Dear Diary,
I don't see why I must have a coming-out ball.
Surely a dinner with our closest friends would
suffice? Or, even better, a simple note.
"Oh, Miss! You must stop touching your hair or we will have to do it all over again." Agnes, the lady's maid Angel shared with her cousin, walked over to correct two curls that had escaped the elaborate hairdo.
Angel stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the tendrils of unease crawling along her skin at the thought of having to go downstairs to face a ballroom full of people. People that would look at her and judge her, and quite possibly find her wanting. Her hand lifted to fiddle nervously with the few wayward curls her maid had artfully arranged to frame her face, only to be swatted away by Agnes. Flashing the maid a sheepish smile, she picked up the dance card her aunt had dropped off earlier and rotated it between her fingers. Would it remain empty? Part of her hoped it would, while another desperately hoped she wouldn't be a complete failure.
The dress Mrs Grey and Jessica had helped her pick out was prettier than any dress she had ever owned. Made in the popular high-waisted fashion with a green bodice of figured satin formed close to the bosom, it was beautiful, and the colour made the green of her eyes more vibrant. Short, white puff sleeves and a skirt of white crepe, trimmed at the bottom with lace, matched her pearl earrings and necklace.
"Miss," Agnes said, startling her away from the mirror and nearly making her drop the dance card. "It's time to go downstairs. The ball will begin soon."
She nodded jerkily. Not at all debating if she could lock the door and feign a headache. Not even a little.
The maid helped her tie the ribbons of the card around her wrist and gave her an encouraging smile. "You will be a great success, Miss."
"Thank you, Agnes."
Picking up a fan of carved ivory, clutching it tighter than necessary, she entered the hallway. There was no one else around. She was the last to get ready, and everyone would already be downstairs. Most of the guests wouldn't arrive for a little while longer since they would want to be fashionably late. She didn't have that luxury as much as she would have liked to. Arriving late enough, one might avoid being noticed, but it might be difficult to avoid attention during one's official coming-out ball. No, there was no escaping this. Tonight she would be introduced to London society and what her brother termed 'the marriage mart'.
She took a deep breath before walking the length of the hallway and down the stairs. Her family waited in the drawing room where they would stand to greet the arrivals in a receiving line. Then the guests would continue to the ballroom at the back of the house.
"Angel! There you are." James smiled and walked over to her as she entered. "I feared you might not be joining us."
Returning her brother's smile, she neglected to say that she would have loved that. As nervous as she was, she appreciated that he had insisted on her having a season instead of marrying Philip straight away as her aunt had suggested. If she had not been allowed this slight reprieve, she never would have met Jessica, her new best friend. Or Nathaniel. Her cheeks heated as his name came unbidden to her mind.
"You look beautiful tonight," James said with an appreciative nod as he escorted her to stand next to him at the front of the receiving line. A fact that she knew annoyed Joan, who had to stand as the last person according to rank.
She glanced over at her cousin, who stood with her mother, speaking quietly. Joan looked amazing in a dress made of marigold silk, with a scooped neckline and style that flattered her curvy body in a way that many would envy. They had apparently decided against the monstrosity of a gown they had initially looked at in the shop, instead going for something more understated that showed off her beauty rather than overpowered it. Angel was just about to compliment her cousin on her appearance when Aunt Christine finally looked at her.
"What are you wearing?" she burst out, staring at Angel's new dress.
"Oh. The dress you ordered, unfortunately, had a tear," she lied smoothly. It was something she had practised with Jessica ahead of time, and she was pleasantly surprised that her voice didn't waver. "So I picked this one instead."
"You should have worn the other one," Aunt Christine muttered, possibly unhappy that her niece didn't look like a wrung-out dishcloth for the evening. "It would have looked much better on you."
"I think Miss Grafton looks fetching," a deep voice said.
Angel's heart skipped a beat as she looked up at Nathaniel. He stood just inside the door with Jessica and Mrs Grey, and she had never been happier to see them. Dressed in the formal black evening wear he seemed to favour, he was exceptionally good-looking. His dark eyes held Aunt Christine's as he silently dared her to disagree with him in front of everyone. She was not up to the challenge.
