not have done that without an invitation, Thea.’ Lady Drusilla frowned her disapproval, but kept her tone light.
‘Oh, she did not mind. I liked her. And she did not turn me from the door—although her butler would have dearly liked to.’ A faint smile illuminated Thea’s face at the memory.
‘It is all your own fault if you allow servants the opportunity to patronise you, my dear.’ Thea had to admire her mother’s worldly wisdom expressed so casually. ‘Take your maid in future! And wear a hat. I expect it is not at all the thing to go about with your head uncovered. At least you had the sense to wear gloves.’
‘Yes, Mama.’
‘So?’ Lady Drusilla raised her brows. ‘What has ruffled your feathers?’
Thea sighed a little. ‘Do I really need a husband?’
‘Yes. We have had this conversation before. You know my reasons—and your father’s, of course.’
‘But I have enjoyed independence for all my twenty-one years. Travel. Culture. Pleasing myself. Why can I not continue to do so?’
‘You cannot travel for the rest of your life, Theodora. It is not suitable.’
‘But you have.’ Thea sat herself down on one of the unopened wooden packing cases, swinging her reticule carelessly by its silken strings.
‘I had the felicity to meet and marry your father. Such opportunities as wife to a royal Ambassador are not given to everyone. You need a husband who will admire you for your qualities and allow you freedom to express yourself. As Sir Hector allowed me. I hope you will not break anything in that case on which you are sitting!’
Thea hid a smile. Secretly she doubted that Sir Hector had had any choice in his wife’s chosen lifestyle. ‘Does such a husband exist for me, do you suppose?’
‘Of course.’
Thea pursed her pretty lips, looking sceptical, but made no reply.
‘It is merely a matter of learning a few rules, knowing how to go on. And if you could pretend to be demure and biddable for a few weeks—’
‘Ha!’
‘And converse in a genteel and respectful manner, without interruption—’
‘About fashion and embroidery, the latest dance and the latest on dit.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Oh, Mama. What have you committed me to!’
‘It is not purgatory, my love.’
‘And growing my hair into curls and ringlets again, if the glances I received today are anything to say to the matter.’
‘I told you that you should not have been so extravagant! But you would do it!’ Lady Drusilla stepped round a pair of leather travelling cases and leaned to kiss her daughter lightly on the cheek. She understood and sympathised with her concerns very well. ‘You are a lovely young woman of whom I am very proud. Whether you grow your hair again, my love, is purely a matter of your own personal choice.’
‘I have no intention of doing so.’ Thea returned the salute and rose to her feet. ‘By the by, I arranged for us to pay an afternoon call on Lady Beatrice Faringdon tomorrow if that suits.’
‘Certainly. An excellent idea. My acquaintance with Lady Beatrice is from the very distant past, when we were still girls, but she is, I think, knowledgeable and accommodating. And, most important, has entrée to the best families in London. So begins our first step in the campaign.’ Lady Drusilla crossed off two more items on her list. ‘Did you learn anything other of import?’
‘No. Except that this stole is pretty enough, but far more suitable for evening wear than for a morning visit.’ The lady raised her brows, her mouth curling into a mischievous smile, as she lifted the delicate scarf from her shoulders.
‘Oh.’ Lady Drusilla inspected the garment with sudden interest. ‘Perhaps we shall need a new wardrobe. It would not do to be regarded as provincial. Or oriental in our case! What is suitable in Constantinople is quite plainly not suitable here.’
The two ladies exchanged smiles, their differences reconciled.
‘Let us go and discuss the matter with your father. Who, you will notice, has absented himself from all this.’ She waved her hand in an expansive gesture at the chaos around her feet, then handed her list with great willingness to one of the footmen. ‘And then, dear Thea, when we have some funds at our disposal, perhaps a stroll down Bond Street would be in order.’
On the following afternoon Lady Drusilla Wooton-Devereux and her daughter, with Agnes Drew discreetly, if a trifle smugly, in attendance, applied the knocker to Lady Beatrice Faringdon’s imposing establishment in Berkeley Square. Expected, they were admitted and ushered into the lady’s withdrawing room.
‘Drusilla. My dear.’ Lady Beatrice surged to her feet with a rustle of the puce damask that shrouded her opulent figure and clashed uncomfortably with her fading red hair. ‘And this must be your daughter. Theodora.’ She held out a hand in greeting, then halted, the hand falling to her side, and raised her lorgnette to deadly effect. She did not need to apply the lens as her eyesight was perfect. But the gesture was guaranteed to make an impression. She levelled the glass at her friend’s daughter, surveyed her with a critical thoroughness from head to foot, and drew in a breath.
‘Well. Caro Lamb, as I live and breathe!’
Which unwise comment was guaranteed to bring about a distinct pause in the proceedings. Lady Caroline Ponsonby, as she was before her marriage to William Lamb, Viscount Melbourne, was a spoiled capricious beauty whose appearance, behaviour and wild, tempestuous affair with Lord Byron some years previously had scandalised a notoriously decadent society.
Theodora took it upon herself to reply, with the politest of smiles, before her mother could intervene. But there was a noticeable edge to her voice and a glint in her eye, which might be interpreted as a challenge to their hostess. ‘I hope that my upbringing has been more respectable than that of Lady Melbourne. It is certainly not my intention to distress my relatives by my outrageous behaviour or to take the town by storm in quite the same manner as that unfortunate lady. I would consider it exceptionally bad ton either to fly into a fit of rage in public, or to attempt to slash my wrists with broken glass.’
Lady Beatrice actually coloured at the implied set-down.
‘Forgive me, my dear girl! Drusilla! It was not my intention to be so ill mannered. It is just … The hair, you understand. So fair … and so short. And so slender a figure. A mere fleeting impression, I do assure you.’ She thought for a moment and raised her glass again. ‘You have not been ill, have you?’
‘Of course she has not.’ Lady Drusilla stepped into the breach with calming words, a gracious smile for Lady Beatrice and a narrowed glance toward her daughter. ‘We have travelled extensively in recent months in Arabia to see some of the archaeological sites. Theodora found it expedient to cut her hair. The sand is a great trial, you understand, and not kind to long hair. Theodora is always excessively healthy!’
‘Of course. Forgive me, dear Drusilla …’ Lady Beatrice almost gushed.
‘And
