The Season Standard—the Daily Chronicle of Consequence
Our infamous Earl of W— is making quite the recovery. Dashing as ever, he escorted the Dowager Duchess of V— to a dinner party of so little importance that it is hardly worth the mention. The fascination lies in the sudden emergence of whispers, naming W— as a potential candidate for the Original!
Of course, we must not forget our dear Lord E— who has been a favorite for many weeks . . .
Adeline marveled at the swift alteration in the ton’s opinion of Wolford. Because of the daily accounts in the Standard, even her family had begun to receive invitations in the days that followed. Most surprisingly was one from Lady Falksworth, who’d slighted them at the opera. Apparently, Juliet had been correct. Society could now show favor to the family who had aided Wolford instead of branding them with the stamp of ruination.
Tonight, she attended a party at Lord Tarlston’s. Adeline was pleased to be better received now that her reputation had been repaired. At least for the time. There was no telling what one unfavorable report of Wolford’s activity might do. It was still odd to her that the collective thoughts of the ton were so eager to jump to conclusions, vacillating from one extreme to the other. If they vilified Wolford, then her reputation was sullied. And if they esteemed him, then she was a veritable vestal virgin.
Given her white satin gown, she certainly looked the part this evening.
Little did they know how scandalous her thoughts had become since she’d met Liam.
“Are you feeling warm, dear?” Mother asked, mistaking an errant blush for an illness. She plucked at the fingertips of her glove as if she meant to strip it off and press a hand to Adeline’s forehead.
Adeline did not doubt that she would too. And while standing in the parlor with guests milling about.
She took Mother’s hand in an affectionate squeeze and lowered it. “I am feeling perfectly content.”
That motherly indigo gaze still scrutinized her. “I don’t believe our host waters down his wine as he ought.”
“I drank only one glass.” And a half, she thought, remembering how efficiently the footman had refilled her goblet in between courses. She also had a wonderfully handsome table companion by the name of Lord Ellery. The viscount was affable as well, and there was a certain soulfulness in his eyes that spoke of a sincerity, which many of those she’d met lacked.
Even with his wonderful qualities, however, she had not felt drawn to him. Not even a little. Her skin did not tingle at the very thought of him. The study of his mouth while he ate did not stir her. She never once imagined her lips on his.
Her lips, so it seemed, were only eager for the press of one single gentleman. And he was not even in attendance.
“I wonder why Wolford did not attend,” Mother said, mirroring Adeline’s thoughts. “His aunt is here, so I imagine he received an invitation.”
The dowager duchess was across the room, conversing with Juliet and Ivy. In the hall before dinner, Ivy explained that her husband had been distracted by one of his “brilliant inventions” and, therefore, did not attend. But that did not stop Ivy from glowing at the mere mention of him.
“Perhaps he is with his cousin, the duke,” Adeline said, hoping that was correct. Yet a dark jealousy churned in her stomach. He could very well be at another party. Perhaps even like the masquerade he’d attended the night of his attack. Which shouldn’t matter to her. She knew the type of man Liam was. He could very well be engaged in an assignation, his lips on someone else’s mouth right this instant.
“Are you certain you are feeling well?”
Adeline realized she’d pressed her fingertips to her lips as if she were trying to capture the fleeting essence he’d left behind. She nodded to her mother. Noticing her probing stare, however, she quickly looked for a distraction. “Oh look, Father and the other gentlemen have finished their port.”
Mother turned her head in his direction and smiled. “I wonder if anyone will play the pianoforte this evening. After all, one would assume the reason we gathered here with the instrument in the room would be for entertainment. Perhaps you should be the first. Your father would love to hear his favorite piece of music.”
Adeline wasn’t certain that was proper etiquette in this circumstance. Thinking of Juliet’s prior instruction, she said, “Perhaps we should inquire with our hostess.”
But before she could, Miss Ashbury sat down at the pianoforte, arranged her skirts, cleared her throat with a slight cough, and then began to play. Adeline felt her mood darken again. From her previous encounter with Miss Ashbury and her bosom companion, Miss Leeds, Adeline knew that both young women were all affectation and little substance. Even a young woman from the country could see the difference.
“She plays beautifully,” Mother commented. “Perhaps we could sit near our friends. I do believe the settee across from the dowager duchess is now available.”
Mother began walking, intercepting Father along the way, but when Adeline noticed that the hem of her gown was caught on the toe of her half boot, she paused to tug it free. By the time she lifted her gaze, Miss Leeds had stepped in front of her.
The fair-haired young woman offered a thin smile reminiscent of a snake in need of a charmer’s flute to return to its basket. “Miss Pimm, I am told you hail from a small hamlet in the countryside.”
