The grand ball was truly a sight to behold. The polished walnut balustrade of the entrance hall was decorated with carvings of cherubs adorned in leafy attire, strategically placed. Marble pillars towered over the ballroom and mantels filled with what must be priceless statues lined the walls. Miss Anne Albright speculated at the time and care and, of course, the coin that hosting such an event must cost.
Her father was a viscount and a respectable gentleman, though she still felt like a country bumpkin as she gazed up at yet another manor which put her own home in a class beneath it. With every event Anne attended in London, she felt more and more an imposter amongst the grand persons in attendance. She feared at any moment someone may notice that she didn’t belong, and she would turn into a pumpkin. The notion was entirely ridiculous.
As the eldest daughter of the Viscount Aldbrick, Anne was not accustomed to such finery, but neither was she common. She had traveled to London with the newly made Duchess of Bramblewood, Emily Burgess, and was currently staying with her. Anne had visited with Emily several times in the past. The pair of young ladies were great friends; at least they had been before Emily’s marriage to the duke.
Anne swallowed and attempted to banish these maudlin thoughts. She and Emily had been friends since they were barely old enough to toddle. The pair of young ladies had attended finishing school together, so Anne knew that she shouldn’t feel awkward, but she still did. Emily’s mother was her chaperone this season, and she liked Emily’s mother well enough, but Lady Kentleworth was not her mother.
Anne had been most excited when Emily had invited her to Town for a visit and for the opening of Bramblewood’s London home. Anne and Emily had gone on several whirlwind shopping trips for the house, while Alexander, Emily’s new husband, the young duke, fulfilled his parliamentary duties.
Alexander’s father had not been much for Town, and even less for Parliament, especially after the death of Alexander’s mother. The large house in Mayfair had been left empty, or let out to other nobles for years. Now, Alexander and his young bride were in residence for the season. Anne was privileged to join them, along with her younger sister Eliza and several servants from Bramblewood.
Lady Kentleworth agreed to chaperone the Albright sisters, spending most of her time with them at her daughter’s new London house rather than her own Mayfair residence where Lord Kentleworth resided. The duke’s grand edifice was an empty hall in desperate need of a woman’s touch. Anne felt comfortable making suggestions to Emily about the decorations. Together the women had spent weeks preparing the house.
Alexander’s father, the late duke had a terrible reputation and Alexander was only now starting to redeem his family’s name. As the new duchess, Emily wanted to make a good impression at the first major event she hosted. She was nervous, but Anne had calmed her like the good friend she was, and the ball went off without a hitch. It was a great success and the Ton had nothing but good things to say about the new Duchess of Bramblewood.
Anne remembered the Bramblewood ballroom filled with important people dressed in royal finery and attempted to recapture the feeling of that first wondrous evening, but the pleasant sensation slipped away. That night, she had been with her best friend. Emily had wanted Anne by her side, and she rarely left it except to dance a few dances with the young duke, and Emily’s brother, Edmund Ingram. The thought of Edmund brought a smile to Anne’s lips.
Now, she scanned Lord Northrup’s ballroom searching for him. Edmund was as much a friend to the duke as Anne was to Emily. When they were younger the four of them had been nearly inseparable.
That first evening, Edmund and his father, the Viscount Kentleworth, had been solicitous, bringing all manner of gentry to Emily and Anne for introductions. Even though important people surrounded her, Anne felt steady with her friends at her side.
Then, Edmund asked her to dance. She was a bit surprised. He was not the best of dancers, but he was so earnest it was impossible to refuse him. They had danced one of the simpler sets, and at the end of it, he had whirled her out onto the vast balcony, overlooking the garden. Although small, the city garden gave a feeling of the country to the opulent London house.
It was a place for lovers, but Edmund only held her gloved hand for a moment, before exclaiming about the heat in the ballroom with the crush of people. He turned and looked out at the view.
“Yes,” Anne agreed, somewhat embarrassed by the romantic turn of her thoughts. It was hot in the ballroom and the outside air was quite welcome. There was the ghost of a breeze. “Your sister is a grand success,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, Em is made for this,” he said, “and I am glad for it, but if I have to kowtow to one more of Father’s cronies, I may cast up my accounts.”
