Chapter 5
“What?” Elle sputtered. “No. No way! I am not participating in this!”
Jocelyn exhaled warily. “Matilda will have already started spreading the news. If you don’t come out, it will look…suspicious. People will talk and the MacTavish name will be…not tarnished, exactly, but it would be a blemish and Matilda would be sure that the blemish became a scandal, and scandal never bodes well, even on the wealthiest of families. Really, that wouldn’t matter to me or to Callum, we”ve never much cared about all of that, and generally stay out of London altogether with the exception of Callum’s business endeavors, but…” she cut her eyes to Rose, “well, if you don’t, it might reflect badly on Rose this season.”
Elle blinked several times. Jocy couldn’t be serious, could she?
“I was going to tell you later this week actually, about the plans for the upcoming months. We were going to travel to London for the season—Rose is being presented this year,” she added with a warm smile at the girl, who was beaming, “But we were going to let you remain at Chestwick so that you needn’t involve yourself with all of this. But now…”
Elle ground her teeth. She could have been perfectly content to be the secret hiding back at Chestwick, but she couldn’t have anything messing with Rose’s big debutante shebang. She already adored the girl and felt fiercely protective of her, like the little sister she’d never had but had always wanted.
But to be paraded around like cattle? To be courted by potential husbands? Reminded of her last potential husband, Elle clenched her fists. Ugh. Jocy seemed to read her mind.
“You won’t have to actually marry, I promise you. You just need to go through the motions. Attend the balls and entertain suitors when they come to call. Callum will refuse any offers for your hand—unless you don’t want him to, of course,” she added, almost hopefully.
“Of course he should refuse them,” Elle snapped, getting more irritable by the second. She had zero plans to hitch her wagon to anyone, let alone someone in the wrong century. Jocy held up her hands in surrender.
”But why?” Rose asked curiously. “Don’t you want to be married?”
”Oh, yes, of course, but it’s just…we don”t really have this in America,” Elle hedged. ”The whole coming out and high society and all of that. And I wasn”t prepared to even think about being married so soon after arriving here is all.” Elle glanced at Jocy before looking back to Rose again. The girl was silently pleading with her with those big beautiful eyes, more green than gold today. Though Elle wasn’t looking to bag a man right now, she understood how important it would be to Rose. This was all she knew. Coming out, being courted, finding a suitable husband. This was all vital to her life.
Elle let out a long, semi-annoyed sigh, knowing that she couldn’t stand in the way of Rosie’s life.
“Alright, fine,” Elle said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll do it.”
Rose squealed and threw herself at Elle, hugging her tightly.
“Thank you, Elle. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“I better at least get to wear some bomb-ass…er, I mean, some amazing dresses,” she hissed at Jocy over Rose’s shoulder.
Jocy laughed. “Of course. We’ll do some proper shopping the second we get to London, I promise. In the meantime, we’ve got six weeks to get you prepared for the height of London society.”
Well, fuck.
***
The weeks came and went in a blur. Elle had been taught how to dance—which had actually been really fun and came to her easily enough—how to speak, how to walk, all the ins and outs of being a proper lady. Jocy had been thrilled to find out that Elle already played the piano because apparently playing an instrument really determined if you were wifey material or not. Elle’s mother had been a magnificent player and had taught Elle growing up. She”d never gotten to the skill level of her mom, but she was fairly decent and had always kept it up as a hobby, especially after her parents had died. Whenever she missed her mom, she’d play and feel closer to her. It didn’t erase the ache, but it did ease it a bit.
”One less thing to worry about,” Jocelyn had said with a nod and a smile.
”You remember I’m not actually trying to get any of them to propose, right? So, it doesn’t really matter if I can do any of this crap. I just need to not disgrace the family name. Oh and not fall on my face in front of the Queen, of course.”
“I remember,” Jocy muttered with a roll of her eyes, but there was a glint of something there, something that was somewhere between mischief and hope. “And I’m sure you’ll do just fine with the Queen.”
Elle had narrowed her eyes. “I can see you plotting, Jocelyn MacTavish,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger. “You are not sneaky. And I will not be changing my mind on the husband front.”
Jocy only grinned and was the picture of innocence when she said, “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Eleanor.”