"Naturally," she murmured. "It's just such a pity. It was a lovely dress."
Nathaniel nodded, then turning to Angel, he took her hand. Bowing formally, he placed a soft kiss above her knuckles. "Miss Grafton, good evening."
"My lord." She curtsied, cursing the breathlessness of her voice. Trying not to let her eyes linger on the handsome marquess, she collected herself and smiled at Jessica as she came to see her while Nathaniel greeted the rest of the family.
"We're early since I didn't want to leave you alone in the lion's den," Jessica said with a grin, giving her a quick hug.
"Thank you. It's much appreciated." Angel rubbed the hand Nathaniel had touched. Why was it tingling? She was wearing gloves. His lips hadn't even touched her skin.
Next, Mrs Grey came up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "You look wonderful," she whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
Sometime later, Angel and her family could finally break up the receiving line and enter the ballroom to mingle with their guests. The butler and two footmen remained in the hallway to guide any late arrivals. Angel immediately searched the room for her friend, and once she found her, she walked across the floor to see her.
"Thank you for arriving unfashionably early," she said. "It helped settle my nerves."
"Oh, it was no problem." Jessica smiled, handing her a glass of lemonade. "We thought you might need to see a friendly face or three."
"You arrived at the right moment." Angel laughed softly. "Aunt Christine was just about to berate me for wearing the wrong dress."
"You're wearing the perfect dress," Jessica said with a discreet nod towards a group of men looking in their direction. "Once the first one dares to approach, suitors will crowd you."
"Don't be ridiculous." Angel laughed, but it sounded rather hollow as the very idea of that much attention made her feel lightheaded.
"You'll see. Mark my words."
Unfortunately, Jessica was right. It didn't take long before gentlemen surrounded them both, trying to get their attention or steal a dance. Angel wasn't sure whether she was elated that she wasn't a failure or terrified by the number of eyes on her.
"She's looking beautiful tonight."
Nathaniel tore his eyes away from Angel—she was dancing with one of the young fops that hadn't left her side the entire evening—to look down at his aunt.
"Yes, she is."
"I knew she would be popular." A smug smile played on Aunt Jane's lips.
"What's your point?" He had a suspicion he wouldn't like it, whatever it was.
"Oh, nothing." She smiled blithely, then nodded towards the other side of the room. "Is that the supposed betrothed? He doesn't look pleased."
He followed her gaze to Philip Chettisham standing at the refreshment table glaring daggers at Angel and her admirers. Somehow, that improved his mood substantially.
"I don't doubt he's furious." He chuckled. "From what I've heard, he is not one who enjoys sharing."
"He should be proud that his future wife is so admired."
"Maybe that's how women feel about men." He shrugged. "But men would much rather lock their women away somewhere only they can enjoy them."
"But that's ridiculous!"
"We're very territorial."
Aunt Jane caught sight of his grin and whacked him on the shoulder with her fan. "I don't appreciate it when you pull my leg."
"But what a beautiful leg it is," a smooth voice said behind them.
"Lord Wortham!" Aunt Jane said with a delighted smile as they turned around. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight."
"Ah, I could not possibly miss an evening with my favourite lady." The handsome man who had just joined them bowed and placed a kiss on Aunt Jane's gloved hand before turning to Nathaniel. "And a good evening to you, Pensington."
Jacob Hurst, the Earl of Wortham and future Duke of Ashbrook, was one of Nathaniel's oldest and best friends. The Ashbrook estate was close to Nathaniel's own, and Wortham had been his friend since they both attended Eton as young boys.
"I didn't realise you were back in London," he said. "I haven't seen you in an age."
"Arrived back the other day," Wortham admitted as his blue eyes scanned the crowd. "I saw an invitation from Gowthorpe and thought it would only be polite of me to make an appearance. Where is the old geezer?"
"Last time I saw him, he was taking a lady out into the garden."
"Trying to live up to my reputation?" Wortham grinned.
"I doubt that's possible," Nathaniel remarked dryly. "Though he is doing an excellent job of trying."
