Dear Diary,
Sometimes I wish I could say what's on my mind.
That I could speak up for myself.
But what good has wishing ever done anyone?
"How was your ride in the park?" Aunt Christine asked the moment Angel entered the drawing room.
"Very pleasant, thank you." She smiled, determined not to rise to the bait. Sitting down on the sofa opposite her aunt, she took a biscuit from the plate set out on the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
The older woman remained quiet for a short while but could not contain herself. "Did they catch up with you?"
She gave her aunt an innocent look. "Who?"
"Nothing." With a sigh, her aunt lifted her tea to her lips.
Angel did the same so she could hide her smile. Making her aunt believe her scheme had failed, even for a brief moment, was a petty—but sweet—revenge. Unfortunately, it didn't last nearly as long as she would have liked, as Joan returned not much later.
"Oh, Mama!" Her cousin sank down on the sofa next to her mother with a dreamy sigh. "Lord Pensington is the most handsome man I've ever seen. Those dark eyes!"
Aunt Christine threw an annoyed look in Angel's direction as she realised she'd been lied to, but turned to her daughter. "He is very handsome, indeed. We must ensure that we invite him to your coming-out ball, and you shall look your very best."
"The marquess and his family are already invited," Angel muttered, receiving glum stares. "As he is an old friend of James's, he would have been included in the first set of invitations sent out."
"Very well then," Aunt Christine said. "Tomorrow we are due at the modiste's. We must find an exceptional dress for Joan to wear to the ball." After a derisive look in Angel's direction, she added, "And something for you as well."
The cousins' coming-out ball had been planned for quite some time already, with only the final preparations to be done now that the Grants had arrived in London. Angel rather dreaded the occasion as the idea of having everyone's attention on her nearly made her break out in hives. At least in this, Joan's need to be the centre of attention worked in her favour. She could hide behind her cousin and everyone would be happy.
"I do believe Lord Pensington might have taken a fancy to me," Joan gleefully said. "I would be a perfect marchioness, don't you think?"
After listening to her aunt and cousin discuss the merits of catching a wealthy and titled husband for some time, Angel excused herself and retired to her room. One could only listen to their chatter for so long without contracting a headache. Maybe she would have felt differently if she had her own mother here for the season. Perhaps then she would have sat in the drawing room discussing the handsome marquess over a cup of tea and biscuits.
A pang of longing shot through her at the thought of a world she would never experience. With both her parents gone, she would never have anyone other than the Grants and her brother. Picking up her diary, she sat down on the window seat where she could look out over the garden behind the house. Once she married Philip, she would have her own family. Children to fill the void. She'd always wanted a big family, and getting married would give her that chance. So why did the thought not make her happy?
The next day, Angel found herself inside the shop of a modiste—a Madam Beauvain—on Bond Street together with her aunt and cousin. An assistant to the modiste was showing them the latest fashion plates and fabrics. While Aunt Jane and Joan excitedly discussed the possibilities for the dresses with the assistant, Angel was bored to tears. Her aunt had suggested a horrible pastel lemon-coloured fabric for her dress and would not hear her protests that the colour made her look positively sickly.
"Nonsense! Joan looks wonderful in yellow, and so will you," had been her aunt's reply, which was all very well since Joan had the complexion to wear yellow. With her pale skin, Angel usually looked like a person risen from their deathbed when wearing the particular light pastels her aunt wanted to buy for her.
"Oh, Mama! That dress," Joan suddenly exclaimed, pointing at one of the fashion plates.
Angel peered around her aunt's imposing form to have a look, only to see an overdone dress that had more details than it knew what to do with. She supposed it would serve Joan's purpose in catching a husband. A man would only need to look at that dress before fainting from the horror. Then Joan could marry him while he was still lying unconscious on the floor.
Mumbling an excuse, which probably no one heard, she left them discussing the atrocious dress and stepped outside the shop onto Bond Street to get some fresh air. Her mood had been rather foul since the previous day and she needed a moment away from her relatives. A stroll down the street ought to be just the thing to ease her mood. She turned around, only to bump into someone's hard chest and almost lost her balance. She would have fallen had the man she bumped into not caught her elbow and steadied her.
"Angel!"
Looking up, she stared into Nathaniel Howerty's dark eyes. Jessica stood next to him, and she was the one who had called out her name.
"My apologies." Angel carefully extracted her elbow from Nathaniel's grip, since he hadn't deemed it prudent to release her. "I am so very clumsy sometimes. I really ought to look more carefully before I walk."
"It's those damned bonnets." Nathaniel motioned towards her quite fashionable headwear. "They're just as effective as blinders on horses."
"Cursing in front of ladies?" Jessica raised an eyebrow but wasn't able to hide a teasing grin. "What has happened to your manners?"
"My apologies." Nathaniel executed an elaborate bow. "I did not mean to offend your delicate ears."
She ignored her brother's sarcastic apology and looked at Angel. "Are you here alone?"
"No, my aunt and cousin are at the modiste's."
Jessica peered inside. "What are they doing? Buying more bonnets to keep us from seeing what's around us?"
"We're looking for something to wear at our coming-out ball."
"Then what are you doing outside on the street?" Nathaniel asked with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes. "I don't believe they have a lot of dresses out here."
Her cheeks heated. "I needed some fresh air. It is very stuffy inside."
Neither of the Howertys looked as if they believed her. She sighed. "Very well. Their chattering was giving me a headache, and my aunt is determined to see me in a lemony pastel dress."
"Lemon?" Jessica's nose scrunched up as if she smelled something foul. "That wouldn't suit you at all."
"I know. I suspect that is why she wants me to wear it."
