Getting to her feet, she smoothed her dress and then came over to Polly and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Now, I must go and see that all is being done as I asked.” She picked up Polly’s paintbrush and handed it back to her, so thrilled about her upcoming plans that she didn’t seem to notice the drop of paint on the floor, which Polly surreptitiously tried to cover with her slipper. “I will see you at dinner, my dear.”
As her mother let herself out of the room, Rufus, who had been waiting at the door, came bounding back in. Once Marie had closed the door firmly behind her, Polly let out a rather loud squeal of delight and, clasping her hands together, rose to her feet and began to dance around the room, Rufus now chasing her excitedly. As he jumped up, she grasped his paws in her hands and pretended to dance, until he barked to be let go.
Finally, finally, the attention was to be on her alone. Her mother would no longer be looking out for gentlemen for Violet, nor a wife for Thomas or Benjamin. As she had all but given up on Daniel’s marriage prospects, now her attention would be entirely fixed on Polly. Violet had despaired her mother’s constant presence, as they always seemed to be having words, but Polly didn’t mind it. True, their mother sometimes overstepped, but she was only trying to find them all settled as best she could.
Her heart beating wildly with delight, Polly looked out of the window at the familiar view. The rolling hills and small cottages would soon be replaced by the grand yet tight buildings and bustling streets of London. No longer would she spend days and nights with only her mother for company, forced to remain indoors while the wind and the rain beat down wildly against the windows.
“Mayhap I shall never live here again,” Polly whispered to herself, ignoring the slight twinge of sadness that hit her soul with that thought. “Perhaps I shall soon be mistress of my own home.”
While she had been to London before for the Season, she had never truly allowed herself to do anything more than further certain acquaintances, for she had known her father expected her older sister Violet to marry first. A sense of freedom filled her as she drew in a long breath, her smile broadening. Now if a gentleman should ask to take her for a ride in his phaeton, she would be free to accept!
Violet, of course, had been much too careful when it came to gentlemen, although Polly was glad that her sister had managed to find so kind a husband. However, Polly had always found Violet far too wary of gentlemen’s intentions, worrying that they cared only for her title and status as opposed to her heart. Polly had no such fears, for surely she would be able to tell if someone truly cared for her, would she not? Polly prided herself on being a rather excellent judge of character, and she would know if a gentleman’s whispered words of love were true.
“Two days,” she whispered, her breath frosting the window. “Two days and I will be back amongst society.”
She could hardly wait.
2
“Now remember to smile, Polly and stop looking quite so frantic, if you please.”
“I am not frantic, Mama, I am excited,” Polly exclaimed, with a roll of her eyes. “And of course, I will smile. This is not my first foray into society, after all.”
For whatever reason, her mother continued to look rather nervous, although Polly could not understand why. After all, she was wearing a brand-new gown of the highest quality, cut to reflect the current fashions. Her mother had wanted her to wear white, but Polly had convinced her otherwise. She had chosen a light pink satin, overlaid with ivory lace to the mid-calf. The underskirt was trimmed with dozens of roses, while the puffed sleeves were adorned with beautiful detail, finished with a gathered lace trim at the sleeve hem. The bodice was also decidedly puffed, and a wide pink satin ribbon emphasized her narrow waist.
Her hair had taken hours to style. Her maid, Lucy, had artfully gathered her blonde curls at the top of her head, pinning them perfectly into place. They were set off by a beautiful headband matching the satin of her dress. All in all, Polly thought she looked rather decent, which was why she could not place her mother’s sudden anxiety.
“I do hope we will find someone to help with further introductions,” Marie murmured, as they began to descend the steps together. “After all, there were a great many young ladies married last Season!”
“And I am quite sure there will be more gentlemen,” Polly replied, soothingly. “It is not as though none of those young ladies and gentlemen did not have siblings themselves.”
