Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 18
Brock maneuvered his phaeton through the fashionable London ton currently promenading through Hyde Park, while he sought to drown out the whining voice beside him. Whatever had gotten into him, agreeing to accompany Lord Galles’ daughter for a ride in the park? He’d only collected the girl from her father a handful of minutes before, but was already tempted to stop his horses and ask her to walk back. If it were not completely and unforgivably outside social norms to abandon a young lady in Hyde Park, he expected he would have.
“You do not say?” he responded when Lady Sophia went quiet.
“That was my response as well, my lord,” she began again. “Imagine the nerve of the girl, dancing the waltz without Almack’s permission.”
“The shame!” he faked interest while imagining himself shoving pointed quill pens in each ear, effectively putting a stop to the girl’s verbal volcano. It was a wonder she hadn’t picked up on his lack of enthusiasm in the conversation.
His eyes roamed the many unfamiliar faces in the sea of people taking their daily constitution in the park. It amazed him the amount of people London held. He could attend a ball every night for years, and still manage to meet new members of the ton at every turn. He nodded to a group of matrons, picking Lady Darlingiver and Mrs. St. Augustin out of the crowd. Their gazes took him in in surprise before both women lowered their chins in a return salute and increased their pace in the opposite direction.
Returning his attention to the girl beside him, Brock’s eyes suddenly caught a familiar face on the walking trail. His breath caught. Even with her dark hair captured under a fancy hat and gowned in a fashionable walking dress instead of the sturdy cotton he was used to seeing, Lady Viola stood out.
“My lord?” his carriage mate asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“Pardon me, what was that?” Brock turned his eyes from Lady Viola and trained them on the screeching girl beside him.
“I asked if you would perhaps be willing to escort me to Gunther’s for an ice one day.” The irritation vanished when his attention settled on his companion once more.
“I do believe that would be an enjoyable afternoon,” Brock responded, though he had no intention of calling on the girl again.
She smiled and greeted a woman in a carriage to Brock’s left.
When he gazed over Lady Sophia’s shoulder, Lady Viola had disappeared.
He would certainly see her again soon, he had no doubt. Together, they accounted for the worst scandal to hit London in the last decade. It was inconceivable that their paths would not cross.
He flicked the reins and his horse sped up as they exited the park. He could not wait to unburden himself of young Lady Galles’ company and return to his townhouse. The post should arrive shortly, and he had invitations to accept.
“My lord,” she said, and clasped onto his arm as the horses lifted their legs higher, increasing their sped. “It is time to return to my father’s already?”
He wiped the utterly bored expression from his face before answering her question. “Time does pass when two like-minded individuals gain acquaintance, does it not?” He bit his tongue before he added that it could also drag on and on. Before long, Brock’s fine carriage stock found their place among the swift-moving afternoon set as he headed back toward Lady Sophia’s townhouse.
“I do agree, my lord.” She did not release his arm. “I will be at the Viannate’s ball this evening, do you plan to attend?” Her voice came out a bit needy; Brock could only imagine the lecture she’d received before leaving with him. Her father most likely instructed her to make sure she confirmed another meeting with Brock.
He could not say whether or not he would be at any ball Lady Sophia planned to attend. The young girl probably didn’t know who Lady Viola was, and no doubt wouldn’t understand his need to see her. Attaining a list of functions she planned to attend, however, would prove difficult.
As his brothers before him, he was determined to get what he wanted. Except instead of Lady Viola’s attention, Brock only wanted retribution.
Chapter 24
Viola laughed as she and Ruby descended the last stair into the foyer. She truly did not know what had come over her. Since their return from the stroll in Hyde Park, Vi had enjoyed a most jovial mood, and quite looked forward to their next outing. Maybe ices at Gunther’s. There was something about this town, her fancy new dresses and her friend at her side which instilled hope. Not only hope that the remaining part of the season would pass without further embarrassment to her father, but a genuine optimism for her own future.
Could it be possible, despite the continued gossip, that society could forgive and forget her transgressions? She was not naive enough to expect this, but she couldn’t help but dream of the possibility.
“Tell me, which outfit will you wear first?” Ruby asked, but did not wait for an answer before she continued. “I for one plan to wear the puce dress. You and the modiste were quite right, it does indeed suit my coloring.”
They continued toward the dining room, arm in arm, much as they had walked while in the park. “You must trust my guidance more,” Vi said. “Do not forget I have done this before.”
“And you did it smashingly well, from what I have heard.” Ruby barely made it through her reply before she giggled.
Viola smiled, taking the joke for what it was. “Point taken.”
They entered the open door to the dining room, where Vi’s father and Lady Darlingiver sat, awaiting their meal.
“Ah, good evening you two!” Her father’s tone suggested a new zest for life, one that had assuredly been missing when he was rushed to the country not long ago. “I see you are both enjoying your time in London.”
Vi was hard pressed to agree, for she’d resisted accompanying her father to town for so long. “I find the change in scenery refreshing, Father.”
“And you, my dear? This is your first time in town, if I am not mistaken.” He turned his dashing smile on Ruby, and Vi breathed a bit easier.
“It is, my lord. Thank you so much for the beautiful gowns.”