Someone cleared their throat, and he gave his aunt a guilty look. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Jane. I forgot you are here."
"Obviously." Aunt Jane turned to Wortham. "It was lovely seeing you again, Wortham. You should come calling on us soon."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." With a graceful bow, Wortham placed yet another kiss on her hand, which had her blushing prettily.
"Must you flirt with my aunt?" Nathaniel asked with a grimace once she had left to seek out some friends.
"Why not?" A wide grin split Wortham's face. "She's a charming lady, and I'm not one to discriminate."
"Where have you been this time?" Nathaniel decided to change the subject. He had learnt early on that it was the easiest way to deal with his friend. "You've been gone quite some time."
"I spent a few weeks at a friend's estate up in the Midlands. London bores me and I have no interest in spending time in the country with my father and his condescension." Losing interest in the conversation, Wortham's gaze went back to scanning the crowd. He nudged Nathaniel, nodding towards the group of people dancing. "I say, who is the beautiful lady dancing with Chettisham?"
Nathaniel knew the answer before even looking. "She's off limits."
Wortham chuckled. "No one is off limits."
"She's an innocent, and I believe you stay as far away from them as I do."
"Well." Wortham glanced at him before looking back in Angel's direction. "I might make an exception."
"She's off limits," Nathaniel reiterated, a sick feeling in his stomach at the obvious interest displayed by his friend. Not that he should care. He didn't care. But Angel was young and innocent. She didn't stand a chance if a rake like Wortham targeted her.
"She looks available to me," Wortham argued. "Especially if she's dancing with that bounder Chettisham."
"She's Gowthorpe's sister, Angelique Grafton."
"Really?" A twinkle of something Nathaniel couldn't quite read glinted in his friend's eyes. "And is that why your eyes keep straying to her?"
Taken aback, he stared at Wortham. "What? Why... No, I've..."
It was a lie. He could not keep himself from finding her in the crowd all night. She couldn't hide tonight, and no one had escaped the fact that there was another beautiful lady available to court. Well, two, he supposed. Her cousin Joan appeared to be quite popular too, but Nathaniel only had eyes for Angel.
"I don't blame you," Wortham said. "She's beautiful."
"She's our friend's sister."
"Is that meant to mean something to me?"
"Remind me to keep you away from my sisters," Nathaniel muttered.
Wortham scoffed. "Please. I may be debauched, but I don't court children."
Giving his friend a look from the corner of his eye, Nathaniel kept his voice even. "What you do is hardly courting. And Jessica is eighteen, just a year younger than Angel, whom you're ogling as if she was a cherry tart. You missed Jessica's coming-out ball a few weeks ago."
A frown puckered Wortham's brow. "Eighteen, really? I could have sworn she was younger. Fifteen at most."
"Rain is fifteen, and I want you to stay at least ten yards away from her at any given time."
Wortham chuckled. "Time flies. I never realised. Jessica Howerty, eighteen years old and out for her first season. Imagine that!" He grinned and turned his head to look at Nathaniel, Angel all but forgotten. "Is she here tonight? Does she still hate my guts?"
"Probably. And yes, she is, but don't even think about it." That his sister despised Wortham was something that seemed to amuse the earl more than anything else, and Nathaniel didn't want his friend ruining her evening.
"I just want to reintroduce myself." Wortham was still grinning. "I've not seen her for years. Has she stepped on anyone's toes yet? Spilt lemonade on someone's new dress?"
Nathaniel glared at his friend. "My sister is not clumsy." Only ever when she was around the earl. Maybe he annoyed her so badly that she couldn't focus on where her limbs were. She wouldn't be the first. Wortham revelled in annoying people.
"If you say so," Wortham agreed easily while searching the crowd. "Now, where is your sister?"
"You had better behave if you want me to bring you to her. Or I will have your head on a platter."
"I always behave," Wortham said, but the look on his face quite betrayed his words.
Nathaniel wasn't too worried. Having grown up together, it wasn't likely that his friend would entertain the notion of seducing any of his sisters. He was much more likely to annoy them until they threw him out of the house.
~~~~~~