Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
It was only dinner, Mia told herself as she paced in front of the fire in her chambers. The carefully written cards crumpled in her hand as she closed her fist. And it was a country dinner at that. There was no one here of such vast import as to ruin her father if she made a mistake. Indeed, most of those in attendance tonight were Ben’s dearest friends. Surely they would be kind to her if she made a mistake, would they not?
She lifted the cards and read over the list again. Why did there have to be such a thing as precedence? Why should it matter whose earldom was created first? Was it Lord Stoke or Lord Heatherton? She consulted her papers. Both were created before Lord Grenville’s, but why could she not remember whose was first? And why was she even worrying about Lord Grenville tonight? He had not even arrived.
She let out a frustrated sigh as she went down the list of names. Lord Heatherton’s was older by more than half a century. But how was she going to remember that? She’d read this list at least a dozen times and was no closer to remembering it.
She tapped the cards to her lips. H came before S, just like Heatherton’s title was created before Stoke’s.
A relieved giggle bubbled out of her. That was it. She could remember something that simple. Now if she could just remember everyone else’s titles. Lord Montcort was a viscount and Lord Ponsonby a baron. She was grateful Lord Ragsdale had sent his regrets. But then he wasn’t Lord Ragsdale any longer. He was His Grace, the Duke of Larmont. She was nervous enough with all of Ben’s other friends. She did not need a duke in the mix. The new duke had been intimidating as a marquess. She could only imagine what fear his new title would bring.
But he wasn’t there, so she need not think about him at all. Thank the Heavens for that!
The clock chimed, and Mia looked over. It was ten minutes past six. People would start gathering in the parlor soon. She needed to go down so she could greet them. For as much as her father wanted this party, he had done very little for it. She had planned everything and been there to greet everyone who came. She highly doubted that her father would be down to the parlor early.
She sagged. The weight of it all was nearly too much.
She tucked her cards into the sleeve of her gown. Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, she straightened and sucked in a deep breath. She could do this. Her mother would find her uncertainty and timidity unpardonable.
Mia gave a little smile. It was good her mother was not there. She felt immediately ashamed of the thought. Her mother may have been critical and dominating, but she had loved Mia. Or Mia thought she had. At least as much as her mother could love someone besides herself.
She swallowed hard. Why had she had to inherit the critical and ill-tempered trait from her mother? Could she not have inherited the ability to host a grand house party instead?
She shook her head. There was no use questioning things that would not—could not—change. She was who she was and there was nothing to do for it.
Smiling a smile she did not feel, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. If she didn’t have the natural ability to be a proper hostess, she would just have to feign it. Eventually it would come to her, would it not? She bit her cheek. Lawks, she hoped so.
The parlor was empty, and Mia was happy for it. It gave her a chance to gather herself. She moved over to the couch and picked up the book off the side table. But before she opened it, her father walked into the room. Perhaps she had been unfair in her earlier thoughts.
“Good evening, dearest,” he placed a kiss on her cheek. “The party is going well; do you not agree?” A smile filled his face—from cheek to cheek. Indeed, she had not seen him this happy in years. That was a sobering thought. Was she not enough for him?
Mia raised a brow. “It is the first day, Papa. It would be dismal, indeed, if it had already gone awry.”
He chuckled. “It’s happened before, I assure you.”
“I don’t know what to think that you considered it might happen to our party.”
He shook his head and settled onto the couch next to her. “I did not believe it. But considering the weather we’ve been experiencing, it seemed a possibility.”
Mia could not argue that point. They’d had the oddest weather of late. It was as if they’d had no summer or autumn at all. “I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “But the party is still young. We do not even have all our guests here. I hope you have not cursed us for the coming days.”
He intertwined his fingers and rested them over his slightly protruding belly. “I do not believe in such things.” He closed his eyes. “All will be well. You’ve done a proficient job of planning. Now you may enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
Mia scoffed. “Enjoy indeed. I shall not enjoy myself until the last guest has quit the house.”
He cracked an eye open and looked at her. “Pray, why? The hardest part is over. You have everything planned down to the minute. What could go?—”
Mia held up a finger and cut him off. “Do not give it voice, Papa. For as soon as you say it, it will happen.”
He raised a brow but pinched his lips shut. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back. “All will be well. You mark my words.”
Mia shook her head and opened her book to the page marked with her silk ribbon. She could not even remember where she’d left off. It had been weeks since last she took up this book. Finally, after scanning the pages, she found where the familiar ended and the unfamiliar began.
She had not even read a full page when voices floated down the corridor. There were deep male voices, so she assumed it must be the Tweed group.
Mia took in a calming breath. While most of them might intimidate her, Ben was with them. And he could set her at ease in the worst of situations.
Ben was the first through the doorway. “Good evening, Mia.” Gone was the frown he’d had earlier. Although, by the time he’d left to return to Tweed, he’d been smiling as he nearly always did.
