Hetty restrained a smile and said shyly, “Yes, indeed, it is, Miss Langley. You see, I have spent many years in the country.” If Miss Langley wished to think her a maiden beyond her years, it was fine with Hetty. Lady Corinna saw that her dear friend, Lady Eve, didn’t have the wherewithal to see that her daughter a most irritating girl was being rude to Miss Rolland. She nodded dismissal at Miss Maude and drew Hetty away to meet Miss Caroline Langley. Hetty had also seen Miss Caroline at Drury Lane, and was forced to admit upon closer inspection that this sister confirmed Lord Harry Monteith’s initial impressions. Miss Caroline was a beauty, her dark, flashing brown eyes set beneath perfectly arched dark brows. Her black hair, all the rage this season, was a cascade of thick curls, bound only by a blue velvet ribbon over her left ear. She was petite, trim of figure, her full bosom covered modestly by order from her mama, no doubt by the most exquisite Brussels lace. Miss Caroline wore a petulant expression. Hetty wanted to tell her it diminished her beauty. Her lovely eyes darted restlessly about the room. What was she looking for or who?
In truth, Miss Caroline was not only peeved, she was bored. She realized that it was highly unlikely that the man she had wanted so badly to see would present himself. The heady experience of being sought out by every young gentleman had paled over the past several weeks, and she refused to consider the thought of bestowing her beauty on any of those worshiping young puppies, as society expected her to do at the end of the season. Of course, she didn’t wish to end up like poor Maude, still sitting at the rear of the shelf at the end of her second season. But to wed any of the gentlemen so far presented to her made her want to spit, something that would make her dear mama faint. No, she wanted to attach an older man, a man with experience, a man who wouldn’t languish at her feet composing ridiculous lines of poetry that praised her slender swan’s neck. She had seen such a man, and the thought that he might be in attendance this evening had brought a delicious flush over her cheeks.
She looked up to see Lady Melberry leading over one of the sorriest excuses for a female that Caroline had ever seen. She shuddered in distaste, then planted a firm smile. After all, one shouldn’t ever appear a sour apple, like poor Maude.
“My dear Caroline, I would like you to meet Miss Henrietta Rolland, the daughter of a very dear friend of Lord Melberry’s.”
Caroline inclined her graceful neck in Miss Rolland’s direction. “Charmed,” she said, managing not to shudder at the sight, though it took great inner strength not to do so.
“Oh, how very lovely you are, Miss Langley.” Hetty thought she owed this enthusiastic compliment to Lord Harry, who, she decided, would have been far more outrageous in his flattery.
Miss Caroline looked again at Miss Rolland, surprise widening her eyes. She wasn’t used to receiving such frank praise from another lady. Indeed, she wasn’t used to receiving any praise at all from another lady. She revised her opinion, forgot her affected drawl and smiled pertly. “You are a flatterer, I fear, Miss Rolland.”
“Oh, have I offended you? Truly, Miss Langley, you are one of the loveliest ladies I have yet seen in London.”
“She only arrived yesterday,” Miss Maude said.
“Oh no, Miss Langley, I’ve been here quite some time now. Your dear sister jests.”
It occurred to Miss Caroline that such frankness and candor, such generosity of spirit, should be encouraged. After all, she had nothing better to do at the moment, and conversing with such a homely girl as Miss Rolland might very well make her appear noble and virtuous to the dowagers who had jealously proclaimed her to be conceited.
She ignored her sister and said, “Do come sit with me, Miss Rolland. I think I would like to know you better.” Hetty nodded and trailed after Miss Caroline to a small sofa by the fireplace. If she continued to fill Miss Langley’s ears with compliments, it would at least keep her from further notice by Lady Melberry’s other guests.
“Now, Miss Rolland, you must tell me all about yourself,” Miss Caroline said, patting Hetty’s hand as she sat down beside her.
Hetty knew very well that Miss Caroline could give two farthings about her and so prepared to give a very limited account of herself. She had scarce time to open her mouth, when she realized that Miss Caroline’s attention had riveted itself to the drawing room door. She saw her lips part ever so slightly and her vivid eyes sparkle with excitement. Hetty followed her gaze and stiffened.
“His grace, the Marquess of Oberlon.” Higgins’s voice was deeply resonant, bringing everyone’s attention to the gentleman who stood with negligent ease beside him.
Hetty, who had never before seen the marquess at such close range, was aware that her own eyes had widened in surprise. At a distance, she had believed him swarthy and tight-lipped, had imagined his dark eyes cold and hard. Had he displayed horns and a pitchfork tail, she wouldn’t have been overly taken aback. But now, with only the narrow room separating them, she saw that his deeply tanned face was quite pleasant to look at and that his dark eyes were warm and alight with amusement. When he laughed at one of Lady Melberry’s remarks, Hetty found his
