CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Viola laughed as she and Ruby descended the last stair into the foyer. She truly did not know what had come over her. Since their return from the stroll in Hyde Park, Vi had enjoyed a most jovial mood, and quite looked forward to their next outing. Maybe ices at Gunther’s. There was something about this town, her fancy new dresses and her friend at her side, which instilled hope. Not only hope that the remaining part of the season would pass without further embarrassment to her father, but a genuine optimism for her own future.
Could it be possible, despite the continued gossip, that society could forgive and forget her transgressions? She was not naive enough to expect this, but she couldn’t help but dream of the possibility.
“Tell me, which outfit will you wear first?” Ruby asked, but did not wait for an answer before she continued. “I for one plan to wear the puce dress. You and the modiste were quite right, it does indeed suit my coloring.”
They continued toward the dining room, arm in arm, much as they had walked while in the park. “You must trust my guidance more,” Vi said. “Do not forget that I have done this before.”
“And you did it smashingly well, from what I have heard.” Ruby barely made it through her reply before she giggled.
Viola smiled, taking the joke for what it was. “Point taken.”
They entered the open door to the dining room, where Vi’s father and Lady Darlingiver sat, awaiting their meal.
“Ah, good evening, you two!” Her father’s tone suggested a new zest for life, one that had assuredly been missing when he was rushed to the country not long ago. “I see you are both enjoying your time in London.”
Vi was hard pressed to agree, for she’d resisted accompanying her father to town for so long. “I find the change in scenery refreshing, Father.”
“And you, my dear? This is your first time in town, if I am not mistaken.” He turned his dashing smile on Ruby, and Vi breathed a bit easier.
“It is, my lord. Thank you so much for the beautiful gowns.”
“Nonsense, my child. You are as another daughter of my own.”
Vi took the seat next to her father, Ruby on the other side. As the footman pushed in her chair, Vi swore she saw tears glisten in her friend’s eyes.
“Lady Darlingiver was just going over all the invitations she has accepted on your behalf, Viola,” he said, giving the woman a warm smile. “Do tell what you have planned, dear.”
All eyes turned to the older woman. Ironic that she had not wanted anything to do with them in the park earlier, but now—in the presence of her father—Lady Darlingiver was the epitome of polite hostess.
“After visiting with you both in the park this afternoon, I went directly to Madame Sauvage’s shop to verify that gowns would be ready soon.”
“Go ahead, tell them, my dear.” Her father practically bounced in his seat, excitement radiating from him.
Lady Darlingiver looked from Vi to Ruby and then back to Lord Liperton before she set her utensil down and spoke. “I had hoped to keep it a secret a bit longer, but I agree with your father.” She turned back to Vi. “You will need time to prepare.”
The woman’s smile grew. Unease filled Vi, sending a shiver down her spine. “The word is spreading quickly about your return to town. I thought a celebration should be in order. So, I—”
“What do you mean, ‘celebration’?” The question came from Ruby before Vi could utter a word. Her mouth was still open, gathering wool.
“Well, Lady Viola—and you, as well—need a proper introduction to society. Have either of you noticed that not one person has arrived to visit or leave their calling card?” She raised her eyebrows in question and folded her hands in her lap.
Vi had been dreading the day she would be forced to attend a soiree, actually secretly holding out hope the modiste might misplace their gown order.
“I see you have not.” A smug smile replaced the dowager’s serene one. “It is highly improper—as you should know, Viola—to call on a person without a proper introduction. So, I am hosting an intimate dinner party in your honor.”
“Intimate?” Vi recalled the ‘intimate’ group Lady Darlingiver had invited to her coming-out ball during her season. It was a laughable term to use. Invites had been sent to every lord, lady, sir, and miss in all of England—and possibly a few close to the Scottish border. “Father, tell me you—” She turned an angry look on him.
“Now, Viola, calm down. Are you not serious about finding a husband?”
Of course she was not serious about finding a husband, but she could not tell her father that.
Her father continued. “And I am not a young man. What will happen to you after I leave this earth?”