“You wouldn’t,” Anne said, with a giggle.
“No. I wouldn’t. I shall be a dutiful son and a good brother and stand fast.” He looked at Anne for a moment, his bright green eyes sparkling, and her heart did a strange flip flop.
“Thank you for the dance,” Edmund said at last. “I thought it would look odd if the brother of the new duchess failed to dance at all, and I knew you wouldn’t mind my ineptitude.”
Anne grinned at him remembering when they were younger and the many hours they spent practicing dancing. Edmund had trod on her toes repeatedly, and on one occasion stepped on the hem of her dress, tearing it unmercifully. Tonight was a marked improvement.
“Actually, you did rather well.” Anne said with a smile that was only for Edmund.
Edmund laughed. “You are a sport, putting up with my treading on your toes and not even calling me out for it. Shall we find some refreshment?” He took her arm to lead her back into the ballroom. Anne wondered when her wayward friend had become a gentleman.
The two of them had spent most of the evening talking and it was almost like old times. After the guests had gone home, the four friends celebrated their success in the drawing room with wine while the servants cleared away the remainder of the food. Alexander had commandeered a plate of meat and cheese and they ate ravenously.
“I couldn’t eat a bite at dinner,” Emily admitted. “I was too nervous.”
Anne nodded, thinking she had felt the same. Now, with all pretense stripped away, they were just four friends sharing a good time, until Alexander leaned in to whisper something in Emily’s ear. She blushed, turning her face up to his. They did not kiss, but the heat was palpable. Anne felt suddenly uncomfortable.
“It is late; we should retire,” Anne suggested, and Emily agreed, her eyes shining with love for her new husband.
Edmund snatched a last bite of roast pork and Alexander called a footman to clear away the rest. Emily and Alexander retired for the night, but Edmund and Anne stood awkwardly on the landing. The silence seemed to grow and stretch between them. Then, Edmund had cleared his throat and mumbled, “Goodnight,” turning away.
Anne had not seen Edmund since that night although she knew he was still in Town.
Every event she searched for him only to find he was once again absent. She took a deep breath and attempted to cultivate her normal devil-may-care attitude. She would enjoy herself. She would.
The Lord and Lady Northrup knew how to host an event. The ballroom was full to bursting and Anne knew she should appreciate the grand spectacle. Only it was so much easier to relax in the country amongst familiar faces, and there was one familiar face that was lacking in the crowd. She felt his absence keenly and could not help scanning the guests once again in search of Edmund’s teasing smile. She could not help but feel melancholy when she confirmed his absence.
“Whatever am I doing?” She muttered to herself in disgust. She was pining after him.
“I beg your pardon, Miss?”
Anne looked up in some consternation as a footman addressed her, only to realize that quite by accident, she had spoken aloud. It was no wonder the man seemed confused as he stood next to her, a silver tray held in his gloved hands.
“Oh…Nothing, I’m sure. I beg your pardon.” Cheeks burning, Anne lifted a glass of wine carefully from the offered tray and raised it to her lips, thankful for the refreshment. The footman moved on, serving other guests.
Anne looked for her sister, Eliza and found her across the room, flushed and dancing. That is what she should be doing, Anne thought. But no one had asked her. Sweet heavens? Was she becoming a wallflower? Surely not. She should find Emily, not stand in the corner alone.
Anne sighed softly as she watched her dearest friend move though the room. The new Duchess of Bramblewood was in her element. Emily always had the right smile or soft word for each person she met. She seemed to have an instinctive feel for the ranks of every individual in the room, always showing just the right amount of courtesy to leave the other person well-satisfied as she moved on to the next acquaintance. A ball of this sort always had several important personages upon the guest list. Most were far more concerned with meeting a duchess than a country viscount’s daughter, like Anne.
She had never before minded her country roots, but Emily’s marriage had catapulted her friend into an entirely new circle from which Anne felt exempt. She wished vainly for another female friend, someone fun. Even Henrietta would be welcome, but the lady had returned to Scotland with her new husband, Mr. Eldridge.
