A Winter’s Romance

Chapter One

Consider first your personal attractions. Not all young ladies can claim genuine beauty; if you are not so fortunate, do recall that a skilled dressmaker can hide various defects in the figure and, likewise, a lady’s maid can contrive a complexion that is not off-putting.

—Advice to Young Ladies

February 1814, London

M iss Katherine Ardley placed a ribbon between the pages and closed her novel as her half-sister was ushered back into the mantua-maker’s salon. The soft pink of the new gown set off Cecy’s golden hair and delicate complexion to perfection. “You look lovely, Cecy.”

Cecy turned to the full-length mirror and blushed, one hand rising to cover the expanse of bare skin above the gown.

Lady Ardley tilted her head to one side as she inspected the new gown, then turned to Madame Garnier. “Very good, Madame, but it needs to be higher around the neckline. ”

Madame frowned. “Young ladies should make the most of their assets, my lady. This gown will make an excellent first impression at the house party you mentioned.”

“Indeed it will,” Lady Ardley said. “But not the impression I, or Cecy, wish to make. Can you add some lace, or a frill?”

Madame gave the slightest of shrugs, then nodded and summoned her assistant to fetch pins and lace before turning to Kate. “Do you wish for a new gown as well, Miss Ardley?

“No, not at the moment.”

“Are you sure, dear?” Lady Ardley asked.

“Quite sure, Mama.” Papa had paid an enormous sum for new gowns of all kinds a year ago, at the beginning of her second season, and was perfectly willing to do so again. But those new gowns had failed to compensate for Kate’s outspoken manner and disinclination for making meaningless small-talk. Being the same height as some of her suitors hadn’t helped, either, nor had her inclination for spending time out of doors, which resulted in a complexion that often had more colour than was fashionable. Her popularity had changed when her maternal grandmother died and left Kate a moderate inheritance; she was suddenly sought after by many young bachelors. And some not so young.

“But you are going to this house party as well, hein ?” Madame said. “You will want to make a good impression, too.”

Kate paused, but although the woman was clearly in search of more business, there was a trace of sympathy in her gaze. Kate’s nondescript brown hair and eyes, and her height, made it clear that Lady Ardley was not her mother; did Madame think Kate was a neglected step-child? That was far from the case. “New gowns made no difference last year, Madame. Why spend more money on a futile endeavour?” Besides, she had no wish to compete with Cecy—this year would be her half-sister’s chance to shine.

Madame nodded, gave a small smile, then left Kate to read her book in peace while she supervised the modifications and final fitting of Cecy’s gown. But when they were leaving, Madame put a hand on Kate’s arm and thrust a small book into her hand. “This might be useful, Miss Ardley.”

“But—”

“No, no—please take it, but do not let anyone know you have it.”

Kate, with no idea what Madame meant, could only nod and tuck the book into her reticule as she hurried to catch up with the others.

Kate forgot about the book until she returned from a musical soirée that evening. It had been an informal affair, organised by the mother of one of Cecy’s friends to give the young people a chance to sing or play in public to increase their confidence. Kate was past the stage of wishing to show off her talent at the keyboard—such as it was—but had been happy to accompany some of the singers.

Her maid emptied her reticule and set the little volume on the chest of drawers. When Jenny had brushed out her hair and left, Kate picked it up, her brows rising as she read the title on the spine: Advice to Young Ladies on the matter of Husband Hunting .

What use was that to her? She wasn’t set against marriage, but she did want to marry for love. She didn’t need a husband to support her now that she had Grandmama’s money, so she could afford to wait until she found the right man. She wasn’t wealthy, but she would be able to live comfortably enough in Bath or Weymouth, when Papa could be brought to permit it.

Amongst impecunious widows and invalids.

She shook her head. Rather that than be tied to someone who’d wed her only for the money she could bring to the marriage.

But Madame Garnier was an astute businesswoman, as well as having a good eye for colour and style. Why would she give Kate such a thing? Picking it up, she flicked through the first few pages, pausing as her attention was arrested by a phrase advising those with ‘defects in the figure’ to seek the advice of a skilled dressmaker.

That, then, was Madame’s motive in giving her the book. ‘Defects in the figure’ indeed! But despite her pique, she was curious as to what advice the book might contain. Not quite curious enough to put her current novel aside, but she could take it to Paynton Hall next week.

The house party would be Cecy’s first entry into society. Although Lady Ardley strongly suspected that the party had been arranged to give Viscount Paynton’s heir the chance to choose a bride, that had not been her reason for accepting the invitation. Rather, she hoped that Cecy would make friends with the other young ladies present, and so assuage some of her shyness before she began to attend larger entertainments.

Kate wasn’t sure if Lady Paynton considered her a potential candidate as well as Cecy. However, looking like more of a bluestocking than she was would help to deflect unwanted attention from any other young men there. There would be plenty of new subjects for her to sketch and paint.

She picked up the book again the next day, while waiting for Mama and Cecy to finish preparing for a walk in the park. There might be some hints to ease Cecy’s shyness.

Or not, she thought, having looked at the contents list. The chapter headings included Selecting Your Target, Stratagems for Gaining Attention , and Adjusting Your Conduct to His Tastes .

Kate threw the book onto her bed in disgust. She didn’t want a husband obtained by such means. And she didn’t want one who only courted her for her inheritance, but the book would have no advice on how to avoid that.

She’d had some practice at discouraging suitors last year. Perhaps she should write a booklet on how not to get married? She shrugged, and added the book to the satchel that held her sketchbook, charcoal, and pencils.