Elle’s lips had quirked and she let it slide for the time being. “This is so ridiculous, by the way. Why should men care if I can play piano or sing or paint? Shouldn”t they be more worried about whether I can carry on a conversation or tie my own shoes or if I’m a decent human being?” She held up her hand to stop Jocy from replying. ”I know, I know. It was rhetorical. I”m just missing the post-nineteenth amendment world right now.”
”I understand, I really, really do. The first time some well-to-do old jackass told me to essentially stand there and look pretty while the men talked, I think steam came out of my ears.” Elle had laughed at that. “I won’t say that it gets easier to deal with, but you learn to live with it.”
Elle made no promises, but agreed to do her best.
The next morning, they left for London. Despite her initial irritation, Elle had grown more and more excited as their departure grew closer. Who didn”t want to put on gorgeous gowns and go to fancy balls? Get to play pretend for a little while on the grandest of scales? She could do that for a time, especially if it meant helping Rose. The girl was beyond ecstatic to finally come out and experience the whole dog and pony show, and, touching Elle”s heart, she said she was even more excited that she got to experience it with her cousin.
Elle could hardly believe her eyes as she took in London. It was so different, yet so familiar at the same time. It was a bit of a mind-fuck actually. Trying to reconcile the past with the future, trying to see beyond what was there to what it would one day become. It made her head hurt. She vaguely recognized Hyde Park and Savile Row—where Jocy promised they would be shopping the second they arrived and Elle was practically foaming at the mouth—but many of the buildings were new to her, only their ghosts remaining in the London she knew.
The carriage finally pulled into a large courtyard in front of an absolutely massive house. It was three stories and made of beautiful light brown stone. Ivy climbed up the walls and sculpted topiaries lined the front of the house on either side of the wide front stairs.
”It”s beautiful,” Elle breathed as she exited the carriage, twisting to stretch her back out after sitting for so long.
”It is,” Jocelyn agreed, ”but I much prefer the country.”
”Aye. Chestwick is where I found you, mo grá. It will always be my favorite place as well,” Callum said as he kissed Jocy quickly but fiercely on the lips before staring into her eyes in a way that made Elle flush. Callum looked at Jocy like she hung the moon, like she was his reason for living. Elle didn’t think she’d ever had that before. She knew that Ashton had loved her, at least in the beginning, and she knew that he thought she was beautiful, but he’d never looked at her like that.
As promised, they’d shopped til they’d nearly dropped, buying Elle almost an entirely new wardrobe, complete with enough of the most beautiful gowns she’d ever seen to wear a different one practically every night for months. Elle tried to say that it was overkill, that she really didn’t need so many…but only half-heartedly. Talk about retail therapy.
Other than the assault on her nostrils, London in 1813 was thrilling to experience, and Elle actually found herself a bit excited at the prospect of going to dances and ballets and who knew what else. She’d deal with the rest. It would be fine.
When the day finally came to be presented to the Queen—the Queen of freaking England—she found herself nervous as hell. Her gown was ivory silk with a row of silvery beads lining the empire waist. More beading wound around the edges of the short sleeves, the bottom hem, and along the small train. Lottie had done her hair, pinning half of it up with combs of the same silvery beads that had been sewn into the dress, and letting the rest flow down her back in soft curls. After Lottie left, Elle pulled out her makeup stash that she”d brought from Chestwick Hall. She kept it soft, going for a more natural look, and with one last swipe of mascara, she sat back to take in the whole package.
”Well, I guess you”re ready to see the Queen, Elle Montgomery,” she whispered to her reflection.
***
The presentation to the Queen hadn”t been as bad or daunting as Elle had imagined. She was still a bit nervous when they first arrived, but once she realized that the Queen that was sitting at the end of the room wasn’t the one that she’d grown up seeing on tabloids at the supermarket, it made the whole thing a little easier to deal with. It was less like meeting a celebrity and more like meeting dignitaries and diplomats, which she’d actually done on occasion with Ash’s family. Still very important and powerful people, but not ones that you’d watched on television or followed on social media.
So, Elle had made it through the whole ordeal without making a fool of herself or shaming the MacTavish name, feeling relatively calm as she walked down the long aisle to stand before the Queen. She made sure to give that toad Matilda a saccharine smile on the way and the woman glowered at her in return. Elle heard whispers swirling about her as she walked the length of the room. Jocelyn had warned her that gossip would abound, but Elle had never cared much about gossip. She held her head high, did as she was instructed, and the Queen eyed her with intrigue. She honestly wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. One girl fainted, but Jocy told Elle later that she suspected it was a ruse to get attention. Elle felt almost as if she were on some reality show like The Bachelor or America”s Next Top Model or something, like none of this was quite real.