Mia stood to welcome her guests. She dipped a curtsy to the gentlemen and ladies as they flooded into the room. “Good evening, my lord. I hope the roads were not too treacherous.”
“Not so treacherous as to keep us away,” Lord Montcort said. He smiled at her, and she had to admit he was not an ugly man. He was not as handsome as Ben, but she could imagine there were plenty of ladies desirous of his attention. Indeed, all the gents were handsome. Even though they were very different. Lord Ponsonby reminded Mia of a willow tree in winter—all lanky, tall, and graceful. While Mr. Bancroft was more like an immature willow in summer. Shorter and fuller but still graceful. And then there was Lord Montcort. He was closer to Lord Ponsonby in appearance, but his personality—from what she’d seen—was more childlike and playful. Lord Ponsonby was more stoic.
But regardless, they all appeared kind enough.
Lady Heatherton and Lady Stoke entered with their husbands close behind. From what Ben had told her, Lady Stoke and Lady Heatherton had been best friends growing up. Just as Lord Stoke and Lord Heatherton were the best of friends. There had been a bit of a falling out when Lady Stoke married Lady Heatherton’s brother. But they seemed to have made amends just before Lady Heatherton married.
There had been an amusing story regarding Lord and Lady Heatherton’s courtship, but Mia could not remember the particulars of it. It had something to do with a dog, if she recalled correctly. At the time Ben had told her, she had only met the gentleman once or twice—when they’d visited while home from school. But now that she had met the couple, she wished she remembered the story. Perhaps she could ask Lady Heatherton about it one day.
Mia frowned. Would they ever become close enough friends to ask such a question?
Lady Stoke came over to Mia and took her hands. “You look lovely, my lady.”
Mia smiled. “As do you. Was your gown made in Town?”
Lady Stoke looked down and smoothed the front of her gown. “No.” She leaned in. “We have a modiste in Staffordshire that far exceeds anything I’ve seen in London. She does exceptional work.”
Mia looked at the gown, scrutinizing it more thoroughly. “I believe you are right. She has a very deft hand.”
Lady Heatherton sighed. “She is no better than the modiste we have in Shropshire.” She lifted her skirt and pointed to the seam. “Have you ever seen such a tight, well-sewn seam? I have not.”
Lady Stoke grinned and patted her friend’s hand. “Indeed, I have not.” She gave Mia a knowing look. The woman knew how to handle her friend. If Mia remembered correctly, Lady Stoke did not come from nobility. Her father was a respectable gentleman but not with great wealth. Lady Heatherton was the daughter of an earl. The disparity in their upbringing was not readily apparent. But their interactions, at times, indicated that Lady Heatherton was used to being the superior of the two.
Ben came over and stood beside her. “You look very handsome tonight, Mia.” He whispered to her.
Her face warmed, and her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Ben.” She gave him a side-eyed look. “You look very well yourself.”
He tugged on his waistcoat. “I pulled out one of my finest tailcoats for the occasion.”
Mia grinned. “But if you wear your best tonight, what will you wear for the rest of the party? And what of the ball? Are we to have to settle for a ragged waistcoat?”
He shrugged. “I always think the first impression is most important. I’m certain people will overlook my less-than-fine waistcoats after tonight. They already have formed an opinion of my appearance and will not pay much heed. They will only focus on my charming personality after tonight.”
Mia laughed. “You are assuming they find you charming.”
He frowned. “How could anyone think me anything but charming?”
Mia raised a brow. “I have seen you less than charming plenty of times. If they need an example, just send them to me.”
He shook his head. “Why would I do such a thing? What gentleman does not prefer to be thought of as charming?”
Lady Grenville and Lady Charlotte stepped into the parlor. Lady Charlotte looked a picture of beauty and Mia ran her hands down the front of her gown, suddenly feeling dowdy and dull.
“She has nothing on you, my lady,” Lord Montcort whispered in her other ear.
Mia turned. When had he moved up beside her? She must add stealth to his list of attributes. She smiled up at him, but she could not say he’d convinced her. “Thank you, my lord. But I think you are mistaken. Lady Charlotte is very handsome.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps to some. But she is not to my liking.”
Mia glanced over at Ben. Did this mean their matchmaking plans were over before they’d even begun? That was a disappointment.
“Perhaps she’ll grow on you, Cort,” Ben said without turning in their direction.
“I find that difficult to believe,” Lord Montcort grumbled. “I prefer someone with a more understated beauty.” He flicked his gaze over to her and smiled.
Ben frowned.
“I’m certain she is simply trying to make a good impression. Perhaps she will be dressed in rags by the time the ball arrives. After all, Ben believes the first impression is what everyone will remember. He does not think anyone will notice what everyone wears from this point forward.” Mia grinned at the thought and glanced at Lord Montcort from the corner of her eye. “I’m certain you’ll be smitten with her then.”
