by Amy Corwin
Enough. She was becoming maudlin, a useless mood that she detested.
She picked up the geranium silk dress and held it against her. The gleaming reddish color brought out the rose in her cheeks and made her eyes a darker, richer blue. Not that Henry would admire that change. He appeared to prefer lighter, sky blue eyes, and apparently, his cousin cherished similar tastes as he was going to marry the lovely Lady Alice.
Brushing out the dress, Hannah glanced up when the door opened.
Mary entered briskly and eyed the mound of dresses on the bed. “I’m to assist you to dress for dinner.” She picked up the dress on top of the pile and turned to the armoire, folding it efficiently and placing it on one of the shelves. “I’ve done altering a white satin gown, if you wish it.”
“This silk might be more suitable.” Hannah held up the gown for the maid’s inspection.
“One of your own,” Mary muttered, folding another gown and putting it away.
“Yes, well, I thought since I have it now…”
“The white satin has got blue velvet trim with matching silk flowers. It were one of her ladyship’s favorites.” Mary’s controlled expression gave no hint of emotion, and she carefully avoided Hannah’s gaze.
After her illness, Hannah had realized that the way to Mary’s heart was to let her care for her, but there was a limit to how much care she desired. She pressed her lips together and gave her silk dress a light shake.
“Could you assist me with this gown? I fear saltwater may have stained the fabric. It would be a terrible shame if it were ruined before I ever got the chance to wear it.”
Mary paused in folding the last of the gowns on the bed. She stared at the dress, a frown puckering her brow. “The white satin might do for tonight.”
“But don’t you think Lady Alice might wear white? I fear I will be cast into the shade by her.”
Eyes flashing at the thought, Mary grunted and took the silk dress out of Hannah’s hands. “A girl like her can’t never hope to wear this color. Let me look it over. There’ll be no sign of salt when I finish, I promise you.”
“Thank you, Mary. I knew you would understand.” Hannah watched the maid examine the gown, feeling a little guilty even though she’d won this round.
An hour later and finally dressed in her silk dress, Hannah hesitated only a moment before clasping her pearl necklace around her neck. The square neckline needed something to set it off, and the pearls were demure enough for any unmarried woman. The shoulders draped nicely and flowed into sleeves that were full and gathered at the elbows, where they then fitted smoothly down to the wrists. She picked up her white evening gloves and touched one of the curls hanging in front of her ears.
Mary had outdone herself in creating a new hairstyle for Hannah. The back was braided and wound into a knot on her crown, leaving small curls around her face that echoed the soft curl of the white feather of her pearl and silver filigree headdress.
“You looks beautiful, Miss.” Mary stood back and clasped her hands together at her waist, studying Hannah with a critical eye. “No one can fault you.”
“And the credit belongs solely to you.” Hannah smoothed the front of her dress again. “There is no sign of any salt or staining.”
“No, miss. Weren’t none to worry over. That trunk of yours must have floated on the air to shore to keep out the seawater so well.”
Hannah laughed. “Perhaps it did.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her dress again. “Well, I suppose I should join the others.”
“Yes, Miss.” Mary stepped aside and opened the bedroom door.
The silence in the hallway suggested that the others had already gone downstairs to the sitting room next to the library. There was a pianoforte in the corner of the room and several comfortable sitting areas, so it was the room the dowager preferred to use when she ventured down to the ground floor. As Hannah descended, light feminine laughter floated up the staircase, and she could hear the click of a man’s heels against the oak floorboards.
Her hands curled at her sides, but she was almost laughing at herself when she stepped off the last stair. There was absolutely no reason for her to be nervous. It didn’t matter in the slightest if Lady Alice outshone her. Blackwold was nearly betrothed to her—his opinion no longer mattered—and she knew what Henry thought.
Her smile died as she approached the door. Another tinkling cascade of laughter escaped from the room, and she felt like an unwanted intruder. She hated being the last one to enter a room. One never felt as if one belonged and could never really join a group and catch up on the conversation. One was always out of step.
