Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

“It’s a shame you can’t wear your diamond pendant,” said Otis. “It was quite distinctive. Some harpy probably owns it now.”

“It’s no use lamenting,” Jilly said. “My old wardrobe helped us purchase Hodgepodge.”

“That’s true.”

Her observation appeared to have the intended effect—Otis seemed happy again. He helped her dress her hair in a simple, elegant style, à la Sappho, and handed her a lovely fan.

She was ready.

He gave her a hug. “Your mother’s fan will distinguish you—that and your beautiful eyes. They are your jewels. You need no others.”

She almost teared up at his sentimental foolishness. It wasn’t until he opened the front door of Hodgepodge to escort her across the street that she became nervous.

She was going out and would be seen by the finest of London society. Every step she took across the street reminded her she was leaving a relatively safe haven and venturing into dangerous, unknown territory.

She must stay calm.

Otis dropped her at the front door of Lady Duchamp’s house and kissed her cheek. “You’ll do splendidly,” he said with a proud smile.

“Thank you. I wish you could come.” She waved good-bye to him a bit wistfully.

When the butler allowed her admittance into the house, she immediately sensed a cold atmosphere that the lavish furnishings did nothing to erase. She followed him to the drawing room and sat there alone for a good ten minutes. Finally, she got up and peeked out into the hall.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I was simply wondering … did I arrive too early?”

“No,” he said. “The young ladies should be down momentarily.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a brief smile, sat back down on a hard sofa, and waited another five minutes.

Finally, the ladies arrived, and without any sort of welcome or apology, Lady Tabitha told her it was time to go. The other three women clutched their fans, shawls, and reticules and followed behind Lady Tabitha. Jilly took up the rear.

At the carriage, she was also last to enter and squeezed in next to a young lady with a half-smile on her lips that faded when Jilly sat next to her.

The atmosphere was quite strained, so Jilly tried to soften it with a smile and an innocuous compliment. “All of you look lovely tonight.”

No one responded—instead, they began speaking of a picnic to take place the next day near Hampstead Heath—and the carriage lurched forward.

Jilly felt her face turn red.

During the rest of the ride, she sat silent and listened to their fast-paced conversation about eligible gentlemen, other women they despised (they never mentioned a one that they liked), and even talk about their experiences kissing.

“I’d like to get Captain Arrow alone in the garden,” tittered one of the ladies.

Lady Tabitha glowered at her. “He’s mine, Serena.”

Serena sat up. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Who couldn’t want him?” Lady Tabitha said, and for the first time, she looked at Jilly. “Miss Jones, tell us what you know of him.”

Her heart sped up as all of them turned to stare at her. “Well,” she began, “he’s a captain who found the peacetime navy a bit dull, so—”

“Do you have a tendre for him?” Lady Tabitha asked, her mouth curved in a sly smile.

Jilly sat up higher. “Of course not,” she lied.

“Why not?” asked Serena with a disbelieving chuckle. “Who else on Dreare Street is handsome and eligible?”

Jilly considered her words. “I’m not in the market for marriage. My business takes all my time.”

“You’re wise to know your limits,” said Lady Tabitha, a half-smile pasted on her lips.

The other women giggled.

Obviously, they knew as well as Jilly that Lady Tabitha’s remark wasn’t meant to be complimentary.

“Actually,” she said coolly, “owning Hodgepodge allows me to go well beyond the limits imposed on most women. I’m not forced to marry where I don’t want to. I can pick and choose my companions based solely upon whether I enjoy their company.”

The other women’s faces dropped a little at that, and she couldn’t help being satisfied at dampening their condescending attitudes, even if only for a moment.

She was glad when the carriage stopped a moment later in front of a brightly lit mansion. Despite the sour company, her palms dampened with nerves and a bit of excitement. She didn’t belong at the ball and shouldn’t be at the ball.

But I’m here, she thought, and felt herself buoyed by a burst of courage. And I dare anyone to tell me I don’t belong.

This time the ladies allowed her to be the first to disembark. She stood outside the carriage, looking up at the house, and wondered if the captain were there yet. The realization left her slightly breathless.

Then she wondered if Prinny had arrived. What would she say to him? How would she convince him to come to the street fair on Dreare Street?

“Here,” said Serena, and placed her reticule and shawl in Jilly’s arms.

Then the next two young ladies laid their shawls and reticules on top of Serena’s.

Jilly was so stunned, she simply stood and watched Lady Tabitha put her things on top of the pile. “Leave them in a safe place,” she said, and looked at Jilly with a gleam of malice in her eye. “Or better yet, sit with them in some corner.”

And then the four of them strode off, laughing.

So. That’s why Lady Tabitha had asked her to the ball.

To humiliate her.

But why? What had Jilly ever done to her?

The lights radiating from the house became large, blurry circles, but Jilly blinked forcefully until they returned to normal.

She would love to dump the women’s precious shawls and reticules on the ground, but she wouldn’t stoop so low. Slowly, she marched into the house, ignoring everything to the right and left of her.

“Excuse me,” said one older woman. “Are you one of Lady Langley’s maids? I need someone to repair my hem.”

Lady Langley was giving the ball with her husband, the Earl of Langley.

“No, madam,” whispered Jilly.

She didn’t belong here.

She shouldn’t be here.

The woman looked at her curiously but not unkindly. “Then who are you?” She swept a casual eye over Jilly’s gown. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a guest.”

Jilly raised her chin. “Au contraire, madam, I am a guest. My name is Miss Jones. But I’m happy to help you with your hem.”

She was so humiliated, she could barely speak.

The woman’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, my dear. I saw you with all those shawls and reticules…” She trailed off, her cheeks pinkening.

Jilly swallowed. “It’s all right. If you don’t mind leading me to the ladies’ retiring room, I can assist you there.”

“Very well. And on the way, you can tell me about yourself. I’m Lady Courtney. I’m a widow.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jilly replied.

“Don’t be.” Her eyes twinkled when she looked at Jilly. “He was the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met. But