parlor.
Caroline and Emma were by now acquainted with most of the girls there and greeted the friends they had made during the pre-Season activities, and they were introduced to those individuals they had not met before. There was much kissing, hugging, and complimenting of pretty pastel dresses. With her outgoing ways, friendly manner, and easy sense of humor, Emma was a particular favorite among the girls. On the other hand, Caroline, who had not been able to participate wholeheartedly in the discussion of beaux and needed to keep herself as unobtrusive as possible, had kept a low profile at social functions, and because of this the other girls perceived her as rather bookish and shy.
The first ball of the Season was the main topic of conversation, and the room was soon filled with girlish chatter and laughter.
Emma, in her element, asked animatedly, “Did anyone else dance with Arthur Kingston? He is simply detestable. At the end of our waltz, I had to practically peel him off me!”
“Well, he spilled punch all over my new, white gloves. The ones I got in Paris! They’re completely ruined,” wailed Betsy Warring, a plump blonde with a wide mouth.
Mary Ellen Talbot confided in a heated whisper, “My brother warned me to stay away from him, because he’s rather fast.”
As talk of the repulsive Arthur Kingston escalated, Lucy Greenville, a slim girl with reddish hair and an impudent nose, whispered urgently to Madeline Maxwell, “She’s here!”
“Who?” asked Madeline, somewhat puzzled, idly twirling a blue silk ribbon that was tied in her yellow hair. A little bored when she was not dominating the topic of conversation, she wondered if one of the girls would be spirited enough to question her about her break with the duke or if she would have to bring it up herself.
“The one I told you about,” Lucy explained with impatience. “The one on the balcony.”
Instantly alert, Madeline lowered her voice and glanced suspiciously around the crowded room. “Are you sure?”
Lucy spoke in a dramatic whisper. “I was just introduced to her, and I’m sure.”
“Who is she?” Madeline demanded.
Nonchalantly, Lucy picked up her teacup and murmured, “Don’t look now, but she’s sitting by the window, wearing the light green dress.”
Of course, Madeline looked immediately and was surprised at what she saw. She had met Caroline Armstrong at an afternoon tea two weeks ago and instantly dismissed her as a little nobody from the country, even though her grandfather had been, and now her uncle was, the current Earl of Glenwood. Caroline struck her as somewhat different, shy, and academic, not a girl she would want to bring into her close circle of intimate friends, like Lucy. She didn’t take Caroline seriously then and subsequently paid her little attention.
Now she regarded her with a critical eye. Madeline noticed Caroline’s curling golden hair, highlighted by the sunlight filtering through the window behind her, and her pretty face with clear, smooth skin. Her pale green tea gown was filled out nicely, and the color accentuated the green in her eyes. Madeline at once felt threatened, a feeling with which she was very unfamiliar.
Was this really the girl that Lucy saw holding hands with the duke on the balcony of her house the night of the ball? It didn’t make sense though. The duke could have only just met her, so how could they be familiar enough to be holding hands? Besides, he couldn’t possibly be interested in a boring girl like Caroline Armstrong! Madeline had no recollection of seeing Caroline that night, but then again she was too preoccupied pretending to be in love with Oliver Parkridge to notice anything else. However, Madeline vividly recalled when Lucy Greenville told her that she had seen a very pretty girl on the balcony with the Duke of Woodborough, holding hands and speaking rather intimately.
Madeline whispered incredulously, “Caroline Armstrong?”
Lucy nodded her head in affirmation.
“You’re positive?”
“Positive.”
Madeline stared directly at Caroline. Caroline glanced up and stared back. For a moment, they regarded each other warily, then Madeline made her move.
There was a slight lull in the conversation, and Madeline inquired rather loudly, “I don’t recall seeing you dance at the ball, Caroline. Where did you keep yourself all night?”
The other girls glanced from Madeline to Caroline, wondering why the popular Madeline would show any interest at all in the decidedly unpopular Caroline Armstrong.
“I wasn’t feeling very well and spent most of the evening with my grandmother.” Caroline looked directly at Madeline, her gaze unwavering.
“Didn’t you dance with anyone special or perhaps go for a walk with someone?” Madeline’s words dripped with false sweetness, her blue eyes wide with innocence, daring Caroline to answer. “Surely you didn’t spend the entire evening sitting with your grandmother, a pretty girl like you?”
The other girls sensed the undercurrent of tension between Caroline and Madeline, and everyone was waiting for Caroline to answer.
“Of course I danced,” she responded airily. “I danced with Edward Winslow and even Arthur Kingston.”
“Madeline, is it true that you turned down the Duke of Woodborough?” Emma interrupted demurely, casually smoothing the ruffles of her yellow muslin dress.
Madeline turned her icy gaze toward Emma while Emma stared indifferently back at her. As she scrutinized Emma’s silky chestnut hair, flashing hazel eyes, and pretty face, Madeline realized that she had completely underestimated the Armstrong sisters. A mistake she would not repeat. She had been expecting this question all afternoon and as yet, no one had been brave enough to ask her about it directly. Madeline knew that everyone had learned of her break with the duke on the night of the ball, but not even her closest friends had heard her prepared speech of why she turned him down. Well, now is as good a time as any, Madeline thought to herself, begrudgingly grateful to Emma Armstrong for getting the subject out in the open.
She stood up, with her hands on her hips, and smiled conspiratorially at the room, as if letting them in on a special secret, and whispered dramatically, “It’s true. I turned him down!”
There was a collective gasp, and with a sense of excitement, the girls realized they were finally going to hear what they had been waiting for all afternoon.
“Oh, but why, Madeline?” asked Betsy Warring, truly amazed that anyone could possibly say no to the handsome and charming duke.
“How could you?” marveled Elizabeth Dishington, her black curls bouncing as she shook her head in disbelief.
“I’m simply not in love with him.” Madeline paused for effect, as if that fact alone explained everything. Just as she had rehearsed in front of her mirror for the past two days, she continued, “The duke was crushed, absolutely crushed, when I told him that I couldn’t possibly marry anyone I wasn’t in love with. He confessed—”
“How could you not be in love with him?” interrupted Mary Ellen, dreamily.
“Because I’m not!” Madeline snapped, stamping her foot and glaring at Mary Ellen for interrupting her performance. “So…” She clasped her hands together against her chest as if in anguish. “He confessed