Another lilting stream of laughter, male and female mingling happily, rose through the air. That had to be Lady Alice—it sounded too young and carefree to be her mother or the dowager. She could just imagine Henry and Blackwold clustered around the young woman, smiling down at her, sharing a witticism.
Hannah took a deep breath and braced herself. One last, unpleasant thought rushed through her as she stepped over the threshold. Even Henry preferred Lady Alice, the perfect British lady.
What if Hannah lost him, as well?
The thought was absurd. She didn’t even want him. In fact, it would be a relief if he eloped with Lady Alice, and she never saw either of them again. She forced a pleasant smile, raised her chin, and walked straight over to stand near the dowager’s wing chair by the fire.
Looking around, she saw Gina and the three men, Blackwold, Henry, and the vicar, standing in an arc around Lady Alice. Her first reaction upon seeing her was relief that she hadn’t worn the white dress with the blue trim. Gina was wearing a lovely white gown with trim of green leaves intertwined with yellow roses, and Lady Alice was wearing a pale ensemble that would have cast the dowager’s remade dress into the shade.
Lady Alice’s gown of gros de Naples was the palest pink imaginable, barely pink at all, with an overdress of sheer white silk gauze. The bodice was rather high in the front, but lower on the shoulders, emphasizing the lovely curve of her neck, shoulders, and hint of a bosom. The neckline was trimmed with a notched ruche of gros de Naples and the sleeves were short and extremely full, set in with a satin-corded band and long white crèpe lisse sleeves inserted at the shoulder. The elegant sleeves were confined at the wrists with broad seed-pearl bracelets.
Her jewelry consisted of a simple gold locket and small pearl earrings, and Hannah eyed the locket while fingering her own necklace. The pearls felt huge and ostentatious as she rubbed them and then touched her dangling earrings. Even her headdress felt too much. A simple pale pink ribbon had been threaded through the soft curls piled up on top of Lady Alice’s head. She looked very young—fresh and appealing—and Hannah could see why Henry admired her.
In fact, she could see why all the men admired her. Even Gina appeared a trifle gauche, though her dress was fashionable and lovely on her, with a simple yellow ribbon threaded through her brown hair. She was clearly drinking in the elegance of Lady Alice’s costume and probably making notes about modifications she might make to her own wardrobe.
Lady Northrop, sitting on the couch across from the dowager, flicked satisfied glances at her daughter, clearly pleased with the girl’s reception. The older woman obviously spent time on her own toilet as well, for she wore a lovely blue silk gown fitted tightly on the bodice with drooping shoulders similar to her daughter’s dress, but cut slightly higher and not quite as revealing. Her sleeves ballooned out from the shoulders to the elbows, where they were nipped in and fitted to the wrist.
Unlike her daughter’s modest jewelry, the diamond collar necklace, set with deep blue sapphires, sparkled around her long neck, and diamond-and-sapphire earrings dangled from her small ears. Diamonds nestled amongst the curls and elaborate intertwined braids of her brown hair crowning her, and the jewels glittered like tiny stars as she moved her head.
Even the dowager, arising from her sickbed to entertain her guests, had made an obvious effort to dress well. Her blac
k dress shimmered with the light cast by the fire, revealing the fabric to be a heavy and extremely expensive silk. Her gray hair was pinned up in curls around her face, and a lace-edged cap sat on top, with white silk ribbons fluttering down to the nape of her neck. Her jewelry consisted mostly of jet, but the darkness was enlivened by the thick ruffles of silver lace running around the high neckline of her gown and around the cuffs of her long sleeves.
She was flushed and grinning, breaking into a jolly laugh at some remark of Lady Northrop’s before she noticed Hannah standing nearby. “Miss Cowles—there you are at last.”
Hannah smiled, trying not to blush at the implication that she was the last one to arrive and therefore late.
“Join us.” The dowager waved at the couch where Lady Northrop was sitting.
