found little pleasure in the parties except to look at the beautiful rooms and lovely dresses, or to observe the foibles of the various partygoers. It was an amusement that wore thin, and she often grew bored and wished she were at home reading.
During the days, she was equally bored. She had become accustomed from an early age to running her father’s household. When his estate passed to Sir Roger, while Aunt Blanche had been happy to assume the titular reins of the household, she was equally happy to leave most of the actual work of seeing that everything ran smoothly to Constance. But the house and the number of servants here were much smaller, and the housekeeper whom they hired in the city ran the place with such efficiency that Constance had very little to do with its daily operation. Nor did she have any of the social chores to occupy her that had taken up part of her days in the past. She had been wont to pay duty calls to her father’s tenants and various people in the village, such as the vicar and his wife, and the now-retired attorney who had in the past handled her father’s affairs. She was accustomed, as well, to visiting with her friends and neighbors. But here in London she knew no one besides her family, and, to be truthful, she usually found them poor company. Aunt Blanche, Margaret and Georgiana talked of little except husbands, marriage and dresses, and Uncle Roger talked little at all, spending most of his time at his club and, when he was at home, retreating to the study, where, Constance suspected, he passed the hours by napping.
Worst of all for Constance was the fact that in London she was not free to go on long rambles as she had at home. Here, her aunt and uncle ruled, it was far too unseemly, not to mention dangerous, to go walking out without a maid to accompany her, and they could not spare a maid for what her aunt and uncle considered Constance’s foolish and unladylike behavior.
Bored and restricted, Constance had looked forward to the prospect of Lady Haughston’s offer of an afternoon’s expedition with more eagerness than she would have admitted. Her spirits lowered greatly as the afternoon ticked away.
But then, shortly before two o’clock, just as Constance was thinking of going upstairs to escape the argument that Georgiana and Margaret were having over which of them was more favored by a certain baron—who had never shown the slightest interest in either of them that Constance had seen—the parlor maid announced the arrival of Lady Haughston.
“Oh, my!” Aunt Blanche jumped up as though someone had pinched her. “Yes, yes, of course. Show her ladyship in.”
She quickly patted at the cap that covered her hair and smoothed down her skirts, muttering that she wished she had worn a better dress. “Pin up that curl, Margaret. Stand up, girls. Constance, here, take my needlework.”
Constance moved over to pick up the embroidery hoop that had fallen from Aunt Blanche’s hands when she leapt up from her chair, and she neatly tucked it into her sewing basket. Because of that, she was leaning over and slightly turned away when Lady Haughston entered the room. Aunt Blanche hurried forward, reaching out eagerly to take Lady Haughston’s hands in both hers.
“My lady! What an honor. Do sit down. Would you care for some tea?”
“Oh, no.” Lady Haughston, a vision in a pomona green silk walking dress, smiled at the older woman as she pulled her hands back. She nodded vaguely toward Margaret and Georgiana. “I cannot stay. I am here for only a moment to fetch Miss Woodley. Where is she?”
She looked past Lady Woodley. “Ah, there you are. Shall we go? I must not leave the horses waiting long or the coachman scolds me.” She smiled at the absurdity of her statement, her blue eyes twinkling. “I hope you have not forgotten about our shopping expedition?”
“No, of course not. I wasn’t sure…well, that you meant it.”
“Whyever not?” Lady Haughston’s eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “Because I am late, you mean? You mustn’t mind that. Everyone will tell you that I am always shockingly late. I don’t know why that is so.”
She shrugged prettily, and Constance suspected that few people were ever able to sustain any annoyance at Lady Haughston’s tardy arrivals.
“You are going shopping? With Constance?” Aunt Blanche gaped at Lady Haughston.
“I hope you will not mind,” Lady Haughston replied. “Miss Woodley promised she would help me choose a new bonnet today. I am quite torn between a pair of them.”
“Oh.” Aunt Blanche blinked. “Yes, well, of course.”
She turned to Constance, the look on her face a mixture of confusion and annoyance, as she said, “It is very kind of you to invite my niece.”
Constance felt a trifle guilty for not having told her aunt about Lady Haughston’s invitation. However, she could scarcely explain her doubts with Lady Haughston standing right there. She said only, “I am sorry, Aunt Blanche. I quite forgot to tell you. I hope you do not mind.”
Aunt Blanche could do nothing but agree to the expedition if she hoped for Lady Haughston’s favor, and Constance was banking on it that she would realize that fact. Otherwise, her aunt would probably have refused out of irritation.
But Lady Woodley was wise enough to nod and say, “Of course, my dear. You deserve a treat.” She turned to their guest. “I scarcely know what we would do without dear Constance’s help. It is so good of her to come to London to help me chaperone the girls.” Aunt Blanche cast a fond glance at Constance’s cousins. “It is difficult to keep up with two lively girls—and so many parties!”
“I am sure it must be. Are you planning to attend Lady Simmington’s ball tomorrow? I hope that I will see you there.”
Aunt Blanche’s smile remained fixed on her face, though at Francesca’s words she looked as though she had perhaps swallowed a bug. Finally, she said, “I, ah, I fear that I have lost our invitation.”
“Oh, no, do not say so. Well, if you care to go, you may have mine,” Francesca replied carelessly. “I should hate not to see all of you there. “
“My lady!” Aunt Blanche’s face turned pink with happiness. Lady Simmington was a hostess of importance, and Aunt Blanche had spent much of the week bemoaning the fact that she had not received an invitation to her ball. “That is generous of you indeed. Oh, my, yes, of course, we shall be there.”
Her joy was such that she beamed at her husband’s niece with actual good will as she bade them goodbye. Constance quickly put on her hat and gloves and followed Lady Haughston out of the house before her aunt could think of some way to try to foist her two cousins on them.
However, glad as she was to make her escape, Constance could not help but wonder what Lady Haughston was doing. Francesca’s generous gift of an invitation to one of the most exclusive balls of the Season would, of course, result in no great loss on her part. No one, Constance was sure, would deny Lady Haughston entrance to a party without her invitation. But why, Constance wondered, had she done it? She seemed a friendly and kind person—she had, after all, pretended to believe her aunt’s face-saving fabrication about a lost invitation. But a friendly nature could not explain the odd interest she had taken in Constance’s family.
It seemed beyond belief she would have been so intrigued by the look of Constance, Aunt Blanche or her daughters that she arranged to be introduced to them. And Constance had barely spoken two words to her when the woman had asked her to stroll about the party with her, as if they were bosom friends, capping this extraordinary action with an invitation to take her on a shopping expedition. Even more bizarrely, she had actually followed through on her invitation, then had expertly put Aunt Blanche in her
