sighed and looked back at her friends. “You don’t appear to have been doing much better!”
Resuming her overview of the ballroom, Vivi took note of a tall, handsome young man and lifted an eyebrow at Alex. “However, I did happen to see you laughing with Lord Stanhope during a quadrille. Is there something you would like to tell your dearest friends?”
“Quite.” She took the offered arm and matched his grin with one of her own. “How do you ever survive it?”
With a brief, almost imperceptible nod toward her mother, who had turned from her position just steps ahead to wait for them, he answered, “‘Tis a duke’s duty to make his duchess happy, moppet.”
Alex’s smile broadened at his answer. Her mother spoke quietly as they reached her, her voice traveling only far enough to be heard by the two of them. “To your right, Alexandra, is Lady Jersey.” Alex turned her head to get a look at the petite, rather unattractive woman who was nicknamed The Queen of London for her position as the most discerning of Almack’s patronesses, before her mother added in exasperation, “Do attempt to be discreet, Alexandra. Ladies do not stare.”
Alex snapped her head back and offered a sheepish apology to her mother, then lowering her voice to a whisper and speaking close to the duchess’s ear, “That woman turned away the Duke of Wellington?” referencing the legendary piece of gossip that would certainly afford Lady Sarah Jersey a place in the annals of London’s aristocratic history. The Duke of Wellington—a war hero of the first water and a duke no less—had been set down by this wisp of a woman? Denied entry to Almack’s? A place made famous by satin flounces and weak lemonade? What kind of rules was this society perpetuating?
“Indeed. He arrived wearing trousers instead of knee breeches.”
Alex couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of such a perceived infraction. Her father noticed and spoke drily, “Never fear, moppet. My understanding is that Lady Jersey’s lesson has served him well in battle. He wouldn’t dream of meeting Napoleon in anything less than the most current of fashions.”
“And thank goodness for that,” Alex responded, her feigned seriousness drawing a bark of laughter from her father.
“I do wish you wouldn’t encourage her,” the duchess said to him, covering her obvious amusement with an exasperated sigh before turning back to her daughter. “Are you ready for your debut, Alexandra?”
“Do I have the option of saying no?” she asked, the hint of sarcasm in her voice drawing a quelling look from her mother.
“Not in the least. I’ve been waiting for this moment for far too long. You are going to…”
“Yes, yes. Set the ton on its ear.” Alex interrupted, taking a deep breath and shoring up her confidence. It was time, whether she liked it or not. “Well, then. I rather think we should get started, don’t you?”
“What a crush!”
Alex took hold of Ella’s hand and pulled her friend into an alcove off the main ballroom of Almack’s, away from the mass of London’s nobility. “And people do this every week?” Making sure they were tucked away behind a significantly sized potted fern, Alex leaned against a marble column. “I’m never coming here again if I can help it.”
Ella chuckled and leaned close to her friend with an impish gleam in her eye. “And now I am at Almack’s, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place!”
Laughing at her friend’s rendition of a line from her favorite Shakespearean play, Alex then completed it. “But travelers must be content! Oh…what I wouldn’t give to be in a forest far away from titles of any kind!” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If I am cornered by Lord Waring one more time, I shall have to feign sickness. I may counterfeit a swoon to avoid having to speak to him again!”
“I shall keep my smelling salts at the ready.” Ella peeked through the plant to be certain no one was listening to them. “I noticed him mincing after you. Your mother must have been happy to see it. He is, after all, a marquess.”
“Indeed. The Marquess of Excruciating Dullness. Lord ‘Waring’ is right. He’s wearing on my patience.”
The girls laughed a touch too loudly, checked themselves, and grinned. Ella spoke. “You shall see us both into a grip of trouble if you keep on like that, Alex. What will our mothers say if we are discovered laughing too loudly! And mere hours after being presented to the Prince Regent!”
“I thought I heard you two laughing!” Vivi poked her head around the plant. “I was wondering where you were hiding.” Taking note of the nook, she tilted her head in approval. She tucked herself into the small space and gave a mock appraisal. “Very nice. Quite spacious!”
“There is still more room than out there,” Alex said with an unladylike c**k of her head. “Is it getting any better?”
“Not remotely. But it’s just eleven, which means no one else can enter—so that’s something.” Vivi peered through the leaves of the palm, scanning the room. “Why anyone would look forward to an evening at Almack’s is beyond me. I’ve had my toes stepped on twice, the Dowager Duchess of Lockwood poked me with her walking stick—on purpose—and I narrowly avoided a lemonade mishap at the hands of Lord Waring.” She sighed and looked back at her friends. “You don’t appear to have been doing much better!”
Resuming her overview of the ballroom, Vivi took note of a tall, handsome young man and lifted an eyebrow at Alex. “However, I did happen to see you laughing with Lord Stanhope during a quadrille. Is there something you would like to tell your dearest friends?”