Although there was room next to her, Hannah really didn’t want to sit so close. But it would be rude to move another chair into the gap between the two women, so she resigned herself and smiled. Her face was growing numb with the effort to retain her pleasant expression when she finally took the indicated seat.
Lady Northrop moved over a fraction, but her violet perfume filled the surrounding air. Her sharp elbow kept brushing Hannah’s arm as she resumed her conversation with the dowager. “I truly do not want to live on Upper Seymour Street; I would much prefer Berkley Square. But thus far, we have simply been unable to locate any available apartments. This is Lady Alice’s first,” she smiled complacently and clasped her hands in her lap, “and if we are fortunate, only Season, so it must be perfection itself.”
The dowager laughed. “I am sure she will make do, regardless of the address, and that is hardly a poor situation.”
“Make do?” Lady Northrop murmured, her nose wrinkling as a look of distaste crossed her face. “We must certainly do better than that.”
“Well, Blackwold has a townhouse on Portman Square, just around the corner, so perhaps Lady Alice might find it convenient, after all.”
Lady Northrop sighed. “I suppose so. All these small matters are so tiresome.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple for an instant. “I suppose I worry over nothing.” A set, polite smile stretched her mouth as she turned to Hannah. “I understand you will be joining Miss Hodges in London, Miss Cowles. You must be very pleased.”
“Yes, Miss Cowles is quite the American heiress,” the dowager said before Hannah could reply.
She felt her cheeks flame, and she dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit the truth now, with Lady Northrop’s critical gaze fixed on her. “That was my original plan,” she said finally. Her fingers tightened. “To be honest, since the shipwreck, I have not had sufficient time to consider how I should proceed.”
“Oh, yes. The wreck.” Lady Northrop’s voice sounded cold. “So unfortunate.”
“Yes.” Hannah could entirely agree with that statement: Orion’s sinking was unfortunate. At the very least.
“It is just too bad that you cannot join the girls at Almack’s.” Gazing at her fixedly, Lady Northrop’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. “But of course, foreigners and the nouveau riche cannot hope to be granted entrance.”
“I am hardly nouveau riche—my father was a baron.”
“Would have been a baron,” Lady Northrop corrected, her tight little smile never leaving her face. “According to Lady Blackwold, he never applied for the title, my dear. He as good as abandoned it, as well as his estates, when he left England. Hardly an illustrious background that would grant you entrance to such an exclusive gathering as the Wednesday night subscription ball at Almack’s.” She reached over her lap with her left hand and patted Hannah’s knotted fingers. “You do have our sympathy, my dear. It must be terribly frustrating, but it cannot be helped. Nonetheless, you may find that you have no need to attend such functions if what I gather from Lady Blackwold’s hints is true.” Her blue eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Hannah glanced at the dowager. The elderly lady had a crafty grin as she winked at her.
“We shall see,” Hannah said. Just go ahead and tell her—I’m as poor as Mr. Furlong—maybe poorer. It’s the honest answer. But she could hardly believe it herself, much less admit it to the two women watching her like scavenging crows waiting for any sign of weakness. She forced herself to smile and loosen her clasped hands.
Thankfully, Mr. Hopwood stepped through the doorway at that moment and announced that dinner was served. The guests immediately rose and arranged themselves according to social position, leaving Mr. Furlong to escort Hannah as the least important people in the room.
Nothing like having your nose rubbed in it, Hannah thought wryly as they trailed into the dining room.
While excellent food was served, including a lovely lamb roast, crispy new potatoes, huge platters of delectable fish in a rich cream sauce, and several vegetable dishes, the conversation seemed to center upon London. Hannah had little to contribute.
She felt increasingly out of step and alone as she picked at a pickled cucumber and pushed it to the edge of her plate. The smell of vinegar made her choke. Even the men were caught up in discussions about some place called Tattersalls, horses, Hyde Park, and occasionally, places of interest to the ladies.
Gina and Lady Alice professed themselves to be fascinated and listened with wide-eyed eagerness while Hannah fought back yawns and the desire to return to the quiet of her room.
