looking all around them for the errant fan, so she did not notice the approach of two women until her aunt’s sharp intake of breath alerted her to something unusual and she looked up from her search. Lady Haughston was walking toward them, and beside her was the beaming hostess of the party, Lady Welcombe herself.
“Lady Woodley. Sir, um…”
“Roger,” her uncle supplied helpfully.
“Of course. Sir Roger. How are you? I hope the two of you are enjoying my little party,” Lady Welcombe said, gesturing toward the great hall stuffed with people. Her deprecating smile indicated that she realized the humor in her statement.
“Oh, yes, my lady. ’Tis a wonderful rout. The finest of the Season, I’ll warrant. I was just remarking to Sir Roger that it was the most splendid thing we had attended yet.”
“Well, the Season is still young,” Lady Welcombe replied modestly. “One can only hope that it will still be remembered by July.”
“Oh, indeed, I am sure it will.” Aunt Blanche hurried on to compliment the flowers, the candles, the decorations.
Even the hostess herself appeared to grow bored with this effusive praise, and at the first opportunity, Lady Welcombe jumped in to say, “Pray, allow me to introduce you to Lady Haughston.” She turned to the woman beside her. “Lady Haughston, this is Sir Roger Woodley and his wife Lady Blanche, and these are…uh, their lovely daughters.”
“How do you do?” Lady Haughston said, extending one slender white hand.
“Oh, my lady! This is indeed an honor!” Aunt Blanche’s face was flushed with excitement. “I am so pleased to meet you. Pray, allow me to introduce you to our daughters, Georgiana and Margaret. Girls, say hello to Lady Haughston.”
Lady Haughston smiled perfunctorily at each of the girls, but her eyes moved on to Constance, standing slightly behind the others. “And you are?”
“Constance Woodley, my lady,” Constance said with a brief curtsey.
“I am sorry,” Aunt Blanche said with a twitter. “Miss Woodley is my husband’s niece, living with us since her poor father’s death some years ago.”
“Please accept my condolences,” Lady Haughston said, adding after a slight pause, “on your father’s death.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Constance saw the light of amusement in the other woman’s deep blue eyes, and she could not help but wonder if Lady Haughston had not meant to imply something else altogether. She suppressed the smile such a thought brought to her lips and returned Lady Haughston’s gaze politely.
Lady Welcombe moved away, but to Constance’s surprise, Lady Haughston remained with them for a few moments, making polite small talk. It surprised her even more when Lady Haughston said that she must leave and turned to Constance, adding, “Won’t you take a stroll around the room with me, Miss Woodley?”
Constance blinked with surprise, too startled for a moment to speak. Then she moved forward with alacrity, saying, “Yes, I would like that very much, thank you.”
She remembered to cast a look at her aunt for permission, though Constance knew that she would have gone with Lady Haughston even if Aunt Blanche had forbidden it. Fortunately, her aunt only nodded somewhat dazedly at her, and Constance moved forward to join the other woman.
Linking her arm through Constance’s, Francesca began to stroll around the edge of the enormous room, chatting casually.
“I vow, one can scarcely find someone one knows in the crush. ’Tis well nigh impossible to meet anyone,” Lady Haughston commented.
Constance smiled at the other woman in response. She was still too startled by Lady Haughston’s interest in her to relax, and she could think of nothing to say, even the most commonplace of comments. She could not imagine what one of the lights of London Society could want from her. She was neither proud enough nor foolish enough to think that Francesca had singled her out because she had realized with a brief glance that Constance was worthy of her friendship.
“Is this your first Season?” Francesca went on.
“Yes, my lady. My father was quite ill when it came time for me to make my come-out,” Constance explained. “He passed away a few years later.”
“Ah, I see.” Constance stole a quick glance at her companion. There was a shrewd look in Lady Haughston’s eyes that told her that she understood far more than Constance had said. That she could envision the slow passage of time spent caring for her father, the days of boredom and sadness, interspersed with the rush of hard work and turmoil when his disease took a bad turn.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Lady Haughston said kindly. After a moment, she added, “And so now you live with your aunt and uncle? And she is sponsoring you. That is kind of her.”
Constance felt the heat of a blush rising in her cheeks. She could scarcely deny the words, for it would seem ungrateful, but to agree that her aunt acted out of kindness was more than she could do. She said merely, “Yes. Well, her daughters are that age now, and so…”
“I am sure you are a great help to her,” Lady Haughston replied obliquely.
Constance glanced at her again and had to smile. Lady Haughston was no fool; she understood quite well why Aunt Blanche had brought Constance along, not for Constance’s benefit, but for her own. Though Constance wondered what Lady Haughston was up to, she could not help but like her. There was a warmth in her that was all-too-frequently missing in the denizens of the Ton.
“Still,” Lady Haughston went on, “you must take time to enjoy your visit to London, as well.”
“I have visited some of the museums,” Constance replied. “I quite enjoyed it.”
“Did you? Well, that is very well and good, I’m sure, but I was thinking more along the lines of, oh, say, shopping.”
“Shopping?” Constance repeated, more at sea in this conversation than ever. “For what, my lady?”
“Oh, I never limit myself to one thing,” Lady Haughston replied, her lips quirking up into a smile that gave her the faint look of a self-satisfied feline. “That would be far too dull. I always set out with the idea of exploring whatever is out there. Perhaps you would like to accompany me tomorrow.”
Constance looked at her in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”
“On a shopping expedition,” the other woman said, a chuckle escaping her. “You must not look at me so. I promise you, it will not be horrifying.”
“I—I’m sorry.” Constance felt herself blushing again. “You must think me a dolt. It is simply that your kind offer was unexpected. Indeed, I would like very much to go with you—though I fear I should forewarn you, I am a poor shopper.”
“No need to worry,” Lady Haughston replied, her eyes twinkling. “I can assure you that I am expert enough at it for both of us.”
Constance could not keep from smiling at the other woman. Whatever was going on, the prospect of a day away from her aunt and cousins was delightful. And she was much too human not to feel a certain low satisfaction at the thought of the look on her aunt’s face when