“What are you three standing over here discussing? You look like cats that just ate the mouse.” Lady Stoke looked coyly between them, taking up a position next to Ben.
Mia stepped out of the circle of Ben’s friends. “I should go greet them. It is the proper thing to do.”
Montcort lifted his brow. “If you must.”
Mia moved over to Lady Grenville and Lady Charlotte, dropping into a slight curtsy. “Lady Grenville, I hope your head is feeling better. I was sorry to be deprived of your company at tea.”
Lady Grenville smiled kindly. “It is much better. Thank you, my dear. I’m certain it was simply the taxing journey. All I needed was a rest.”
Mia smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. And that you are joining us this evening.” She turned her attention to Lady Charlotte. “I hope you rested well?”
Lady Charlotte nodded. “Indeed.” Her eyes slid across the faces in the room. They stopped on Ben, and she smiled.
Mia’s jaw clenched.
The Meechams, Miss Newsome, and Mrs. Ludlum entered the parlor before Mia could see Ben’s reaction. She excused herself and moved over to greet the newcomers. She had not seen the Meechams since their arrival.
“Mr. Meecham, Mrs. Meecham. We are so glad you could join us. I hope your rooms are acceptable?” Mr. Meecham had made a very good living in trade. Normally, they were not the type of people who would attend a house party such as this. Especially with those in attendance. But Mr. Meecham had been a long-time resident of Tweed and a dear friend of her father’s.
Mrs. Meecham’s side curls bounced. “Indeed, they are. They are very fine.” Where Lady Grenville was quiet and reserved, Mrs. Meecham was the complete opposite.
Mr. Meecham smiled. “Mine overlooks the stables.”
Mia cringed. It could not be helped. Someone’s room had to overlook them. It had been a matter of who would complain and take offense the most by being placed there. “I’m sorry. If that is not accept?—”
Mr. Meecham held up a hand. “Not at all. I appreciate a well-maintained stable. It is a perfectly acceptable room.”
Mia’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you approve.” The man rose a notch or two in her estimation.
Mrs. Meecham pushed her daughters forward. “You remember my daughters; do you not? This is my oldest, Miss Meecham,” the taller of the two daughters dipped a curtsy and mumbled something about my lady.
“ And this is my younger daughter, Miss Lucy Meecham. She will have her come out this Season, will you not, my dear?” The younger Meecham girl nodded, but her gaze did not meet Mia’s.
She had not seen the Meecham girls in years, as their father’s trade kept them much in London. But Mia remembered her first and only Season and sympathized with the young ladies. There were so many expectations. It was a discomposing experience. “I’m sure you will make quite a splash.”
Her mother chortled. “Of course she will.” She pinched her daughter’s chin between her fingers. “Just look at her. She is an unparalleled beauty.” She took a quick breath. “I know it’s uncommon to have a younger daughter out before the older one is married. But I’m certain Lucy will marry this Season. And I do not think it fair that she should put off marriage simply because her sister has not yet made a match—” she flicked a gaze at her older daughter. “And may never make a match.”
Miss Meecham colored up all the way to the tips of her ears.
Mia’s brows arched high on her forehead. It seemed she and Miss Meecham shared the misfortune of having domineering mothers. “I’m not inclined toward marriage either, so perhaps Miss Meecham and I will have much to discuss.”
Mrs. Meecham let out a bark of laughter. “But yours is a disinclination. Susan simply does not attract the acceptable sort of gentlemen.” How did an agreeable man like Mr. Meecham end up leg-shackled to a woman like her? He seemed perfectly amiable. But his wife? Although, had Mia’s father not been in a similar situation? It only further proved her point about happiness in marriage.
Mia put a commiserating hand on the older Miss Meecham’s arm. “It is not the Season yet, so I hope you will enjoy your time here at Hedlund Hall.”
Miss Meecham smiled, but it was strained. “Thank you, my lady. I’m certain I will.”
Mia moved away to greet Miss Newsome and Mrs. Ludlum. “I hope you had a pleasant rest.”
Both ladies nodded, but before they could utter a word, Hastings stepped in and announced dinner.
Mia’s stomach clenched. Now was the time she’d been dreading. Perhaps she should have taken the time to peek at her list instead of mingling with her guests. However, it would have appalled her mother that Mia even needed to consult the list. Visiting with the guests should have been her highest priority. She gave a small shake of her head. At least her mother would not have been disappointed about that.
“Lady Amelia, may I escort you into dinner? I believe our seats should be close to each other.” Ben was at her elbow.
“Uh…” she stammered. “Yes, I suppose that will do. But I should order everyone?—”
Ben smiled down at her. “You’ll find that everyone affected by precedence already knows where they belong. And anyone who doesn’t know doesn’t belong in a specific seat.” It sounded high-handed, but Mia realized he was right. She had been worried for no reason.
She smiled up at him and put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, my lord.” He smiled down at her. “My pleasure.”
Maybe this evening would not be as dreadful as she thought.