Chapter Two
An orchestra was tuning its instruments at the far end of Mrs Hitchings’ ballroom.
The scratch of a bow on a violin string jarred Grace Wilmott’s already frayed nerves.
Her tendency to act first and think later had potentially ruined her prospects before she had even begun her entrance into English Society.
She should have asked that man’s name, regardless of propriety.
It was better than constantly worrying about who he might be.
Next to her, surveying her servants’ work in transforming her ballroom into a glittering delight, Mrs Hitchings beamed.
Turning to Grace, she flicked an eye over Grace’s outfit.
‘You, my dear, look resplendent. What a wonderful idea it was of mine to host a ball in your honour. You will soon have all the eligible men of London dangling after you and everyone shall be grateful to me for bringing you into our fold.’
Grace laughed at her friend’s pronouncement, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that had plagued her for two long days.
‘You are too kind, but I thank you for the compliment. You were right to send me to Madame Madeleine. She is a most talented seamstress and has provided me with a wealth of gowns I hope to put to use.’
‘I think you shall be a great success, for who could not like you?’
Grace reached over and squeezed Mrs Hitchings’ hand, forever grateful that she had met the older woman when she had.
On the first night of a six-week crossing of the Atlantic, they had been seated next to each other for dinner.
The journey, with its tall waves and cramped conditions, had been a terribly uncomfortable affair, made bearable by one another’s company.
They had bonded over the fact that they were both widows.
The difference was that Mrs Hitchings had loved her husband and still missed him desperately, even after five years, and Grace would be hard-pressed to name one good thing about the man to whom she had been married for twelve miserable years.
Towards the end of the journey, Mrs Hitchings had offered to sponsor Grace into Society and she had readily taken her up on the offer.
It wasn’t so much that Grace wanted to join the ranks of the English Ton, rather it had turned out to be a necessity.
Mrs Hitchings had told her that one could not call on someone one did not know.
Grace supposed that, armed with the knowledge she had, the family she wished to speak to might make an exception to this rule, but she needed to do this right.
Everything had to be done correctly, hence this ball and this outrageously expensive dress, which did wonderful things for her figure.
Short as she was, she had always felt rather like a suet dumpling, but somehow Madame Madeleine had given her curves and made her legs look longer. The woman was a miracle worker.
‘The carriages have begun arriving,’ said Mrs Hitchings. ‘Are you ready, my dear?’
‘I do not suppose I ever shall be.’ A fine tremor was running through Grace at the significance of what she was going to do, and the hurdle she may or may not have created for herself by getting into a row with an English gentleman.
A man who was clearly dicked in the nob, but a gentleman nonetheless.
‘Where has this doubt come from? This is not like you. Tonight will be fabulous, you shall see.’
Grace hadn’t been able to admit to her dear friend, who had spent so much of her time and money to try and make this evening a success, that she may have scuppered her chances of being accepted before she had even begun.
The man she had met two days ago may have been rude, but he had definitely been a well-bred gentleman.
It had been hard to tell when he had been in the water, but up close it was obvious.
His clothes were cut from the finest material and everything about the arrogant curl to his lip had screamed money and social standing.
He’d ignited her temper and she had exploded.
She had called him names, been sarcastic and argumentative and had not acted, not for a second, like a lady.
Her behaviour had been utterly ruinous and it would take only one word from him for the Ton to shun her.
If that happened, all her carefully laid-out plans would be shattered before they began.
The worst of it was, she had no idea who he was; there was no way to prepare herself for his arrival or to feign a headache if she heard his name called.
She inhaled deeply; she had run out of time to ponder the problem further. Mrs Hitchings’ butler opened the ballroom doors and announced the first guests.
Many introductions later, Grace’s head was swimming with names she would never remember and the line of people waiting had finally died down. Fortunately, her worst fears had not come true and that man had not arrived. She was safe, for now at least.
