Chapter 23
“Tell us a bit about yourself, Miss Hart,” the dowager countess, Lady Hayward, prompted as the footman removed the first course of watercress soup and Oysters a la Russe. “Are you enjoying your time in England?”
Calliope set down her spoon. “Very much, Your Ladyship.”
Lady Hayward brought her glass of wine to her lips. “My son tells me he took you to see the Tower of London, as well as Westminster Abbey.”
“And Big Ben and Parliament,” Calliope replied. “He was very kind to take the time out of his busy schedule to accompany me.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Edward assured her as the footman laid down the second course of poached salmon and seared scallops in hollandaise.
Lady Hayward smiled. “And what do you like to do for fun? Edward tells me you would like to learn how to play cricket whilst at Whitefawn.”
“I would, Your Ladyship. I enjoy being out-of-doors whenever possible, although the opportunity has not presented itself as of late. Another reason I was exceedingly grateful for Lord Hayward’s tours this past week.”
“I was planning on showing Miss Hart the grounds tomorrow morning,” Edward announced, catching Calliope’s eye.
“That would be lovely,” Calliope replied.
“Yes, the morning should work,” the dowager countess commented as she sliced into her fish. “Although you must be back by noon to welcome our other guests.”
Edward frowned. “Other guests?”
“Oh yes,” his mother replied. “When you informed me Mrs. Hart and her daughter would be staying with us, I thought it the perfect opportunity for a house party.”
“What a splendid idea,” said Mrs. Hart, although Calliope noticed her mother took a bigger gulp of wine than usual following this revelation.
No doubt she had hoped Edward and Calliope would have the run of the estate by themselves, either to fall in love or get in a spot of trouble that would force the marriage issue.
Edward flushed, clearly not pleased with this idea either. “Whom are we expecting?”
“Your great-uncle Aesop and great-aunt Bethilda,” the dowager countess explained, “along with your third cousin, Tilly. They had mentioned they would be in the area around this time in a letter several months ago, and I had forgotten all about it until last week.” She glanced at Calliope and Mrs. Hart across the table.
“They’re Highlanders who haven’t ventured farther south than Edinburgh in years. ”
Mrs. Hart forced a smile. Calliope knew it was forced because she’d grown up around that smile, the one with the harsh lines around her mouth, as if her lips wanted to pucker even as they were being spread thin. “How delightful. We look forward to meeting them.”
“It is curious,” said Edward, “that you would so easily forget the arrival of Great-Uncle Aesop and Great-Aunt Bethilda. Your mind is usually sharper than a Viking’s axe. Are you growing senile in your old age, Mother? Should I be worried?”
His mother turned an icy glare on him. “Sometimes these things just slip through the cracks.”
Time for a change of subject.
“This hollandaise is remarkable,” Calliope sputtered. “Really, it’s very, um, well, remarkable. Do you know what your cook puts in it to make it so . . . so . . .”
Mrs. Hart arched a brow. “Remarkable?”
Calliope nodded. “Precisely.”
But the dowager countess remained engaged in her staring contest with the earl, each of them daring the other to make the first move, and they didn’t pay her the slightest attention.
The dowager broke first.
“Besides,” his mother said, returning to her meal as if she hadn’t just spent the better part of a minute glaring at her son, “the Liggenbaums are holding a small country dance on Friday evening, no more than a hundred guests or so, and they were delighted to hear Uncle Aesop would be here to demonstrate his sword dancing abilities.”
“My,” Edward murmured from around his wine glass. “You have been busy.”
“It will be great fun,” the dowager countess continued, ignoring her son. “Have you ever seen a traditional Scottish sword dance, Miss Hart?”
“No, Your Ladyship,” Calliope answered. “I don’t believe I have.”
Edward met her gaze and mouthed the words I’m sorry, making Calliope smile in spite of herself.
After they finished their seventh course and the plates had been removed, the dowager stood. “Shall we go through?”
“I was actually hoping to show Miss Hart the Hall of History,” Edward announced. “That is”—he flicked his gaze to Calliope—“assuming she has any interest in the prospect?”
Although this was exactly the sort of thing Calliope would normally enjoy, she was not entirely certain she wanted to spend any time alone with the earl tonight, for it could only result in more confusion on her part.
Still, she nodded, knowing her mother would consider it the height of impropriety to reject the earl’s invitation.
“I would love to.”
Mrs. Hart made to stand. “I suppose I’ll go as chaperone then.”
“No need.” The dowager countess waved her back down. “McAllister?”
The butler stepped forward from his position next to the sideboard. “Yes, Your Ladyship?”
“Could you spare one of your footmen to go to the Hall of History ahead of His Lordship and Miss Hart, to stand by in case they are in need of anything?”
“Of course, Your Ladyship.”
“Splendid,” the dowager countess remarked as McAllister whispered in the ear of a raven-haired footman, who abruptly turned on his heel and quit the room.
“That will provide Mrs. Hart and myself the opportunity to get to know one another better. Will you join me in the drawing room for tea, Mrs. Hart?”
“Of course,” said Calliope’s mother.
The two women stood and left in a swish of brocade skirts, leaving Calliope and Edward alone. She glanced his way and jumped slightly upon realizing he was already standing next to her, a gleam in his eyes that took her instantly back to the opera box.
Surely he wouldn’t try to kiss her again in this so-called Hall of History with a footman present?
She hoped not, for if their previous encounter was any indication, she did not know that her common sense would prevail against such an advance, and she needed it to, badly, lest she lose herself in the process.
“It is vitally important that an American debutante searching for an English husband present herself as a cultured, well-mannered, agreeable young lady. She must work even more diligently than her English counterparts to impress not only the newest crop of marriageable bachelors, but their mothers as well, who will undoubtedly have a say in their sons’ bridal selections.
To this end, the American debutante must strive to know everything there is to know about the lineage of each individual prospect.
While a gentleman may not care one way or another if his bride knows the name and title of his second cousin twice removed on his mother’s side—indeed, may not even know such a person exists—a future mother-in-law will greatly appreciate this attention to detail. ”
—Madame Dupré