It seemed everyone was now married and far too busy to bother with their old friend. Everything had changed. Emily had Alexander, and although their foursome had always included Emily’s brother, Edmund, he had barely shown himself in the past weeks. Even if he had done, Anne could not dance more than two dances with him at a single event, not without causing talk. It just was not done.
Flustered, she turned her attention back to the wine glass in her hand. Another sip gave her something to do. Emily would return soon. Maybe. She seemed much taken with her husband. Anne caught sight of her beside Alexander and considered the couple from afar, wondering what it must be like to have a husband. Someone with whom one could confide, to lean on when things became difficult. To smile with the way Emily was smiling now.
You must cease in these silly daydreams and focus on the matter at hand, Anne told herself. Do not moon over someone else’s relationship, but rather spend more time building your own.
The voice in her head sounded an awful lot like Emily’s mother. Perhaps, that was because Lady Kentleworth, as the Albright girls’ chaperone, had expressed a similar sentiment earlier this evening. Anne let her gaze move over the room, noting the gentlemen she already knew or at least had heard of, considering each for a possible match. To her surprise, she could name quite a few. If there was one thing Anne was skilled at, it was putting a name to a face. A useful skill, perhaps, especially when coupled with the ability to remember the small details, such as who was already married, to whom, and whether or not the man in question had a fortune or a scandal attached to his name.
Anne found herself relaxing as she considered each man as if playing a game with herself. The gentlemen were less intimidating when laid out in such base terms. Was she mercenary? No. She decided she was merely being careful. Too many of the men within the room were simply not appropriate for her needs. She wished she could speak with Emily or even her sister, Eliza, to ask their opinions, but Eliza was still dancing, and a crowd of countless guests who looked through Anne as though she were not even there surrounded Emily. To the London set, Anne might as well have been invisible; the duchess’ country companion.
Anne straightened her shoulders. She was a viscount’s daughter and a lady of quality. She was no country cousin.
As if to reassure herself of that fact, Anne turned to look at herself in the gilded mirror hanging on the wall just behind her. It reflected the candles marvelously, doubling the light in the room.
For a moment Anne was caught up in the vision of herself, wearing her best blue dress. It was the exact shade to match her eyes and trimmed in the most exquisite lace she had ever owned. Her blonde hair was caught up in a series of ribbons which matched her dress, and seed pearls were nestled in her curls. Her cheeks were pink and healthy, setting off a perfect pale complexion.
That she knew would change as the weather warmed. It had been a most rainy season and the summer sunshine was still absent. When it appeared, Anne would be hard pressed to avoid it.
Anne loved being out of doors, riding and even gardening with her sister and mother, although Eliza cringed when Anne touched any but the hardiest of plants. Still, right now, she had no sun-induced freckles on her nose, and no darkening of her skin. She looked like a porcelain doll with her perfectly pale skin and blonde hair. Well, that wasn’t true, she thought. She was certainly no breakable doll. She laughed at the deceptive image. Her blue eyes reflected the dozens of candles used throughout the room to light the ball, and glittered like captive stars. She was most certainly not invisible, at least not physically so. Some would even consider her beautiful. Still, she had no solid prospects, save one, and he was once again, absent.
Anne sighed and her mind wandered back to when she and Edmund were children. They had been laughing and talking all day, the four of them: Alexander, Emily, Edmund and herself. It was just before they all went away to school. She remembered it was one of the last bright days of summer. The sun was warm upon their faces. Emily had raced off with Alexander; leaving Edmund and Anne alone together at the bridge where the stream entered the Brackenbrush Lake.
They were almost of an age when a young lady and a young gentleman should not be left alone together, and yet they were children still, awkward and uncertain with one another. She and Edmund had stood there together basking in the golden hues of the setting summer sun, expecting to be called back to the house at any moment. The sky was just beginning to darken in hues of purple, peach and magenta. The day was ending, and tomorrow Anne would leave Northwick.
“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Anne admitted. Emily was wildly excited about going to finishing school, but Anne was apprehensive. She hoped that Emily would not find new friends and abandon her. “Edmund, what if we never see each other again?” she worried.