‘I think we should take a turn around the room,’ said Mrs Hitchings. ‘More guests may arrive later, but let us talk to the ones we have.’
‘Of course,’ said Grace, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.
The man she needed to avoid for the rest of her life had not turned up, but then neither had the family to whom she wanted to make herself known.
No matter, she would make the best of the evening.
There was good food and dancing to be enjoyed and new friends to be made.
Life was short and she was being given a second chance at it.
She was going to make it an excellent one, provided she could avoid scandal, which could be difficult for a number of reasons. None of which she wanted to dwell on.
‘There are rather a lot of people here,’ said Grace, as they walked towards the guests, who, if the chatter was anything to go by, were already having a grand old time.
‘Oh no, this is nothing,’ said Mrs Hitchings, her hand fluttering in the general direction of the dance floor, which was heaving with more people than Grace had ever seen in one place.
Grace wondered if this clear downplaying of success was an English thing or specific to her friend.
As yet, she had not met enough English people to discern how their manners were different from those to which she was used.
‘As I said, it would be a much larger affair should the Season be underway, but it is not a bad showing considering many families are at their country estates. Now then, who shall we speak to first?’ continued Mrs Hitchings, gazing around at the masses.
‘There is Mrs Meadway. You will have to engage with her at some point, but, my dear, make sure you do not tell her anything. She is hugely influential, but also a dreadful gossip.’
Instead, the two of them joined a group that consisted of a few women her own age and their husbands and for a while Grace engaged in polite conversation with them, before Mrs Hitchings moved them on.
More people arrived, swelling the ranks, and by the time they were halfway around the room, Grace’s head was spinning trying to remember names and match them with the stories Mrs Hitchings had told her during the journey across the ocean.
‘Ah, this could be a great connection, the best if we could manage it.’ Mrs Hitchings swept them into the path of two elegantly dressed women. ‘Lady Blackmore, Lady Edward, may I say how delighted I am to see you both.’
The two women curtsied, friendly but reserved. They both looked younger than Grace, but not so much for a friendship to prove impossible. As much as Grace adored Mrs Hitchings, meeting people closer to her own age would be pleasant and might help her with her main aim.
‘May I introduce my dear friend, Mrs Joseph Wilmott. She is recently arrived from America.’ The name Joseph Wilmott still made Grace startle a little, even though it had been she who had invented it.
It may have been Grace’s imagination, but Lady Edward seemed to flinch at the mention of Grace’s home country. If she had, no one else noticed, and the conversation moved on quickly before the two women were claimed by their dance partners. As they walked away Mrs Hitchings was all smiles.
‘That went very well.’
Had it? Grace didn’t think the women were overly interested in forming an acquaintance with her.
She made a noise she hoped sounded like an agreement.
A heavy weight was forming on her chest. All around her was a sea of people and she could barely remember a single name, let alone titles.
It was all very well starting afresh, but it was going to be harder than she had anticipated.
Besides, in this melee how was she supposed to find the one family to whom she wanted to be introduced without making it obvious?
They might not even be in London for the summer.
A task that had seemed easy when she had thought it up now seemed impossible.
‘Did I mention the Dashworths to you during that interminable journey?’ Mrs Hitchings asked.
Grace’s heart leapt at the name. ‘Yes, you did.’ Exactly ten times to be precise.
Grace had not wanted to show particular interest in the family.
She was moving as cautiously as possible and had confided nothing at all to Mrs Hitchings, but she had hoarded those snippets of information like diamonds.
‘They are one of the oldest ducal families in the country.’ Grace already knew this.
‘There were five brothers, although one of them passed away in America.’ Again, this was something with which Grace was very familiar and caused her heart to ache, even though the tragic loss had occurred over two years ago, nearly three if one wanted to be accurate.
‘Now the three younger brothers are married.’ That piece of information Grace did not know.
‘Only the duke is left on the marriage mart. The fight to win his hand is going to be the biggest event of next Season. I am sure of it.’