Annoyed at being studied and discussed as though she were a statue, and in general treated like a horse one was intending to put up for sale, Penelope plopped her hat back on her head and rose. “I shall look forward to the presentation, my lady, the ball as well. Your kindness is much appreciated. I trust your son will deliver the necessary instructions for me in due time. However, I really ought to attend to a few matters."
Lady Harford was all graciousness in extending the warmth for which she was famous among the ton. She bade Penelope a fond farewell, while insisting she use the carriage, since Lord Harford’s presence was required most urgently by his loving mama.
Once they were alone, a very shrewd Lady Harford turned to her obedient son and demanded, “Will you kindly tell me precisely what is going on?”
For once in his life, Lord Harford found it very difficult to explain a situation to his mother. At least, to her satisfaction.
* * * *
Penny hurried down the stairs, intent upon leaving Harford House as quickly as she might, when she nearly bumped into a pretty young woman equally intent upon exiting the house, her maid trailing after her with a distressed look on her face.
“Oh, dear,” Penelope explained, “excuse me.” Taking note of the similarity between the girl and Lord Harford, Penelope ventured to say, “Would you be Lady Charis Trent?”
“I expect you are my new cousin. I had hoped to meet you. Come”—Lady Charis glanced apprehensively up the stairs, then back at Penelope—“let’s hurry.” She clutched Penelope’s arm and urged her from the house and into the carriage. The maid scurried to follow, taking an unobtrusive seat across from the elegant young ladies.
“I am excessively grateful to you, for you have contrived to make sure my ball will be the talk of the Season.” Lady Charis beamed a delighted smile at her new cousin, settling back in the carriage with a contented sigh.
Taken aback at this bit of direct speech, Penelope blinked, then carefully replied, “I fear I have had nothing to do with your ball, Lady Charis.”
“Oh, but you have, which is why I had to thank you right away. Mama had such gothic notions, and now that Jonathan has taken an interest—because of your joining me—he will see to it that everything is most recherché. You will see. Mama was in alt when he told her that he would foot the bill for the changes he wanted. He has excessively good taste, as you may know. I am most fortunate to have him for a brother.”
“Indeed,” Penelope replied, her thoughts most happily not coloring her voice. Inwardly she was quite distressed. Lord Harford had lost, or so she understood, a considerable sum of money, and now, because she had placed him in the position of helping her make her bow to Society and find a husband, he was expending a large sum on her behalf. This would never do!
“I gather a ball is horrendously expensive, or is that another topic I must not mention?” Penelope supposed it must be costly, for she’d heard of someone who was hiring a hall rather than redoing her house for the occasion.
“Jonathan would say you must not, for he is a high stickler for propriety. But I can tell you that Mama would have dipped badly into her allowance to finance the ball. Now do you see why we are both pleased to welcome you? I believe you and I shall do quite well together.” She glanced ahead, to note Oxford Street in view. “If you are going to Botibols for the feathers we shall need, do you know what to buy?”
“Three white ones,” Penelope replied grimly.
The girls were entranced at the enormous selection presented for their choice. Beginning to understand her benefactor a little better, Penelope picked out three small but perfect white plumes. She insisted upon paying for the three cream plumes, also small and perfect, for Lady Charis. “A getting-to-know-you present,” Penelope said when a delighted Charis protested.
“You sound like Jonathan when he wants to do something, so you won’t argue with him. I wonder how his wife will accept his dictates?”
Something froze within Penelope. Controlling her countenance, she inquired, “I was unaware that he had fixed his interest on anyone.”
“I met her last evening at a party. She told me in the strictest confidence that they shall marry as soon as he obtains permission from her parents. I must say, I was vastly surprised, for she seems the veriest widgeon, not at all what I would have expected.” Lady Charis clung to Penelope’s arm as they left the feather warehouse to enter the carriage once again.
“A widgeon? Well, considering his views, perhaps he fell in love with her. Is she pretty?” Penelope told herself she was glad Lord Harford had found someone to love, since he seemed to feel it so necessary in marriage.
“Rather a quiet sort of girl,” Charis said tactfully. “I found it all quite mysterious, you know, but most romantic.” Lady Charis directed the coachman to take them to Madame Clotilde’s shop.
While Lady Charis tried on her ball gown of delicate cream jaconet trimmed with knots of peach ribbon, Penelope studied the fashion plates piled on a table next to the dainty chair upon which she perched.
“Ah, Lady Penelope,” Madame Clotilde gushed as she entered the fitting room, “I have your ball gown to a point where you can be fitted. Is that not wonderful?”
Penelope’s burst of enthusiasm quickly died when she viewed the confection of white and silver lace. It was demure and terribly proper. No décolletage for her, not with silver lace ruffles around the top of the gown in vast profusion. Not an inch of her arms would show, what with her gloves touching the hem of the puffed and slashed sleeves. Although she liked the silver