Ed had taken her hand in his. She had not worn gloves then, as she was still considered a child. She only wore them for special occasions; otherwise she would have surely ripped them climbing trees and making mischief. She remembered the warmth of Edmund’s hand in hers as he squeezed it gently. She looked at him then, wondering what he could be on about. He stared at her quite solemnly, more serious than she had ever seen him.
“That will never happen,” he replied, “because, someday, I will marry you.”
Anne was struck speechless.
Edmund continued as if it were a matter of fact. “Then we shall never have to part.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “And I shall kiss you whenever I like.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her cheek to him at the last moment.
“No, you shan’t,” Anne said with a nervous giggle. “The lady decides when she shall allow a kiss.”
“Would you then?” Edmund asked softly, and she turned to look at him wondering. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Should she allow it? She had never been kissed before. It seemed right that it should be Edmund. She had nearly agreed when Emily and Alexander returned, breaking the moment. Anne saw them coming, laughing and talking. Emily and Alexander would tease them mercilessly.
“No,” she whispered, lest they be seen. Quickly, she turned her cheek avoiding the kiss, and Edmund only brushed his face against her hair. Then Edmund saw the others too. She and Edmund jumped apart as if they were caught doing something nefarious.
Emily and Alex told them of some adventure, and the moment passed. Shortly thereafter, they had all been called in by Emily and Edmund’s, Aunt Agnes, and ordered to wash for dinner.
Anne had never spoken of the moment again. How many times over the years has she thought of it and wished she had not turned her cheek to Edmund’s impulsive kiss, but they were only children, were they not? It would not have made a difference. What sort of promise could two children make to one another?
Edmund had never spoken of that day either.
They had written sparingly while they were at school, but neither of them was much for letters. Edmund’s visits to Northwickshire were sparse and mostly spent with Alexander. Anne had hoped to rekindle their friendship over the Christmas holiday just past, and she thought they had done, but there was no hint of anything more, and now, he avoided her.
Anne wondered if he even remembered the promise he had given her. No. It was a silly childhood infatuation. Meaningless. The thought pained her; especially now that Emily was so happily married to Alexander. She berated herself once again to let go of this juvenile fantasy. Edmund had shown no special interest in her, quite the opposite in fact.
She let her eye once again scan the room hoping for a distraction. She noticed a tall gentleman with dark hair and a rather pleasing visage that she did not recognize. She stared at him, trying to place his name against the guest list. He was someone you would remember. With heavy brows, and narrowed dark eyes he would have seemed quite intimidating were it not for his pleasant smile. It was a solid smile, one that drew a person in.
The gentleman had a crowd of female admirers ringed around him and he was smiling at them all. His straight white teeth flashed as he talked, and Anne found herself smiling in return. For an instant he looked her way and Anne froze until she realized he did not truly see her, so much as pause in his conversation.
Wonderful, she thought dryly. She was invisible to him, too.
“Anne! There you are!”
Eliza came up to her, more dancing than walking, her eyes full of laughter. She grabbed her sister by the hands and twirled her around, heedless of the wine which thankfully a passing footman plucked from Anne’s hand at just the right time to keep disaster from befalling a nearby dowager. The lady glowered at them both and Eliza apologized for her exuberance, but Anne said nothing.
“You seem as though you are having quite an engaging time,” Anne commented. “I saw you dancing.”
“Yes. I found several friends from school. They invited me to take a turn around the park with them tomorrow.”
Eliza launched into a tale about a girl named Catherine and her younger sister, Marguerite, both of whom were members of a gardening club that Eliza had joined at finishing school. Both Anne and Eliza had gone to the same school, but they had vastly different interests. Eliza loved puttering with flowers and could name and draw most of the plants in their own country gardens.
Anne did her best, but she could not keep any flower alive for more than a few days. Instead, her school days were spent reading and doing exceedingly dull needlepoint. Once she was home, her cousin coaxed her into joining the local book club, but the spring, summer and autumn were filled with riding; at least as much as she could manage. Eliza wrinkled her nose at the smell of a stable, and was somewhat afraid of horses.