A smile spread over Jessica's face and her eyes took on a dangerous light.
"Oh no." Nathaniel groaned. "That's how they all look when they have some mischief in mind."
"Let your aunt buy you that dress," Jessica said. "Then you and I will go shopping tomorrow to find you something you like. Tell your aunt you're invited to tea at my house, and then we will go to another modiste together."
She wanted to shout yes, but the thought of her aunt's rebuke tempered her words. "I... I'm not sure. Aunt Christine will be so mad if I show up at the ball in the wrong dress."
"So?" Jessica shrugged, apparently caring little for her worries. "What is she going to do? Boot you from the house?"
The idea was incredibly tempting. She hated wearing the unflattering dresses her aunt put her in. And Jessica was right, there wasn't much Aunt Christine could do to her. At least not while in London in the presence of James. In the country, she could make Angel's life hell, but here? She wouldn't dare to cause too much unpleasantness when James had the power to throw her out on her rear if he so chose. He was the title holder. The viscount. She nodded.
"Let's do it."
"Wonderful!" Jessica beamed a smile at her. "I shall see you tomorrow."
"Yes, thank you. I had better go back inside before they miss me."
They made quick farewells before Angel entered the modiste's again. Her heart felt lighter, and she allowed her aunt to have her fitted for the lemon-coloured dress she had no intention of ever wearing. Guilt niggled at her for letting the modiste sew up something she wouldn't use, but she could probably give it to Joan. Her cousin would hardly say no to another piece of clothing.
"I think maybe this one," Jessica said the next day as they stood inside Madame Dautry's popular shop looking at fashion plates.
Mrs Grey picked up the plate and shook her head. "No, I don't like the neckline."
The Howertys' lovely aunt had heard about Angel's dilemma and agreed to come along to help the two young ladies find a suitable dress for the ball. Something Angel was grateful for as the older woman's taste in clothing was impeccable.
"I would prefer a neckline that isn't too scooped," Angel said from her vantage point on top of a stool where an assistant was taking her measurements. "I don't have enough to fill it out."
"But you want to be dazzling gentlemen with your charms," Jessica quipped, somehow able to keep her face straight.
"Not those charms," Mrs Grey said with a bemused smile. "Miss Grafton has so many other charms, and we don't want the gentlemen to miss those because they were too busy staring at her bosom."
"Why not? All the other young ladies seem to do so."
"That's because they have no other charms," Mrs Grey muttered, only to look startled when Jessica laughed. A look of dismay crossed her face. "Did I just say that out loud?"
"I'm afraid so." Jessica grinned.
Mrs Grey sighed and shuffled some fashion plates around on the table. "Well... Oh! This one." She pulled a plate out from underneath a pile and showed it to Jessica, who nodded her approval.
"May I see?" Angel stepped down from the stool since the assistant had finished. She looked at the image as Jessica brought it over to her and smiled. That was exactly the dress for her.
They proceeded to pick out the fabrics and then they returned to Pensington House, where tea and biscuits were quickly served to them in the drawing room.
"Are you excited about your coming-out ball?" Mrs Grey asked as the three women were all sipping their tea.
"Dreading it is probably more accurate," Angel admitted with a sheepish smile. "I'm rather shy and large crowds make me anxious. The thought of everyone being there to see me and Joan is terrifying."
"You will do fine." Mrs Grey gave her an encouraging smile.
"Just make sure there are no potted plants nearby or she might disappear." She recognised the droll voice instantly and focused on her tea to keep her head from whipping around to stare at its handsome owner.
"Nathaniel." Jessica smiled. "Why don't you join us for some tea and biscuits?"
"Don't mind if I do." He sat down on a chair as he surveyed the offerings on the table.
A maid brought in another teacup and an additional plate of biscuits. He patiently waited for his aunt to pour him a cup of tea and add a lump of sugar before he took a biscuit.
"What is this about plants?" Mrs Grey asked as she put the teapot back down after refilling her own cup.
Angel threw Nathaniel a threatening look, but he paid her no heed.
"Our young friend, Miss Grafton, has an uncommon urge to hide behind potted plants during balls."
"Really?" Mrs Grey gave her a curious look. "Is it truly that bad?"
"I wasn't hiding," Angel muttered. "I was merely—"
"Concealing yourself?" Nathaniel supplied helpfully, which made Jessica choke on her tea.
"No." Angel glared at Jessica, who was trying to hide her mirth. "I was enjoying a spot of privacy."
"Ah. Well, you had me fooled." Nathaniel took a sip of his tea, then made a face and added another lump of sugar.
Mrs Grey frowned. "Your teeth will rot if you keep on doing that."
"Teasing innocent young ladies?"
"Drinking tea with more sugar than tea." She gave him an exasperated look. "But refraining from the other would do you good as well."
"But how else am I to amuse myself?"
"I'm sure you can find a way," Mrs Grey remarked dryly.
He grinned, showing without a doubt that there was nothing wrong with his teeth. Something moved inside her as Angel saw the teasing look in his dark eyes. A dozen butterflies fluttered around without direction. Apparently, he was one of the most sought-after bachelors in London, and she could well believe it. Ladies must be falling at his feet, begging for his attention.
"We picked out a wonderful dress for Angel today," Jessica said with a smile. "She will have to fend suitors off at her ball."
"I'm sure she will," Nathaniel agreed with an unreadable look in Angel's direction.
Her cheeks heated and for a moment, their eyes met and the butterfly wings inside froze as if they too were mesmerised by this man. She nearly jumped out of her seat when Mrs Grey cleared her throat.
"More tea, anyone?"
~~~~~~