Priscilla smiled as she attempted to follow the conversation, a scandalous tale – it appeared – about a gentleman who simply refused to wipe his boots as he entered Almack’s.
“ – and a footman had to follow him around the room to clean up the mess he left behind!” Miss Worsley laughed as Miss Lymington’s eyes bulged.
“I cannot believe that they let him in at all,” said Miss Darby, a shyer girl whose acquaintance Priscilla had made most recently of the three. “I mean, I have not attended Almack’s, but really!”
“I swear, ’tis exactly how I described it,” Miss Worsley said impressively. “I heard it from the Duchess of Axwick herself, and you know Tabitha rarely exaggerates.”
Priscilla smiled but said nothing. It had been an excellent idea of her mother’s to accept Miss Worsley’s invitation to tea. Getting out of the house, that was the thing. Anything to be out of her own mind, and not think about Charles…
Her smile faltered. How long had she managed to go without thinking about him? A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room told her it had only been eight minutes.
Eight minutes. Was that truly all she could manage?
“I did not know you were acquainted with the Duchess of Axwick,” said Miss Darby.
Miss Worsley sniffed. “Well, I knew her before she was the duchess, of course. I knew her as Miss Tabitha Chesworth, though I do not see her often now. And do not look so impressed, Miss Darby, are you not well-acquainted with her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Mercia?”
All these damned duchesses, Priscilla thought bitterly. If things had been different, would she herself be about to become a duchess? How would her friends be treating her, as a future noblewoman of the realm?
She glanced at Miss Lymington, leaning forward to help herself to more tea. Olivia Lymington, more money than she knew what to do with. They had first met at school, years ago now, when she had been little Livvy Lymington. Her father’s wealth had occurred years later.
“There do seem to be more duchesses than anything else in London these days,” Miss Worsley said dismissively. “You won’t see me throwing myself at a duke.”
“I might,” Miss Lymington said pensively. “I mean, with my fortune, I could try for a duke. Or an earl, perhaps.”
Priscilla tried to hide a smile. Miss Lymington had little acquaintance in the nobility, unlike herself, and seemed to consider them something one could just order.
Miss Worsley seemed to have the same thought. “One simply cannot summon them up like a footman!”
The three collapsed into giggles, and Priscilla laughed with them. Miss Sophia Worsley. They were distant relations, and she was not entirely sure how. She had grown far more rebellious in the last few years after that betrothal was called off. What had happened? She had never been told the full story.
“I think most duchesses and dukes are just normal people,” Miss Darby chimed in, a little nervously. “Aren’t they? I mean, other than the riches and the privilege, and perhaps the connections and the relations to royalty and all that –I suppose that comes with property, land, that sort of thing…”
Priscilla smiled at the newest member of their group. Was it at the Montacute ball or Almack’s – no, it could not be Almack’s, Miss Darby had never attended.
Well, one ball or another, that was where they had met. She was a lovely girl, really, and she had become part of the loose group of friends and acquaintances that Priscilla saw throughout the Season.
Miss Worsley was offering to refresh their cups, and Priscilla leaned forward with the others to receive more of the delicious sweet tea.
She should be more grateful, really. There were plenty of people who had no one, no friends or acquaintances to confide in. Priscilla was fortunate to have three, at the very least, who would always be a pleasant distraction.
But without Charles, her closest friend…
Priscilla looked at the clock. Six minutes without thinking about Charles. She was getting worse at this, not better.
“ – and of course, now they are engaged to be married!” Miss Darby finished her monologue with a bright smile. “Another society wedding!”
Priscilla tried not to sigh as she leaned back with her now full teacup.
“I heard the gown Miss Isabella is to wear for her own wedding is most splendid,” Miss Worsley said, looking at Miss Lymington, who snorted.
“Yes, my sister’s wedding plans are of the most extravagant kind,” she said, not bothering to take the derision from her tones. “Issy always wanted the best, and now she has bagged a duke of her own, there is no stopping her!”
“I did not know your sister was marrying a duke!” Miss Darby leaned forward, evidently desperate for more details. “When did they become engaged?”
Priscilla did not need to look up to imagine the look on Miss Lymington’s face. Her younger twin sister engaged before her, and to a duke no less. It was no wonder Miss Lymington grew bored with the topic.
“Oh, they were introduced at some gathering or another,” she said airily. “The wedding is to be a very fine affair if my sister has anything to do with it.”
“The gown, I heard, is to be truly splendid,” said Miss Worsley with a mischievous smile on her face.
Priscilla matched her smile. How like Miss Worsley to poke fun at Miss Lymington.
“If it is anything like her hopes, it will be worth its weight in gold,” Miss Lymington said drily.
Miss Darby breathed out slowly. “That is incredible. Tell me, how exactly…”
Priscilla allowed her mind to wander, having no personal interest in either teasing Miss Lymginton or finding out every detail of her sister’s wedding.
Weddings. Weddings and engagements, those were the only topics her friends talked about, and all four of them unattached, although Miss Lymington’s thirty thousand pounds had certainly created much interest.
There was Miss Darby, no name or fortune, and that unfortunate habit of talking on so long and so fast that no gentleman