Anne’s eyes started to glaze over as Eliza prattled on about Catherine’s garden, giving Anne a detailed explanation of the plants and their needs. Anne could scarcely follow, or perhaps she just did not care to do so. She would never use the information since she had the very opposite of a green thumb. Plants withered at her very approach.
Anne’s eyes glanced in the direction of the comely black-haired gentleman with the engaging smile. He stopped to speak to one gentleman who gestured towards the Duke of Bramblewood and his new bride. He crossed the room rather purposefully, only to be waylaid by Baron Holmes, a doddering old man with a penchant for long-winded stories. Anne doubted the dark-haired gentleman would escape before midnight.
Eliza noticed her sister’s lack of attention and reached out to clasp her hand. “Pray tell me, Anne, what is it that troubles you so? You have made absolutely no effort to dance.”
“Generally, a lady waits to be asked,” Anne said. “Should I have requested a dance from one of the passing gentlemen?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Eliza giggled at Anne’s joke, but she was shocked at her sister’s lack of partners.
“No one has asked you?” Eliza asked.
Anne shrugged delicately.
Eliza caught both of Anne’s hands and pulled her nearer to the dance floor. “I am sure it is only because no one has seen you to ask whether or not you wished to dance,” she declared. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”
“I don’t know,” Anne admitted. “I suppose I feel suddenly shy here in London.”
“You! Shy! I think not.” Eliza shook her head.
“Forgive me, Eliza. I am feeling very much invisible tonight. There is not a soul here that has so much as noticed me.” At least not the person she wanted to notice her, Anne thought. Drat, she was becoming a wallflower.
She missed the boisterous exuberance with which Edmund tackled the day. She thought of the times they had gone riding together as children, or even the moment when he had pulled a prank by hiding some book or other object of hers, just to get her attention as he would say.
Edmund held himself with such absolute confidence in every situation he would be right at home in this ballroom. He did not care one whit what gossips said. He was entirely self-possessed, and Anne felt the same when she was with him.
Edmund would like as not, get Anne into trouble somehow. He had an absolute knack for wriggling his way out of scrapes and putting someone else right in, laughing the entire time. She could not help the smile that crossed her lips at the thought.
Eliza stomped her slippered foot. “Are you listening to a single word I have uttered here tonight?”
Anne glanced at her sister and smiled wanly. “I am sorry, Eliza. My mind is truly elsewhere.”
“I think even if someone were to ask you to dance, you would hardly notice. The only man you have ever paid any attention to at all is Edmund. I think you are moping due to his absence.”
Anne gasped, raising her fingers to her mouth to cover the sound as she looked at her sister. Eliza knew her too well, but she must deny it. She lifted her chin. “Really Eliza, what a dreadful thing to say.”
“Is it not true?” Eliza asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Were you, or were you not just thinking about him?”
Anne didn’t answer.
Eliza laughed. “You needn’t look so surprised, sister. You always get that soft wistful look about your eyes when you think of Edmund.”
“It is only a shame he could not join us tonight. The group feels wrong without him. Things are…unbalanced.”
Eliza leaned forward to tap Anne on the nose with her fan. “You, my dear sister, are the one who is unbalanced. You have been out of sorts ever since Emily married Alexander. Now tell me true. What is really wrong?”
Anne was thoughtful. “I suppose, I do not know where I fit in things anymore. I feel as though I have lost my dearest friend.”
“Are you jealous of Emily and the duke?” Eliza suggested with a sideways glance.
“Never!” Anne’s cheeks burned. “I never had any interest in Alexander. Not in that way. We have been friends forever, and now…I suppose our little group must change, and I do not wish it to do so.”
Eliza nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you had no interest in the duke,” Eliza said with a pointed look. “But that doesn’t mean you are not jealous.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Anne declared.
“Very well then,” Eliza said snapping open her fan and looking across the room at the new duchess. “Emily truly is the belle of the ball. It is not often the Ton sees a duchess so young and beautiful, or a duke for that matter. Their marriage has removed one of society’s most eligible young men, and a duke besides,” Eliza said. “It is easy to see why Emily is so popular of late. Why, did you notice that half the ladies of the ton were wearing yellow, after Emily wore the same shade last week?”