Viola reached over and set her hand on his. “Do not speak like that. I did agree to come to London.” She sounded evasive, even to her own ears.
“There will only be fifty of our nearest and dearest friends invited,” Lady Darlingiver continued. “This, by London standards, is quite intimate. Do you not agree, Lippy?”
“I concur,” her father said and picked up his fork, signaling his involvement in the conversation was at an end.
But Vi was not done with the conversation—not even close. “And when will this ‘intimate dinner party’ occur?” It was like pulling teeth.
“Why, tomorrow evening, of course.”
And just like that, Vi’s control over her return to society was taken from her—if she’d ever had the control in the first place.
She turned a pleading look at Ruby, begging for her help.
“I do hope our gowns are ready in time.”
Vi kicked her foot out, catching her so-called bosom friend squarely in the knee.
“Ouch,” Ruby said and reached her hand under the table to squeeze Vi’s leg, barely above her knee.
Vi latched on to her only thread of hope to avoid the upcoming disaster that would be Lady Darlingiver’s dinner party. “Madame Sauvage could not possibly have evening gowns ready in time.”
The smug smile returned to Lady Darlingiver’s face. “On the contrary, dear. As I said earlier, I went round to her shop, and she will have two ball gowns ready for fittings on the morrow.”
“Ball gowns?” Both Ruby and Vi asked at the same time.
“There cannot be a dinner party without a bit of dancing afterwards,” her father said as he lifted a forkful of quail to his mouth.
“That is very true.”
At that moment, Vi longed for the serenity of Foldger’s Foals. When the household was up in arms at her father’s unannounced arrival there, she could slip away and tend her horses, go for a long ride about the estate, or simply work in her office. In London, she would not be afforded this luxury.
Servants cleared the plates in preparation for their dessert. As a footman set individual bowls filled to the brim with cook’s plum-sauce pudding in front of them, her father joined the conversation once again.
“It is very fortunate for us that Lady Darlingiver’s son is in town. You remember the Duke of Darlingiver, do you not?”
“How can I forget Hampton?” It was all Vi could do not to roll her eyes at the thought of the insufferable boy who had followed her around during her first season. Viola was seven years his junior, but still he had seemed fresh from Oxford. Part of her wondered if that had been his way of impressing his feelings upon her.
“Vi, you have never mentioned Hampton before.” Ruby looked between Vi and Lady Darlingiver.
“Lord Darlingiver,” the woman said, emphasizing his formal name, “is an old friend of Lady Viola’s. They were practically inseparable during her season. He is most eager to renew your acquaintance.”
That was ironic, she wanted to say. He’d had all those years to visit when his mother traveled to Foldger’s Hall; his estate sat less than an afternoon’s ride by carriage from her father’s country estate. Yet, she’d seen neither hide nor hair of Hampton Darlingiver until her return to proper society. Instead of voicing her thought
s, Viola turned a smiling face to her father and his companion. “I do look forward to visiting with him after all this time.”
“Now that all that is settled, I would like to enjoy my dessert.” Vi’s father took a large spoonful of pudding and placed it in his mouth, sighing when the sweetness touched his tongue.
Viola ate her last course in silence and contemplated her coming time in London. Her search for Brock would have to be put on hold, at least for the next twenty-hours, while she dangled on strings and was led around by the old woman seated across from her. A marionette upon a stage.
She sighed. There was not much she could do until after the dinner party and ball the following evening.
Ruby leaned close and whispered, “Whatever is the matter with you? It is only a ball . . . One night.”
Ruby had never experienced a season. The thought of attending a real ball would excite her friend, and rightly so. Hadn’t Vi spent countless nights by candlelight explaining all the wonders of London: the grand balls, elegant evening dresses, and dashing gentlemen? “I had hoped to reenter society on my own terms,” Vi whispered back.
“What does it matter if your first outing is a dinner party thrown by Lady Darlingiver and her son, or the opera? At least at Lady Darlingiver’s affair, you will be surrounded by a handpicked few.”
Ruby—always the voice of reason—had a point.
“One night . . .” Vi whispered.