Page 3 of Wager for a Wife
“Nevertheless,” Mama said in a tone that brooked no argument. “It is always good to have one’s brothers there to make sure things go off smoothly at the beginning of one’s first official ball, is it not?”
“Of course, Mama,” Louisa’s brothers said almost in tandem.
“Good. It’s settled, then.”
Gibbs, the head butler at Ashworth House in London, silently materialized and helped the ladies with their wraps while Papa donned his hat and took up his walking stick. “Have a good evening, your lordship, milady,” he said, opening the door for them. “And the very best to you, Lady Louisa.”
That was quite a speech, coming from Gibbs. “Thank you, Gibbs,” Louisa said, touched.
Papa turned back to her brothers. “We shall see you two shortly, then.”
“Don’t worry, Father,” Alex said. “Additionally, I shall introduce Louisa to every gentleman of my acquaintance this evening and then threaten them with bodily harm if they should choose not to invite her to dance, regardless of the menacing glances they get from the illustrious Earl of Kerridge.”
“Alex!” Louisa exclaimed with a gasp.
“It would certainly add spice to an otherwise tedious occasion,” Anthony remarked.
“Not too much violence, please,” Papa said. “Very well. Let’s be on our way, Lady Ashworth, Louisa. The Wilmington ball awaits, and your mother seems to think it’s time you got yourself a husband.”
“I didn’t put it quite like that, Ashworth,” Mama said. “What I actually said was more along the lines of taking your time and choosing wisely, Louisa. We want you to be happy, above all else.”
Louisa had made several good friends and already had more beaux than she could have imagined, one or two of whom she found quite interesting. She really had no idea what Lord Kerridge’s intentions were for her. The earl had paid her particular attention the past few weeks, and his doing so had generated a bit of a buzz amongst the ton, Louisa knew, but he had made no declaration to her of any sort, regardless of his attention to her. It all seemed very confusing at times.
She needn’t place her hopes or expectations solely upon the Earl of Kerridge, however. There were parties and routs and musicales and, oh, lots of events to look forward to and many, many young gentlemen and ladies with whom to become acquainted. She would concentrate on enjoying herself, making friends, and practicing her flirting skills. She would stop fretting about marriage, starting now. And if the Earl of Kerridge decided to make an offer, she would consider it. Of course she would.
“Thank you, Mama,” Louisa said. “But you needn’t concern yourself unnecessarily. After growing up with these two for brothers, everyone else will be an improvement, by comparison.”
Her father barked out a laugh while he handed her mother into the carriage. Her brothers, who stood in the open doorway in order to bid them farewell, also laughed.
“Touché, little sister,” Alex said, offering her a jaunty salute.
“Adieu, Lady Cumulus,” Anthony added, grinning. “We shall see you soon and vow to do our very best not to be embarrassed by the puffiness of your gown. Try not to rain this evening.”
Louisa waved to them and climbed into the carriage, straightening her gown once she was seated. Her not-at-all-puffy gown, the silly wretches. Oh, but she loved her brothers, terrible teases that they were. She recalled a time when she was eight that she’d managed to retaliate against their constant teasing by sneaking frogs into their beds. That had been one of her crowning accomplishments, especially when she’d been able to hear Anthony shrieking from his bedroom. It hadn’t mattered that she’d gotten a talking to from Papa or that her brothers had tossed her into the lake the following day.
She settled back into the comfortably upholstered seat of her father’s carriage as the horses leapt into action. As they moved forward, she gazed out the window at the fashionable homes of Mayfair, appreciating the architecture, the flower gardens, and the lovely weather, her mind humming with excitement, a little apprehension—and hope.
* * *
The Wilmington ball was always one of the first of the Season, and Lady Wilmington, Louisa knew, went to great lengths to assure its success each year. Louisa could see rows of carriages awaiting their turns to deposit their passengers at the door, confirming that the ball was going to be a crush. The cream of Society milled about on a red carpet, of all things, waiting to enter the Wilmingtons’ expansive London home and greet their host and hostess before making their way to the ballroom.
Soon it was their turn. Louisa exited the carriage, assisted by her father, who’d preceded her, and then waited, pulling her wrap a bit more tightly around her, as her mother descended the carriage steps. The sky held the last vestiges of twilight, and the dewy spring air was chilly, creating a blurry halo around the moon in an otherwise cloudless sky.
It appeared Louisa’s dress was the only cloud venturing out tonight.
In contrast to the nighttime sky, the entrance hall of the Wilmingtons’ residence was ablaze with light, and Louisa found herself having to blink until her eyes adjusted. A grand chandelier hung overhead, and silver sconces adorned the walls. Perfumes and beeswax mingled together, creating a heady fragrance, and the hum of conversation echoed through the marble hall. The gowns and turbans and plumes of the ladies provided a vivid counterpoint to the formal black the gentlemen wore. Louisa shivered with excitement and anticipation and a touch of nervousness as well.
After what seemed an age to Louisa, she and her parents finally made their way through the crush to Lord and Lady Wilmington.
“I daresay you are destined to break many a poor gentleman’s heart this Season, Lady Louisa,” Lord Wilmington said. He was a short, round man with a genial nature, and Louisa had always liked him. “What a dashing young lady you have become. But then, you were always a pretty little thing.”
“You are too kind, Lord Wilmington,” Louisa said, offering a demure curtsy.
“Your gown is exquisite,” Lady Wilmington said. She was as short and round as her husband, but the plumes attached to the turban she wore gave her a decided advantage in height over her husband this evening. She leaned in closer to Louisa, causing the purple silk of her gown to rustle and the feathers atop her head to flutter precariously. “I rather like the gauzy fabric, my dear. Rather fluffy and cloud-like. Very becoming.”
Louisa’s hand darted to her bodice. Had her exasperating brothers managed to arrive ahead of her? Had her mother said something to Lady Wilmington? They couldn’t have; they wouldn’t have. Would they?
She looked carefully into Lady Wilmington’s face but could see only the same good-hearted amiability the lady always exuded. “Thank you, Lady Wilmington,” she managed to say in a rather strangled voice.