“I did,” Anne said with a giggle. “It looks ghastly on Lady Marley.” They both watched the dancers for several minutes, commenting on their dresses.
Anne ducked her head, shamed by her uncharitable thoughts. “I love Emily,” she said finally. “She is my dearest friend. But yes, I am perhaps a touch jealous, although I know I should not be. Emily deserves the very best and I wish her every happiness.”
“Only you wish a measure of her happiness as well,” Eliza said biting her lip. “Perhaps, if Edmund…”
“No Eliza,” Anne interrupted. “Ed is…Ed. Yes. I miss him, but not in the way you are suggesting. He has only ever been my friend. Besides, he has been preoccupied of late. Why we have barely crossed paths. You know as well as I that he is in London, but since Emily’s Ball I have not so much as laid eyes upon him. I fear he is avoiding me.”
“Surely not.”
Anne swallowed hard and let herself voice what she feared. “Perhaps he has an interest in someone else…” Anne left the sentence hanging. She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug.
“You base your supposition that he has interest in someone else on mere avoidance?” Eliza asked one eyebrow rising almost comically. “He has only ever had eyes for you, Anne.”
Anne shook her head. “As a child, perhaps. Lately, he has made no effort to see me. If he wanted to, he knows full well where to find me. Either, I am truly invisible, or he has no interest.”
“You are not invisible!” Eliza exclaimed, raising her hands in an impatient gesture. “He might be too shy…”
Anne let out a laugh that was far too loud for a ballroom and earned several disapproving sniffs from the ladies seated a short distance away. Flushing uncomfortably, Anne lowered her voice. “Edmund is many things, but shy was never one of them.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t know how to tell you how he really feels.”
Anne shook her head. “You are too much the romantic, Eliza. I envy you that sometimes.”
Eliza seemed at a loss. “I see Emily’s mother,” she said finally. “We should probably work our way back to her.”
Anne sighed and agreed. No doubt Lady Kentleworth would have something about which to complain. She seemed to constantly find fault in everyone, and most especially with her children. She fussed at Edmund as if he were a child. Maybe that was why the young man was making himself scarce. Perhaps he wished to avoid his exacting mother rather than Anne. In spite of her better judgment, the thought gave Anne a surge of hope.
Eliza bit her lip. “I received a letter from Adam today,” she said softly as if afraid the news would upset Anne further.
Anne glanced toward her sister, seeing the excitement in the girl’s eyes. Oh, but she was hardly being fair, wrapped up as she was in her own melancholy thoughts.
“Are you keeping secrets now?” Anne teasingly admonished and drew Eliza toward one of the waiting chairs. “Do tell.”
It was Eliza’s turn to blush. She looked around them and then leaned in to whisper in Anne’s ear. “I think he will propose when he next comes home.”
“Oh Eliza, how wonderful for you!”
Anne’s excited exclamation again caused several old ladies to stare, one or two accompanying their stern look with a shushing sound. Anne ignored them to throw her arms around her sister. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I am telling you,” Eliza laughed.
“I meant earlier.”
“I would have, but there seemed to be so much to do to get ready for the ball. I intended to wait until tonight. Until we went home this evening, I mean.” Eliza looked around them significantly and giggled. “This hardly seemed the place.”
Although Anne was happy for her sister, it did not seem fair to have her younger sister fairly-well spoken for when she herself had made no inroads whatsoever in the matter of marriage over the course of the Season. She stamped down the ugly head of jealousy, and gave her sister a brilliant smile. Of course, there was still time with many more balls and entertainments to come. Nonetheless, Anne smothered a sigh, hoping her sister didn’t notice the soft sound of disappointment as she leaned in to hug her a second time. “I am truly happy for you,” she whispered in Eliza’s ear.
“Oh Anne, I wish you could be this happy,” Eliza said sitting back in her chair and reaching out to hold her sister’s hand again. “Have you tried writing to him?”
“Writing to whom?” Anne asked, lost for a moment by the shift in conversation.
“Edmund.”