Adeline nodded, both in answer and by way of greeting her cordially, if not carefully. “Yes. Boswickshire has been home to my family for generations.”
“It is such a small world we live in, for my family has a scullery maid in our employ who also claims such a birthplace. Perhaps you know her.” Miss Leeds clasped her hands before her and smugly pursed her lips. At the same time, Miss Ashbury offered a trilling of the keys. But to Adeline it was like the rattle of a snake’s tail.
Alarm jolted through her, but she made every effort to conceal it. She fixed her own smile in place on an indrawn breath. “With fewer than two hundred villagers living there, I’m certain we have met.”
“Are you not curious about her family name? Perhaps I could pass on a good word from you. Of course, under different circumstances I wouldn’t think to inquire. However, rumor has it that your family is rather unconventional.” Miss Leeds dropped her voice to a whisper and slithered closer. “Tell me—is it true that you arrived in London without your servants? And that you undertook Lord Wolford’s care on your own?”
Adeline saw a trap yawning before her. If she answered any of the questions posed to her, others would likely arise; whispers would abound no matter how careful she was. Though, quite honestly, she didn’t see that it was any business of Miss Leeds. “We are so new to town, I was not aware that you were introduced to my parents. I will be certain to pass on a good word from you. Unless you wish to tell them yourself. We could join them now.”
“You are too kind, but I am needed at the pianoforte.” Her smile thinned as she inclined her head and slithered away without another word.
Unfortunately, that was not the last encounter that Adeline had with Miss Leeds.
Later that evening, both Miss Leeds and Miss Ashbury ambushed her in the retiring room.
Adeline was adjusting the laces of her half boot, her back to the door, when they both walked into the room. Hurriedly, she tried to conceal the thick cork sole.
“Why, Miss Pimm, I would know the back of your head anywhere. I dare say I have never seen a braid on a woman in public past the age of her debut,” Miss Leeds said with great hauteur.
“Perhaps Miss Pimm longs to cling to her girlhood years,” Miss Ashbury said. “Is that the reason you waited so long to come to town for a Season?”
“Or perhaps she wears her hair styled so simply because she does not wish to strain her friendship with her maid. Assuming, of course, that you have a maid, Miss Pimm. Or does your mother style your hair?”
Adeline held her ground, though she had little experience dealing with mean-spirited people. Those who pitied her on sight usually never sought to degrade her character and for them, she employed a calm, assuring demeanor. Somehow, she doubted that would work in this circumstance.
“I have a maid,” Adeline said, turning to face them. “She is most excellent in fashioning various hairstyles. Since we have only seen each other at two social events, I am certain you haven’t had the opportunity to witness the wide variety of her skills.”
“Oh yes, now that you mention it, I do notice that your hair is woven with baby’s breath, whereas at Lady Strandfellow’s it was interlaced with ribbons.” She grinned with a look of oh, yes, I noticed and found you lacking! before continuing. “I also recall hearing a whisper about you only knowing one dance.”
Miss Ashbury feigned a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “A country dance, no less, where the elegance of . . . footwork . . . is of little concern.”
The pair of them glanced down to the hem of Adeline’s skirts. She knew that her half boot was concealed, but all the same, she felt as if she were standing completely nude in the retiring room. It suddenly became clear that Miss Leeds had learned a great deal from the servant who hailed from Boswickshire.
Adeline stiffened, preparing for the worst.
Miss Leeds’s eyes flashed in revulsion. “Once I learned of your singular skill, I did mention your name to my lady’s maid for a laugh. She mentioned your name below stairs, and sure enough, one of our sculleries knew of you. All about you, in fact, and your deformity.”
“It is no wonder your parents kept you hidden in the country.” Miss Ashbury sneered. “I imagine they took great pains to ensure you appeared to be like all the other debutantes, but you cannot hide a deformity, can you?”
This was the moment Adeline had been dreading all along. Her worst fear coming to fruition. And as she stood there, taking their jabs, feeling more freakish by the moment, she realized that this was her moment. The one she’d been waiting for. The chance to prove that she was just like every other debutante.
But she wasn’t like every other debutante. She was different. And quite unexpectedly, she was grateful for that fact.
“No, I cannot,” she answered, straightening her shoulders. “While some deformities are only on the outside, I have just now discovered that the ugliest are those that lie beneath flesh and bone.”
She was prepared to walk out of the room with her head held high. But Miss Leeds had a little more venom in her fangs. And unfortunately, poison hit the mark.
“Which only proves how little you understand your purpose,” Miss Leeds hissed. “A debutante’s goal is to secure a husband. The best you could hope for is to find a man who takes pity on you.”