Her mother paused, smiled tersely, and then continued to descend. “Yes, of course. I had not thought of that. Though many of the titled young gentlemen seem to have been spoken for.” She chewed her bottom lip worriedly. As they reached the base of the staircase and entered the drawing room, her mother let out a long sigh. “I just want to ensure that you find the best of acquaintances, Polly. I will not pretend that all those who seek your company do so because of your beauty, although you are, of course, very lovely.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Polly murmured, unsure of whether or not that was a compliment. Her mother, however, paid her no mind as she continued to prattle.
“Be certain you do not speak too much or become overly exuberant, as you are wont to do. Gentlemen want a wife who is serene and demure,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But you know all this, as we have spoken of it before. Just remember, there will be gentlemen who seek your company and perhaps even your hand in order to secure a fortune for themselves – a fortune they may have once had and then lost. You must be on your guard, Polly. That is why I am so eager to ensure that we mix with those who are known to be true gentlemen.”
Understanding but not concerned over her mother’s words, Polly moved forward into the ballroom, her eyes brightening as she took in all the wonderful colors and sounds. She was sure her mother was over exaggerating how much she would need to be on her guard for, after all, there were many similarly titled young ladies present with equally large dowries.
“Ah, Duchess!”
Polly turned at the voice, and her mother responded with delight as she greeted another lady of a similar age to herself. As Polly curtsied, she tried to recall the lady’s face, as she knew she been introduced to her last year.
“Lady Yardley,” her mother continued, with a sharp look at Polly, who had, as yet, not said a word. “May I present my youngest daughter, Lady Polly.”
Lady Yardley greeted Polly at once, a warm smile on her face. She was tall with long, dark eyelashes that framed the bluest eyes Polly had ever seen and, despite her age, had a rather youthful appearance.
“My dear Lady Polly, how are you?” Lady Yardley said as she smiled. “You are to have a Season all to yourself now, are you not?”
“I am,” Polly replied, smiling back. “This is only our first event, however.”
“Well, you have not missed much so far, I can assure you,” Lady Yardley chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the guests. “This is usually one of the first balls of the Season and I am sure that you will soon find plenty of gentlemen wishing to dance with you.”
Polly swallowed and tried not to think of her as-yet empty dance card, hoping Lady Yardley was right.
“In fact, let me introduce you to my son,” Lady Yardley continued, scanning the crowd. “He was away on business last Season, so you will not have met him before.” She shot a quick glance toward Polly’s mother, who gave the tiniest nod, evidently giving her consent for him to be introduced, although there was a faint look of disapproval on her features.
“Here he is,” Lady Yardley cried, hurrying forward and catching a young man by the elbow. “Victor, come here a moment, will you? I wish to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”
Polly tried not to stare as the young man looked down at his mother, evidently rather annoyed, before catching himself and coming toward Polly and her mother. He was tall and rather lean, with sharp blue eyes and a shock of fair hair that had been neatly styled. He bowed deeply upon seeing them, smiling broadly, although the smile did not warm his eyes. He was
, however, rather good looking, and Polly blushed at the way he studied her.
“Duchess, Lady Polly – may I introduce my son, the Earl of Yardley. Yardley, this is the Duchess of Ware and her youngest daughter, Lady Polly.”
“How very good to meet you,” Polly murmured, hoping that her curtsy was more or less perfect. “Your mother tells me you were away on business last Season and so missed all the excitement in town.”
He nodded, no smile on his face. “Yes, I did. Most unfortunate. My father passed away earlier last year, and so I was caught up in taking on my expected responsibilities.”
The smile died on Polly’s face, her stomach swirling with a sudden anxiety. “I see,” she murmured, wondering if she had insulted him. “I am terribly sorry for what must have been a difficult loss.”
Lord Yardley nodded, with a slight lift of his shoulders. “It was some time ago, as I said.”
