CHAPTER SEVEN
Kensington House buzzed with activity, as the doors to the townhouse were open, and a greeting line extended down the steps.
Amelia, dressed in her sky-blue muslin dress and a silk shawl draped over her elbows, snaking behind her back, could not help but search the line discreetly for any sign of the Duke of Blackthorn.
I wonder if he shall even make an appearance, she thought.
He had forgone plenty of social events, excusing himself increasingly.
To even have seen him at Lady Smith’s ball was a rare occurrence, yet she could not help but hope he would, in fact, turn up.
Lord William and Lady Cynthia Kensington stood at the door to their home, bright, charming smiles on their faces. Beside them, Cassandra was the vision of beautiful, in a flowing seasonal gown with a curved neckline, and her hair curled up into a large, elegant bun that had pearls embedded into it.
Although Amelia felt pretty enough, she could not help feeling plain in comparison, despite the flowers Lily had arranged in her hair, and her new gown that flowed down her figure perfectly.
Her heart sank. She had never before experienced any sort of competitive thoughts against another lady of the ton but she felt a streak of insecurity as she and her family neared the entrance.
If Cassandra was attempting to win the duke’s attention she no doubt would, and Amelia would be proven right: that her one night of dancing and favor was a dream that could not continue, and the highest ranked suitor and the most beautiful woman of the ton would seek out one another.
She inhaled deeply as she and her parents took another step towards the entrance, closer to the Kensingtons. Closer to Cassandra and her cunning smile.
“Ah, Hawthornes, I am most glad you could make it.” Lord Kensington’s greeting was warm as he reached out to shake Amelia’s father’s hand. Beside him, Lady Kensington offered a polite, formal smile.
“What a beautiful day for a garden party,” Bernadette gushed, smiling brightly. “It is an honour to be here, Lord Kensington.”
As they progressed past the lord and lady, Amelia caught Cassandra’s eye.
“Miss Hawthorne,” Cassandra said, her voice as sweet as sugar. “How lovely it is to see you again, and so soon after our previous encounter. Our time in the park was most entertaining, was it not?”
With the eyes of both of their parents on her, Amelia could only nod. “Indeed. However, I hope today might feel a little… calmer.”
Cassandra only laughed maliciously, her hand flicking in dismissal as if Amelia was being foolish.
Amelia hurried on with her parents, progressing deeper into the Kensingtons’ pristine, pale house with its tall, echoing ceiling, and wide hallways.
The doors were flung open, allowing a steady flow of air through the halls.
As they were shown into the garden, Amelia could not help scan every group or passing person for the familiar face of the Duke of Blackthorn, her mind racing with the potential of seeing him again.
***
Outside, two carriages pulled up at the same time as one another.
Eleanor stepped out of her carriage, right as the Radcliffe carriage pulled up outside the Kensington manor at the same time.
Her pulse spiked as the door opened, and her eyes immediately found the soft, blonde curls of Lord Owen.
He had not yet seen her but as he closed the door behind himself, he turned, spotting her.
A wide grin broke on his face, and Eleanor wished for nothing more than to go over to him to be able to speak—to ask about anything at all so she could talk to him.
Yet she was ushered to ascend the steps to the Kensington residence, and in her haste, she stumbled.
In a blind panic of not wanting to hold up the line, Eleanor tried to hurry herself on and forgot to lift her skirts ever so slightly.
Her shoe caught on the hem of her gown, and she began to fall forward with a gasp.
But before she could collapse to the stone ground of the stairs, a strong arm caught her, pulling her back to her feet.
Her first thought was, is this how Amelia felt at the Smith ball?
And then her thoughts completely left her mind once she turned around, greeted with the face of Lord Owen.
His brows were pulled in concern as he quickly stepped back.
“Lady Eleanor,” he said lowly. “Are you all right? Forgive me for being bold enough to reach out for you but I did not wish to see you fall.”
Her face flushed and her heart raced. “I… I am fine, thank you. Your timing is impeccable.” She could barely get her voice above a whisper from both her nerves and her embarrassment.
His eyes caught hers, the deepest of forest green, and her breath shortened as the rest of the greeting line faded away, even her parents fading into nothing, as she beheld the gaze of Lord Owen.
He crooked a smile at her, and Eleanor was about to take a bold step towards him, when her mother cleared her throat.