Now came time for the fun part: the first ball of the season. Elle had chosen a sapphire blue silk gown, almost the color of her eyes, that was cut a bit lower than the gown she”d worn to the presentation. It wasn”t exactly scandalous, but it was a bit more…fashion-forward than a lot of the gowns she’d seen while they’d shopped. Her cleavage wasn”t looking too shabby between the cut of the dress and the way the stays she was wearing beneath pressed her breasts upward. The cap sleeves were made of looped blue crystals and matching ones cascaded down the center of the bodice and the flowing skirt.
Her hair was swept up into a slightly messy up-do with a thick French braid snaking down one side. She gave herself a subtly smoky eye, winged her liner out slightly, and took her time to contour and highlight. She may not be looking for a husband, but she could still dress to impress. It was a real ball for crying out loud! She applied a second coat of mascara just as Rose entered.
”Oh my,” she breathed. ”Elle, you look…beautiful doesn”t seem to be adequate.”
”Back at you. You look stunning, Rosie!” The girl blushed, as she always did when Elle complimented her, but smiled warmly. She wore a sage green gown of satin with a lace overlay that looked gorgeous with her red hair and green-gold eyes. Rose eyed the tube in Elle”s hand questioningly, and Elle waved the girl over. She swiped the brush over Rose’s thick lashes and smiled at the lovely effect it had. She added just a touch of eye shadow and a bit of blush to complete the look.
She turned Rose to look in the mirror and her eyes widened just as her smile did.
”Heavens,” she whispered, turning her face this way and that to admire herself. “I don’t mean to sound overly prideful, but…I think I look quite pretty.”
“You look more than quite pretty, Rosie,” Elle promised, squeezing her shoulders gently.
She met Elle”s gaze in the mirror. ”Are you ready?”
Elle let out a long exhale. ”As I”ll ever be.”
They hooked arms and headed downstairs. Jocelyn teared up at the sight of them and Callum cleared his throat roughly, his own eyes glassy.
”You both look quite bonny,” he said gruffly, kissing each of them on the cheek.
They took the carriage to some Duke”s house—Elle couldn’t remember his name. It could be the Duke of Buckingham for all she knew—and she tried to remember everything she”d learned over the last six weeks. The dance steps, the etiquette. The biggest rule was apparently do not be caught alone with a man, but Elle was pretty sure she could handle that one.
Elle stared in wonder at the house that was one small step below a castle in her opinion, and the wonder only grew as they entered. It was absolutely gorgeous, the absolute definition of opulence with its grand staircases and soaring ceilings painted with heavenly scenes, and the ballroom was no exception. Huge mirrors in gilded frames hung on almost every wall making the room bright and lively, with candles and overflowing bundles of flowers and crystal accents on every available surface. The floors were painted with an intricate pattern of leaves and flowers, all in shades of gold, and a band—or hell, maybe it would be considered a small orchestra—played softly from a large balcony on the far end of the room. Elle had been to plenty of high-class events over the years with Ashton, but this was on a whole different level.
The girls were all in beautifully elegant dresses and the men wore striking suits, the jackets having long tails. Elle felt like she was in a movie, or a dream. As they made their way down the grand staircase into the ballroom, almost every head turned in their direction, admiring glances falling heavily upon them. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall. Before Elle could even blink, she and Rose were bombarded by men, all asking for dances.
The night became a blur of swirling skirts and casual conversation, mostly revolving around her accent, how she was enjoying London, and complimenting how she looked. It was fun. Really fun, actually. Many of the other girls looked stressed and tense beneath their beaming smiles and Elle felt a twinge of guilt. They were all here in the honest hopes of finding a husband and starting a life. She was just here to have a good time in a pretty dress. Many of the girls looked at Elle with clear challenge, seeing her as competition. Though Elle completely understood the situation from their point of view, she did her best to diffuse the hostility. She’d been on the bitchy end of a Mean Girls-esque clique once upon a time and she never wanted to be that person again. She gave genuine compliments to the other women, fixed a shy girl named Emma’s hair when her pins had been knocked loose, and though some seemed taken aback or even suspicious, many thawed towards her.