There was a strained silence for a moment, and Polly simply could not think of anything to say. She felt as though she had said something out of turn, even though she had only been making polite conversation. The gentleman himself did not seem to want to talk with her any further either, for his gaze drifted over her shoulder, evidently seeing something much more interesting just beyond her. Coloring with embarrassment, Polly looked away, only to catch a rather angry expression on her mother’s face.
Lady Yardley looked rather embarrassed as she turned to her son. “Yardley, Lady Polly’s dance card is certainly in need of some—”
“Oh, do excuse us!” Polly’s mother exclaimed, interrupting her friend. “I have just seen Lady Mallen, and I simply must greet her. Lovely meeting you, my lord.”
She took Polly’s arm and practically dragged her away, muttering something under her breath.
“Whatever is the matter, Mama?” Polly asked, looking up at her mother in surprise. “I thought you wanted me to dance.”
“I do,” her mother answered, managing to weave skillfully in and out of the other guests. “But I do not want you to dance with him!”
“But why ever not? He is an earl.”
The Duchess stopped short, turning around to face Polly, her expression stern. “Because he is nothing more than a rake, Polly. I have not met the young man myself before, but I have heard plenty about him!”
Frowning, Polly planted her hands on her hips. “Mama, you have listened to gossip.”
Her mother shook her head. “It is more than gossip, Polly. There is evidence that the man has been nothing more than a spendthrift, throwing away his father’s fortune on whatever he wishes!”
“But perhaps that was before he assumed the title,” Polly argued, not wanting to believe all that was said about him simply based on rumor. “Besides, it is not as though dancing with him means that anything particular will form between us.”
There was a moment of quiet and, as Polly watched, her mother lifted her chin just a little, holding Polly’s eyes with a long, steady gaze.
“Polly, I am trying my best to guide you,” her mother said softly. “Will you allow me to do that? Will you take my word that some gentlemen are best avoided?”
Polly bit her lip, her hands flopping down by her sides. “Yes, I suppose I must,” she said, heavily. “I just do not like rumor, Mama.”
Thankfully, the Duchess smiled and put her hand on Polly’s shoulder, the tension between them draining away. “I’m afraid there will be plenty of that about, Polly. You must be wise and listen to advice, even if it is from your own mother.”
Trying to smile, Polly shrugged. “But what of those gentlemen you do not know?”
“Then I shall find out,” her mother declared, firmly. “And I shall do so before any serious attachment is formed. Do not worry, my dear child. I shall help you in every way I can.” She looked down at Polly and smiled, dropping her hand back to her side. “Now, come. We must find you a few dance partners, and I am quite sure that I shall be able to introduce you to a great many respectable gentlemen who will be most willing to make your acquaintance!”
Polly soon discovered that her mother was true to her word. Within a few minutes, her dance card was already signed by no less than three gentlemen and, only a short time later, Polly was out on the dance floor, laughing and smiling as she took part in a quadrille.
She also soon discovered that, as soon as it was made know the daughter of the Duke of Ware was in attendance at the ball, her popularity appeared to increase all the more. She could hardly believe it and was overcome with delight. She had never garnered much attention in her previous Season, but she supposed that was because Violet had also been present, and it had been her duty to marry first. Now that Polly was the only eligible daughter left, she had more new acquaintances than ever before.
It was all a little overwhelming, and she felt her cheeks flush with exhilaration as well as her efforts on the dance floor, but she could hardly wait for more.
Seeing that her mother was busy talking to another acquaintance, Polly managed to excuse herself for a few minutes and quickly made her way back up the staircase in search of some refreshment. A glass of ratafia was soon procured and Polly took a few minutes to lean on the balcony and look out over the crowd.
The ballroom was alive with the beautiful colors of swirling dresses and the sounds of the orchestra as it began playing the next dance. Glancing down at her dance card, Polly was relieved to see that she was not standing anyone up, for this was one of her only free dances.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Lady Polly?”