It snapped Eleanor back into reality, remembering herself.
“Thank you,” she said quickly, realizing that although Lord Owen had stepped back, he had not entirely let go of her arm. As if only realizing this, he too cleared his throat and dropped his hold. “You have rescued me from embarrassing myself.”
“And so early in the Season? Oh, we cannot have that,” he jested. “I hope to see you inside, Lady Eleanor.” He bowed deeply and moved to the back of the line to let others slip in first.
***
Graham had been in the queue for Kensington House long enough to hear the commotion of somebody almost falling on the steps behind him, but the chaos once he entered the foyer was even louder.
His jaw clenched as he walked through, ready to greet the Kensingtons.
The whispers floated past him, sinking in.
He is brave to show his face so soon after being written about.
I wonder if Miss Hawthorne has seen him yet.
Heavens, he looks handsome in the green jacket. Although it is not his usual favored colour of black.
They swirled and swirled, an annoyance in his ear, and he tuned in to Daphne’s chatter instead as she noted the ladies around them, seeking out her friends.
Beneath the scrutiny of the other guests, Graham could only scowl.
Who were they to stare at him? He hated that they did so openly, and he could verbally say nothing against it.
He ignored them all in favor of seeking Miss Hawthorne. She clearly was here, having been mentioned.
But he could not look for long, for the Kensingtons greeted him with wide smiles.
“Your Graces,” Lord Kensington greeted, shaking Graham’s hand. “It is not often that the ton is graced with His Grace’s presence so frequently within a single week. I wonder what could be drawing you to more events.”
There was a brief flash wherein Graham experienced a surge of ire coursing through his veins, thinking Lord Kensington was boldly implying the scandal sheet, but he saw the quick glance he gave to his daughter, Lady Cassandra.
Graham could barely focus, for he saw movement of long, brown hair in the far corner of the room. Miss Hawthorne. He tried to force his attention away from her but he was not able.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Lady Kensington gushed. “Our home is open to you, and we are so happy to welcome you into it.”
“Thank you.” Felicity bowed her head in acknowledgement as they entered further.
When Graham stood before Cassandra, the girl dipped into a deep, elegant curtesy, her eyes lowering.
She looked up at him through her lashes, and he fought back an eye roll, for he had seen such performance many times.
Women prided themselves on learning these such things to impress a man.
Her voice was painfully altered to sound light and pretty when she spoke. “Welcome to our home, Your Grace. I am honoured you chose to be here today.”
“Thank you,” he replied stiffly but politely. “Your home is lovely.”
He was about to move on when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. “Well, well! If it is not my dear cousin, once again coming out his hiding place to grace the ton with his presence.”
***
The Kensingtons’ garden was an array of color and movement, guests swanning from one place to another, groups of ladies and men all speaking, shaking hands, holding glasses of wine.
Amelia huddled with Eleanor as they looked at Lord Owen and the Duke of Blackthorn across the garden.
Cassandra was hosting a particularly large group of ladies hooked onto her every word, placed near His Grace.
Amelia’s mother stood conversing with Lord and Lady Fairfax, while the Dowager Duchess of Blackthorn engaged in discourse with Lord and Lady Kensington. Meanwhile, Amelia’s own mother regarded the scene with a touch of longing, as if she yearned to be included among their esteemed company.
“It was very charming of him, and he was there in a moment’s notice!
” Eleanor was giggling, recounting her moment on the entrance steps.
“He swept me off my feet, just as you said His Grace did for you.” She sighed as if caught in a dream.
“I am so very fond of him already, Amelia. Do you think he will truly seek me out soon?”
“I very much imagine he will,” Amelia said, her eyes alighting on the two men across the garden.
They stood near a columned archway that led into a thick hedge maze.
Despite their keen gazes on the crowd, they stood aside from others, almost into the maze itself as if they craved a moment of quietness amid the loud, bustling garden.
“He is looking now,” Amelia told Eleanor, smiling softly.
“Oh, Heavens, I must not look!” Eleanor squealed, covering her mouth with a gloved hand as she laughed quietly.
Before Amelia could say anything more, a loud laugh rang out through the garden, and Amelia’s attention snapped to Cassandra, whose eyes were fixed on the Duke of Blackthorn.
He looked her way if only due to the volume of her laughter before he glanced away.