7. Chapter 7
It was the first ball of Lavender’s Season and Miriam was introducing her to every available young gentleman within sight.
Miriam said the ball was a crush as if that were a good thing.
But there was something quite literal about the word crush, and Lavender was feeling it.
It was as if she’d been thrown into the middle of a pond with no knowledge of how to swim, and everyone else was on shore to watch her struggle.
Nothing truly terrible had happened, there was just so much to take in and so many names to learn all at once.
Lavender had been asked to dance every dance save one, and for that time, she fled to the powder room for a sliver of privacy.
She returned in time for her next dance.
It was a miracle that Miriam could keep track of not only her own dance partners, but Lavender’s as well.
For the final dance of the evening, Lavender found herself partnering with a Lord Chilcott for a waltz.
He was of middling height with hair that couldn’t decide whether it was brown or blonde.
“I’m so pleased that the duchess deemed me worthy of being introduced to you, Lady Lavender.
Now, you must tell me all about yourself. ”
Due to their exclusive partnership, it was the first dance where Lavender felt she could have a full conversation with anyone. “There is not much to tell, my lord. I hail from the county and am the third daughter in my family.”
He spun her around another couple and pulled her a little closer to himself. “Come now, Lady Lavender. Surely there is more to tell than that.”
The only information that popped into Lavender’s head was that she was trying in vain to heal from a broken heart, a fact she didn’t want a single soul to know, let alone this prying gentleman. There had to be something else she could say. “I enjoy reading. Do you?”
Lord Chilcott groaned. “I read often enough, but I cannot say that I choose the pastime. Are you trying to tell me you are a bluestocking?”
Lavender felt her cheeks heat. Yes, she loved books and learning more about the world around her, but her mother had warned her of gaining a reputation as such.
Apparently it was out of fashion for ladies to have anything between their ears aside from clothing and courting.
“I would not go so far as to admit that.” She forced a smile. “Now you must tell me about yourself.”
The man needed no encouragement after that. Lord Chilcott was in possession of a barony and seemed quite passionate about his position in the House of Lords. He had a magnificent stallion named Thunder, and he was determined to take Lavender for a ride sometime in Hyde Park.
The idea made her nervous. There were so many bees about in the middle of the day. But if she had her long gloves and her fan, she would be able to dissuade one from finding her, wouldn’t she?
The small orchestra held out the final note of the song, and the couples broke apart. Lord Chilcott returned Lavender to the duchess’s side with a deep bow. “What a lovely companion you have for the Season, Your Grace.”
Miriam smiled at Lord Chilcott and then took Lavender’s hand to pull her close. “Isn’t she simply enchanting? I am determined to have half of London in love with her before month’s end.”
Lavender swallowed, for she didn’t doubt Miriam’s intentions. Their schedule was already full to bursting.
“Oh, don’t do that. I don’t fancy fighting for her attention with too many gentlemen.”
Miriam laughed lightly. “That is your choice. But as you are usually fighting with the Duke of Fenleigh—and he is missing—you may not need to do any fighting at all. Either way, my plans will remain unchanged.”
Lord Chilcott looked a little sheepish. “Fenleigh can stay missing for all I care.” He turned to Lavender once more. “Might I call upon you in two days’ time to take you on that ride through Hyde Park?”
Lavender looked askance from Miriam who nodded once. “Yes, that sounds lovely, Lord Chilcott.”
He bowed over her hand, kissed it, and left.
Lavender recalled the last time someone had kissed her hand—the action had felt far more exciting when coming from the footman, Tom.
It was a good thing his social standing was so far beneath hers.
Lavender was determined to marry soon, and she was determined to leave her heart out of her decision this time.
She had learned her lesson well: love was for fools.
It was hot for early May. Lavender tried to swish her skirts just enough to create a small breeze without anyone noticing.
Mrs. Moore’s tea party was being held outdoors in her small garden.
She must not have taken the size of the space into account when she’d planned for the party, as many of the ladies there were standing.
Lavender was one of these. She’d abandoned her cup of hot tea on the corner of a nearby table to hide in a sliver of shade from an obliging shrub.
A buzzing beside her ear caused her to freeze like one of the stone statues that were placed amongst the flower beds.