“Nonsense, my child. You are as another daughter of my own.”
Vi took the seat next to her father, Ruby on the other side. As the footman pushed in her chair, Vi swore she saw tears glisten in her friend’s eyes.
“Lady Darlingiver was just going over all the invitations she has accepted on your behalf, Viola,” he said, giving the woman a warm smile. “Do tell what you have planned, dear.”
All eyes turned to the older woman. Ironic that she had not wanted anything to do with them in the park earlier, but now—in the presence of her father—Lady Darlingiver was the epitome of polite hostess.
“After visiting with you both in the park this afternoon, I went directly to Madame Sauvage’s shop to verify that gowns would be ready soon.”
“Go ahead, tell them, my dear.” Her father practically bounced in his seat, excitement radiating from him.
Lady Darlingiver looked from Vi to Ruby and then back to Lord Liperton before she set her utensil down and spoke. “I had hoped to keep it a secret a bit longer, but I agree with your father.” She turned back to Vi. “You will need time to prepare.”
The woman’s smile grew. Unease filled Vi, sending a shiver down her spine. “The word is spreading quickly about your return to town. I thought a celebration should be in order. So, I—”
“What do you mean, ‘celebration’?” The question came from Ruby before Vi could utter a word. Her mouth was still open, gathering wool.
“Well, Lady Viola—and you, as well—need a proper introduction to society. Have either of you noticed that not one person has arrived to visit or leave their calling card?” She raised her eyebrows in question and folded her hands in her lap.
Vi had been dreading the day she would be forced to attend a soiree, actually secretly holding out hope the modiste might misplace their gown order.
“I see you have not.” A smug smile replaced the dowager’s serene one. “It is highly improper—as you should know, Viola—to call on a person without a proper introduction. So, I am hosting an intimate dinner party in your honor.”
“Intimate?” Vi recalled the ‘intimate’ group Lady Darlingiver had invited to her coming-out ball during her season. It was a laughable term to use. Invites had been sent to every lord, lady, sir, and miss in all of England—and possibly a few close to the Scottish border. “Father, tell me you—” She turned an angry look on him.
“Now, Viola, calm down. Are you not serious about finding a husband?”
Of course she was not serious about finding a husband, but she could not tell her father that.
Her father continued. “And I am not a young man. What will happen to you after I leave this earth?”
Viola reached over and set her hand on his. “Do not speak like that. I did agree to come to London.” She sounded evasive, even to her own ears.
“There will only be fifty of our nearest and dearest friends invited,” Lady Darlingiver continued. “This, by London standards, is quite intimate. Do you not agree, Lippy?”
“I concur,” her father said and picked up his fork, signaling his involvement in the conversation was at an end.
But Vi was not done with the conversation—not even close. “And when will this ‘intimate dinner party’ occur?” It was like pulling teeth.
“Why, tomorrow evening, of course.”
And just like that, Vi’s control over her return to society was taken from her—if she’d ever had the control in the first place.
She turned a pleading look at Ruby, begging for her help.
“I do hope our gowns are ready in time.”
Vi kicked her foot out, catching her so-called bosom friend squarely in the knee.
“Ouch,” Ruby said and reached her hand under the table to squeeze Vi’s leg, barely above her knee.
Vi latched on to her only thread of hope to avoid the upcoming disaster that would be Lady Darlingiver’s dinner party. “Madame Sauvage could not possibly have evening gowns ready in time.”
The smug smile returned to Lady Darlingiver’s face. “On the contrary, dear. As I said earlier, I went round to her shop, and she will have two ball gowns ready for fittings on the morrow.”
“Ball gowns?” Both Ruby and Vi asked at the same time.
“There cannot be a dinner party without a bit of dancing afterwards,” her father said as he lifted a forkful of quail to his mouth.
“That is very true.”
At that moment, Vi longed for the serenity of Foldger’s Foals. When the household was up in arms at her father’s unannounced arrival there, she could slip away and tend to her horses, go for a long ride about the estate, or simply work in her office. In London, she would not be afforded this luxury.
Servants cleared the plates in preparation for their dessert. As a footman set individual bowls filled to the brim with cook’s plum-sauce pudding in front of them, her father joined the conversation once again.
“It is very fortunate for us that Lady Darlingiver’s son is in town. You remember the Duke of Darlingiver, do you not?”
“How can I forget Hampton?” It was all Vi could do not to roll her eyes at the thought of the insufferable boy who had followed her around during her first season. Viola was seven years his junior, but still he had seemed fresh from Oxford. Part of her wondered if that had been his way of impressing his feelings upon her.
“Vi, you have never mentioned Hampton before.” Ruby looked between Vi and Lady Darlingiver.
“Lord Darlingiver,” the woman said, emphasizing his formal name, “is an old friend of Lady Viola’s. They were practically inseparable during her season. He is most eager to renew your acquaintance.”
That was ironic, she wanted to say. He’d had all those years to visit when his mother traveled to Foldger’s Hall; his estate sat less than an afternoon’s ride by carriage from her father’s country estate. Yet, she’d seen neither hide nor hair of Hampton Darlingiver until her return to proper society. Instead of voicing her thoughts, Viola turned a smiling face to her father and his companion. “I do look forward to visiting with him after all this time.”