After a bit, Rose and Elle took a much-needed break and found drinks.
”This is amazing,” Rose beamed. ”Everything I dreamed!”
”It is pretty amazing,” Elle agreed with a smile as she took a sip of the punch. Her eyes flew wide as she barely stifled a cough. “Woooo,” she whispered, “that is some punch.” When she’d heard the word punch, she’d imagined something light and fruity with sorbet in it, like she had at the engagement brunch Ashton’s mother had thrown for her, but this was more like the punch she’d made in a trash can in college that led to bad decisions and fantastically hazy memories.
“Mmm,” Rosie hummed, taking another sip, “I like it.”
Elle laughed but then whispered, ”Oh, incoming,” from the corner of her mouth as a young man approached.
He inclined his head. ”Miss Montgomery, I wonder if I might fill a spot on your dance card?”
Rose was eyeing the man with extreme interest from her spot semi-hidden behind a pillar, a flush creeping up her cheeks. Rose had been happy with all of the men she’d danced with so far, but she hadn’t looked at any of them like that. Elle took another look at the boy. He was very cute, with curly brown hair, light brown eyes, and dimples. Elle Montgomery, Matchmaker Extraordinaire, at your service.
”Mister…?”
”Delvington. Percival Delvington.”
”Mister Delvington,” Elle said, nodding. ”I”m afraid all the dancing has made me feel a bit faint. I believe I need some air, but I”m sure my cousin, Miss Rose MacTavish, would love to dance with you.”
Elle yanked Rose forward and Percival”s eyes widened in appreciation.
”Rose speaks three languages, is well read, and plays the harp beautifully,” Elle added, laying it on a little thick, but who cared? Rose blushed again but couldn”t hide her smile.
”I-I would be most honored, Miss MacTavish,” Percival said, giving her a bow and extending his hand.
Rose inclined her head and took it, letting him lead her onto the floor. Rose looked over her shoulder, and Elle winked at her. Another man approached, but Elle pretended not to notice, walking the other direction. She really did need a break, so she tried to make her way through the throng of people and to the doors leading outside. She smiled and gave small nods of acknowledgment as she wound her way through the crowd along the side of the room. She turned back to watch Rose and Percival and her lips curled upward. They were staring at each other as they danced and Elle thought that there were most definitely sparks flying.
Elle turned forward again just in time to run right into someone. The man”s drink sloshed out of his glass on the impact, liquid splashing over her chest.
”Oh!” she gasped.
She glanced up to find deep green eyes staring down at her quizzically. Tall, with light brown, tousled hair, an aristocratic nose, chiseled cheekbones, and though it certainly wasn’t the norm here, he had a bit of a five-o’clock shadow that instantly intrigued her. He could have stepped right out of an ad for high-end cologne. Handsome. Beyond handsome. There were plenty of attractive men here tonight, but not a single one had caught her attention like this one.
His eyes flickered over her and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. She finally recovered from her initial shock and began furtively wiping at her chest to clear away his drink—whisky from the smell of it. She was probably ruining her gloves, but whatever. She didn’t particularly like them anyway, but she’d resigned to wearing them. Stockings on the other hand had been a hard pass for her.
”My drink,” he finally said.
”I”m sorry?”
”Ah, good, so you do know how to apologize.”
”What?” She stopped wiping her chest and yanked her gaze up to meet his again.
”Well, you did spill my drink. It is only polite to apologize.” His voice was smooth, his accent swoonworthy. “Are proper manners not taught to ladies in the Ton these days?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
”You have got to be kidding.”
”Oh, I never kid about choice alcohol. This is a lovely vintage and you wasted half of it.”
”You spilled your drink on me. I thought the men in the Ton”—eye roll—”were supposed to be gentlemen,” she shot back, knowing she shouldn’t.
“I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
Elle glanced around, casting a smile to a few other men who were waiting in the wings for her to finish her conversation. She knew better, but she didn’t care. She would blame the punch. She shifted her gaze back to Captain Jackoff.
“And I never claimed to be a lady,” she said quietly before knocking the bottom of his glass, spilling what remained of his drink. He leapt backwards, blinking in surprise as he watched the contents splash to the floor. He quickly cut his eyes back to hers. The look was a mix of annoyance and surprise.
“Clumsy me,” she said sweetly before storming off.