Not even a breath of air escaped her as she slowly opened the fan she had tied at her wrist. She didn’t know if it was a bee or a fly that was near her, but it was best not to take any chances, not with her colorful history of bee stings.
When the buzzing sound drifted off, the tension in her body melted away once again and she closed her faithful fan.
It was one of her most important accessories for her protection out of doors.
The ladies mingled with each other, but Lavender soon picked out a pattern amongst their conversations.
It seemed as if there were two different sets of people squished into this single gathering.
The division wasn’t obvious, but it was there.
It took some listening and keeping track of who was talking about what, but Lavender was quite certain Mrs. Moore had invited the ladies of her sewing circle as well as the ladies in her musical club.
A familiar young lady sidled up beside Lavender. “What a crush.”
“It is,” Lavender agreed, turning to face her neighbor. “I forgot I would be seeing you here, Miss Dalrymple. How is your family?”
“Oh, they are well. I hear rumor that your father’s health continues to decline.”
“Yes,” Lavender answered succinctly, not wanting to elaborate on the doctor’s diagnosis.
Meredith Dalrymple was the daughter of one of her mother’s particular friends .
. . if you could call their mothers’ relationship such.
Meredith had always been Lady Dalrymple’s perfect daughter, just as Rose used to be.
A topic of conversation that never seemed to exhaust the two women, both remarking about their own offspring as if they were horses in a race.
Lavender, though, was a couple years Miss Dalrymple’s junior.
It was Rose and Bluebell who had suffered through most of the comparisons.
Lavender was simply another lovely daughter, not one who garnered attention from either of the matrons.
An awkward pause stilted their conversation.
Just because the girls had always been compared to each other in the past didn’t mean that had to continue.
Neither of their mothers were here at the moment.
It was worth a try to be friendly. The more connections Lavender could make, the easier it would be for her to find someone to marry.
“Are you by chance a member of Mrs. Moore’s musical club? ”
Miss Dalrymple pulled her head back slightly. “I am in the musical club. How did you guess?”
“I seem to be overhearing a few different conversations. Everyone talks about the lost Duke of Fenleigh. But after that, conversations turn to either music or sewing, and you were talking with the musical ladies.”
“Interesting.” She looked around. “I do believe all the members of our musical club are in attendance.”
“I presumed as much. Although there is plenty of refreshment for everyone here, the garden is only set up to seat about half of us. I wonder if Mrs. Moore accidentally scheduled a tea party for both of her sets of friends at the same time.”
Miss Dalrymple’s eyes roved over the garden. “The staff is looking a little harried as well. I wonder if you are correct.”
Just then, Miriam walked over to the pair of them. “Good day, Miss Dalrymple. How are you?”
“I am quite at ease, Your Grace. Tell me, are you in Mrs. Moore’s sewing circle?” Miss Dalrymple asked.
Miriam grimaced. “I am. Lady Rose convinced me to be a part of it, although I am the worst at needlepoint out of the entire group.”
Miss Dalrymple shook her head, her blonde curls swaying alongside her face. “I do not believe that. Now tell me, is your entire sewing circle here today?”
Miriam looked around for a moment and nodded. “Everyone except for Rose. Then again, I don’t expect to see her often until the baby arrives.” She turned to Lavender. “Would you be upset if we headed home early? Lady Gilfordshire is feeling a bit peaked.”
Lavender looked over at the dowager duchess. Samuel’s mother’s dark hair streaked with gray made her look quite regal sitting next to a shrub further down the path.
“Not at all,” Lavender answered honestly. “I am a bit hot.”
Miriam nodded. “Yes, I am as well. I’ve already made our excuses.” She turned to Miss Dalrymple. “I hope to see you again soon.”
Miss Dalrymple smiled at Miriam, and then at Lavender, a calculating glint in her eye. “I’ll call on you.”
Her tone sounded ominous. Never had Meredith Dalrymple visited the Gardner home with anything resembling good intentions.
But perhaps that was more of her mother’s doing.
Lavender knew how difficult it was to make friends when her own mother was near.
If Miss Dalrymple came without her mother, there was a chance they could be friends.