With a shriek of fright at her surprise, Polly jumped, the remnants of her drink splashing a somewhat dark brown on the pale pink of her skirts. She turned around to see a gentleman coming toward her, a rather apologetic look on his face, although his eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Lord Taylor,” he introduced himself, bowing deeply. “I do apologize for startling you, Lady Polly. It was not my intention.”
“Lord Taylor,” Polly repeated, trying desperately to regain her composure. “I do apologize, but it seems my dress…”
“Oh dear,” he said, his brows coming together as his eyes took in the stain beginning to form. “I am very sorry, Lady Polly. Here, allow me.”
He looked around, but finding no servants immediately about, he removed his handkerchief and pressed it to her skirts. Polly felt heat rise up in her cheeks at the forwardness, and took the handkerchief from his hand, thanking him as she blotted out the liquid herself.
“My apologies, again,” he said, straightening, looking somewhat abashed.
The gentleman was familiar, she realized as she forgot her dress, which really was not stained very badly after all his quick attention to it, and focused on his face. His sandy hair swept across his brow, while his brown eyes were warm. He had a strong jaw and was rather broad. Struggling to recall where she had seen him before, Polly suddenly remembered being introduced to him. “You are a friend of my brother-in-law, are you not?”
He chuckled. “Yes, well remembered, if I may say so. I was present at his wedding and was introduced to you there.”
“I have been back at my father’s estate since then,” Polly explained, suddenly aware that she was alone with a gentleman she barely knew, one of the many circumstances in which her mother had warned her not to find herself. “But now my mother and I are back for the Season. I should return to her, of course.”
He bowed, stepping away from her. “But of course. I do apologize for intruding on your quiet, Lady Polly, and for the state of your dress.”
She paused, suddenly caught by the warmth in his gaze. “You need not apologize, Lord Taylor. I am quite all right. It was very nice to see you again.”
“Yes, indeed,” came the reply, with a slight nod of his head. “I hope I might have the pleasure of your company again very soon.”
Polly simply smiled before hurrying back down the stairs to find the powder room. While Lord Taylor had appeared to be a kind enough gentleman, she barely knew him and, with her mothe
r’s warning ringing in her ears, Polly had to admit she felt a little relieved to be back among the rest of the guests.
3
Lord Sebastian Taylor, second son to the Marquess of Pitt, watched Lady Polly Harrington make her way back through the crowd of the ballroom below, appreciating the girl’s beauty and spirit.
It was, in fact, a new and unusual feeling, and not one he particularly appreciated.
And yet, still, he could not take his eyes from her. He felt rather daft for causing her to spill on her dress, though from what he could see it seemed she was not overly concerned. He watched as she smiled and laughed while speaking with a couple of gentlemen, her mother standing nearby, smiling in approval.
Apparently, Lady Polly was now eligible.
That in itself should come as no surprise to him, given that his close friend had married her older sister around a year ago. Still, he was surprised to see her so … womanly. It was as if she had been hiding behind Violet, impatiently waiting for her to step out of the way so that she might leave her girlhood behind and mature into a young lady. Polly had always been vibrant, as he recalled, but her exuberance had calmed to a rather shining light that seemed to follow her around.
And what a light it was.
It had been a year at least since he had been introduced to her, but Sebastian had to admit that he had never forgotten her. She had always been beautiful, of course, but over this last year it now seemed as though she had become even more lovely. She was tall and willowy, moving gracefully across the floor as she began to dance with her partner. Her eyes were bright, her smile as soft as the flaxen curls that bounced around her temples.
Goodness, but she quite took his breath away.
The thought hit him like a lightning bolt. Frozen in place, Sebastian reminded himself that this would not be a lady for him. For one, she was rather young. Despite the fact she must be over twenty now, she was likely eight years his junior. Not that age seemed to hold back many in society, but she was the sister-in-law to his closest friend, Lord Greville. He was not at all certain that either Violet or Greville would be glad of his current feelings regarding Lady Polly.
Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 41
