Chapter One
A ugust 1816, London
Lady Edith studied her reflection in the mahogany Cheval mirror with a critical eye. The pale blue gown she wore was quite unlike her usual white or cream walking dresses.
Her lady’s maid Mary stood nearby, an indulgent smile on her face. At least someone was pleased with Edith’s attire.
“I’m not sure about this dress.” She fiddled with the silver earbob attached to her right ear. “Louisa may have chosen the wrong color for me.”
“You look a picture, my lady,” the young maid replied brightly.
The maid was new, sent to Edith by her friend Louisa. After a year in her friend’s service, Louisa swore Mary knew how to duplicate the latest hairstyles and was an excellent judge of fashion. Edith had no mother to guide her as she moved in society and relied heavily on Louisa’s fashion advice.
Edith’s other friend, Charlotte, and her husband were away on their wedding trip. Parliament finished sessions the first week of July, and although Louisa and Edith should have already departed for the country, their plans were up in the air. Life had not been the same with Charlotte gone.
She remembered the day Charlotte took her wedding vows. Edith was seated next to Louisa in St. James’s Church, and in the pew across the aisle sat the grooms’ closest friends, Lord Wycliffe and Lord Harbury. Lord Harbury was a baron and, by all accounts, very wealthy. There were rumors Lord Wycliffe, a viscount, had financial difficulties. Edith thought him the handsomest man she'd ever seen.
The small church in Piccadilly felt uncomfortably warm, although the summer had been the mildest Edith could remember. She tore her gaze away from the fascinating Lord Wycliffe, an enigmatic gentleman who did not suffer fools gracefully. Edith was often perceived to be too light-hearted. And while she was usually content with her personality, she now fretted that such a serious man as the viscount could never be interested in her.
Edith and her friends had not been the diamonds of their first season and couldn’t be bothered to flounce about and gaze adoringly at the mostly boring crop of young bucks. If not for their beloved Thorne’s Lending Library, Charlotte might have never met, let alone be marrying, Lord Benedict Ashford.
Despite her best intentions, Edith’s attention strayed back to Lord Wycliffe. To her embarrassment, her gaze caught Lord Harbury’s. He nodded and gave her a brief smile, and she felt warmth on her cheeks as she moved her gaze to the gloved hands clasped in her lap. Drat. The baron had caught her swooning over his friend.
She roused herself from her daydream, donning her Spencer for the carriage ride to Berkeley Square.
Soon after she was seated on a plush sopha in Thorne’s Lending Library, Louisa by her side. “It is dull here in Town without Charlotte.” She looked about the library with a frown.
“I’m sorry I haven’t entertained you,” Louisa responded grumpily, her nose buried in a copy of Ackermann’s Repository . “Would you rather spend an afternoon with Miss Alicia Tilford?”
Edith gave a soft sigh. “Although Alicia is a sweet young woman, she talks too much.”
“Talks too much?” Louisa sniffed. “Alicia talks more than one person should be allowed to. You are the kindest person I know, Edith, and even you must own the lady is a chatterbox.”
Thorne’s Lending Library was located in Berkeley Square, not far from Gunter’s Tea Shop. The efforts of Edith, Louisa, and their friend Charlotte during the season had saved the shop from closing. That and the purchase of the land the library sat on by Lord Ashford and Lord Harbury.
The seating area of the shop consisted of three stuffed tub chairs, a low round table, and a sopha. The pieces were constructed of rosewood and the upholstered furniture sported fabric in shades of green. The furniture and window coverings had been supplied by Louisa to aid in their quest to transform the library to draw more custom.
The arrangement created a cozy seating nook without blocking the view from the sopha out to the front windows; Edith watched passersby in front of the library for several minutes, having found nothing of note in the day’s issue of The Times . Louisa was not one to discuss politics, Edith’s favorite subject, and her father had been absent that morning when she came downstairs. They often started the day by debating current events in London.
“What do you think of my new coiffure?” she asked Louisa to break the silence, although she knew her friend would tell the truth and not spare her feelings.
“You have too many curls. You are not a little girl.” Louisa tilted her head, pursing her lips as she examined Edith’s light blonde hair. “The pale blue ribbon is a lovely foil for your hair color.”
She had asked, after all. “Do you think the rout this evening will be a crush?”
Her attention now on Edith’s face, Louisa replied, “If you’re asking whether I think Lord Cecil will be in attendance? No, I don’t believe we will see him at Lady Cairs’ rout.”
Edith felt heat on her cheeks; she couldn’t think of an off-hand response. Louisa was far too ready with her insights and opinions.
“Yes, it is obvious you are quite taken with Wycliffe.” Her friend wrinkled her nose.
“You know the gentleman doesn’t wish to be addressed as Wycliffe by his friends and family,” she replied with a sigh. “It reminds him of his elder brother.”
Louisa and the viscount had recently crossed swords during a Whist game. Having lost the contest, Louisa appeared not to have forgiven the man. Her friend was quite competitive, which Edith assumed was the result of having grown up with four older brothers.
Edith looked about. Although there were several patrons in Thorne’s that afternoon, nobody appeared to be listening to their conversation.
“Cecil inherited the viscountcy because his elder brother was murdered, and by all accounts still hasn’t come to terms with the loss.” She paused. “I imagine we won’t see the viscount again until Charlotte and Ashford return from their honeymoon.”
“So you must wait at least another sennight.” Louisa returned her attention to her magazine.
Edith picked up the day’s copy of The Morning Chronicle and glanced through the paper. An editorial about the Pillory Abolition Act caught her attention. The journalist was disappointed that the punishment could now only be used in cases of perjury or subornation.
She would have spouted her indignance at the lack of empathy displayed in the editorial, but Louisa would not be interested. Edith would have to wait to discuss the article with her father that evening.
Ever since Charlotte’s wedding, she had felt restless, as seeing her friend happily matched had put ideas in her head. If only she could find a man other than her father who would discuss her interests with her rather than look at her with alarm whenever she mentioned a subject other than the weather. She wondered if Cecil could be that man.
“Edith?” Louisa whistled softly. “Edith!”
She shook herself. “Pardon. I was woolgathering.”
“I think I know why you’re out of sorts. Now that we have saved Thorne’s from closing, it is natural to feel cast adrift. The excitement is over, and you need to find another project.”
Edith was surprised that Louisa had hit the nail on the head so accurately. Perhaps she didn’t need a husband; she needed a vocation. Alicia Tilford had mentioned that the registry office down the street could use more volunteers. She would speak to her father about working at the registry.
“I think I’ve found a worthy project, Louisa. I will volunteer at the Veteran’s Registry Office.” She grinned, pleased with herself.
“That is an excellent idea, Edith.” Louisa placed her magazine on the table in front of her. “We should leave soon to rest before the rout this evening.”
Charlotte’s mother usually chaperoned the young women, but after her daughter's wedding, she'd left Town for the country. One of Louisa’s four brothers would be their escort tonight as her family would not depart for their country estate for another week.
Louisa studied Edith’s hair again and sighed. “I will arrive at your home a few minutes early as we really must do something with your hair and I should speak with the maid I sent you. So many curls! Mary should know better.”