“Now that all that is settled, I would like to enjoy my dessert.” Vi’s father took a large spoonful of pudding and placed it in his mouth, sighing when the sweetness touched his tongue.
Viola ate her last course in silence and contemplated her coming time in London. Her search for Brock would have to be put on hold, at least for the next twenty-hours, while she dangled on strings and was led around by the old woman seated across from her. A marionette upon a stage.
She sighed. There was not much she could do until after the dinner party and ball the following evening.
Ruby leaned close and whispered, “Whatever is the matter with you? It is only a ball . . . One night.”
Ruby had never experienced a season. The thought of attending a real ball would excite her friend, and rightly so. Hadn’t Vi spent countless nights by candlelight explaining all the wonders of London: the grand balls, elegant evening dresses, and dashing gentlemen? “I had hoped to reenter society on my own terms,” Vi whispered back.
“What does it matter if your first outing is a dinner party thrown by Lady Darlingiver and her son, or the opera? At least at Lady Darlingiver’s affair, you will be surrounded by a handpicked few.”
Ruby—always the voice of reason—had a point.
“One night,” Vi whispered.
Chapter 25
“You do realize we are expected at our dress fitting in fewer than two hours?” Ruby asked.
“Of course I do. That is why we must hurry. Now, get into the carriage.” Vi pushed her friend toward the waiting carriage, complete with a footman awaiting a lady to help into the conveyance.
“Do not wrinkle my lovely morning gown, I am moving as fast as possible.” Ruby grasped the footman’s outstretched hand and entered the carriage.
Vi followed hastily behind and settled on the forward-facing seat. “We will have plenty of time to make a quick detour before arriving at the dress shop.”
The look Ruby turned her way told Vi her friend did not believe for a second that they would arrive on time for their appointment, if at all.
“Ruby, I promise you will not miss your first ball—or the fitting to look beautiful at said first ball, trust me.”
Her friend relaxed against the cloth seat as the carriage pulled away from her father’s townhouse, headed toward East End.
“Does your father know where we are going?”
“Do you really think I would tell my father that we are headed to one of the worst parts of London, unchaperoned, with no other protection but our two lively servants?”
“I suppose not—”
“If I had, do you imagine we would still be on our way there and not locked in my room?”
Ruby didn’t bother answering Vi’s question as a sullen look overtook her face.
Vi immediately felt badly for being so harsh. “I am sorry, I am only nervous about tonight.”
“Your sour mood has nothing to do with where we are headed at the moment?”
Her mood had everything to do with where they were headed. How could she tell them that this would be all the money she could give them? That no more would ever come? They would suffer, and she would be the cause of it. She could not live with that on her shoulders, but she had no idea how to continue as she had for the last seven years. Being at the mercy of her father was not easy—although having to depend on a husband for everything she needed in life would be much worse.
“Sometimes I wonder if you even hear me when I talk.” Ruby stared at her and Vi realized she had not answered her last question.
“I think I am a bit overwhelmed with everything at the moment. It is very likely that I will be shunned at the ball tonight . . . and in turn, you will also have a mark above your head.” It was true, Vi did worry about society accepting Ruby into their fold if she was scorned.
“They would not accept the invitation if they did not plan to give you a chance.” Ruby gave Vi a comforting smile.
Again, she wondered how her friend had gained such exemplary insight after being hidden away in the country for so many years. Vi hoped that what she said was true; she was unsure her father could handle more shame heaped upon his only daughter. “Your words are comforting.”
“It is you and me against the world!”
“Thankfully, I am not concerned with the world—only our small place in it.”
“Is society truly all that bad? My mother seems to enjoy her time in London immensely.”
“When you are in the upper echelon of the ton, it is wonderful. But when you fall from grace, it is a cruel and unforgiving place.” Vi tried not to let the sorrow she felt inside color her words. She was ashamed to admit that there had been a day when she had been among the chosen few in that upper echelon—and that she had taken such pleasure watching others’ heartrending fall.
But no more.
Her status in society now depended on others. She could only pray they were more kind then she’d been in her youth, although she did not believe she deserved their kindness or forgiveness.
“What is that awful smell?” Ruby grimaced and covered her nose. “This is worse than that time you convinced me a bit of manual labor would improve my constitution.” She fanned her rose-scented handkerchief in front of her face to ward off the offensive smells of the East End.
Vi peered out the window as they rolled through the impoverished neighborhood. She let the curtain fall back into place before addressing Ruby. “That is the smell of desperation, sorrow, and hopelessness—and exactly what I had hoped to change, at least for a small few.” A weak smile crossed her face.
The carriage rolled to a stop just north of the River Thames, where the smells of filth were the strongest. Ruby pulled her curtain back and gazed out at the building before them. “Oh, my.”
The curtain covering Vi’s window stayed in place. She could not bring herself to look out at the deplorable condition so many were forced to live in—while the likes of Lady Darlingiver spent small fortunes throwing extravagant parties. But she owed them an explanation, in person, about the promise she would be forced to forsake.