She needed to think.
More and more, she wondered if she truly should give up and return home, to assess the state of her finances. She did have at least one friend in Boston, Mrs. Pernell. She’d kindly offered Hannah a place to stay anytime she needed one, and since she was widowed, Hannah wouldn’t be intruding on a large and busy household.
Of course, there was the matter of buying passage home.
Her head throbbed. She was relieved when the footman collected her plate and began serving the final course.
All she had to do was to get through dessert, spend five minutes with the dowager in the drawing room, and then give her excuses.
Chapter Eighteen
Unfortunately for Hannah, her plans to spend the evening in her room were upset by Lady Alice, who fastened on her the moment they stepped into the drawing room after dinner.
Touching her arm gently, Lady Alice drew Hannah aside. The other ladies went to the cluster of chairs near the fireplace, engrossed in a serious discussion about descending waistlines and the increasing width of skirts.
“I wanted to speak with you, Miss Cowles,” Lady Alice said in a rushed voice, glancing at her seated mother. “I was not as kind to you as I ought to have been—even our dear Mr. Hodges noted it—and I must offer you my apologies. I do so want us to be friends. I confess that I was nervous about traveling to London, even with Miss Hodges. We three must help each other—do you not agree?” Her blue eyes searched Hannah’s face eagerly.
When Hannah looked at her, she noticed the signs of worry and nervousness in the pinched skin between her fair brows and her constant biting of her plump lower lip.
Hannah nodded. “Yes—it is always best to be friends.” A sigh almost escaped her at the thought. She didn’t want to like Lady Alice—she preferred to think of her as a featherbrained snob, not as a nervous young woman anticipating her first Season in London.
“Thank goodness. I knew you would agree. You have such a kind face—even my dear Georgina said that you were simply the kindest woman imaginable.” She linked arms with Hannah and drew her over to a pair of padded chairs near the pianoforte in the corner. “I was completely overcome with nerves when my mother informed me that we would be stopping our journey here for a few days. I have only met Lord Blackwold a few times, and never to talk to him. And even though my mother assures me that he is quite amiable—for a man—I was nearly prostrate when we arrived.” Her eyes flickered in the direction of the door, clearly anticipating the arrival of the men.
“You didn’t look at all nervous,” Hannah assured
her with a smile. “And Lord Blackwold appears to be quite friendly. I’m sure you have nothing to fear.”
She giggled and hastily covered her mouth with her hand, her gaze straying again to the door. “Yes. And once we are married, I am sure I can manage him to be more to my liking.” She broke off with a tiny laugh. “The first thing shall be his hair—I shall insist on it being properly trimmed and groomed. Why, he looks quite like one of those shaggy dogs one sees on farms. And I shall speak to his valet—he must either tidy Lord Blackwold’s wardrobe, or I shall insist that he be let go and a valet hired who will ensure Lord Blackwold’s neat appearance. I cannot bear to see him so rumpled and coarse. Why, if I did not know better, I would believe he was one of those wretched souls one sees wandering the streets, sleeping in alleyways and such.” She gave a delicate shiver. “Why anyone should wish to sleep in an alleyway is beyond comprehension.”
“I don’t believe they wish to do so.” Hannah’s thoughts spun in circles. She intends to change Blackwold—remake him into a different man. How could she even consider such a thing? Blackwold was so endearing—so comfortable—just the way he was.
“Then why do they do it?”
“Why does who do what?” she asked in confusion.
“Those men—why do they sleep in alleyways if they do not wish to do so?”
“I think it is because they do not have the means to sleep anywhere else. They are poor.”
“Is that truly the reason?” Lady Alice seemed surprised. “I had not realized it—though one does wonder.”
“I suppose so.” One wondered only if one decided to remain ignorant of the lives of those less fortunate. Some of the friendship she’d been experiencing for Lady Alice withered. She studied Lady Alice’s pretty, young face. “Perhaps after you are married, you will decide that you prefer Lord Blackwold just as he is.”
