Page 28 of The Best of Friends
Daria nodded. That was not very much to ask on short notice.
“What else can we do to help with your plans?” Artemis asked.
“I think it would be a wonderful thing to have some new games to play.” Daria had given some thought to that. “What if all of us came with a game in mind? That would allow us to be entertained throughout the evening.”
“An excellent idea,” Gillian said.
“Do you really think so?” Daria pressed.
All the Huntresses added their agreement, and Daria felt instantly more confident in her plans. More than their enjoyment rested on her success, though they didn’t realize as much. Daria didn’t want to live with her great-aunt. And her lack of prospects had been given as the primary reason she was not to return to London. If she could show that she was useful, even as a spinster daughter, she would have an argument in favor of remaining.
“Now that we’ve sorted that,” Artemis said, “time for a Gunter’s indulgence.” She grinned at Daria. “What is something your parents would absolutely not choose for you to enjoy here?”
“An ice.” It was such a simple thing, so frequently chosen that Gunter’s was particularly known for the treat Daria’s parents had allowed her the indulgence only once before.
Artemis nodded. “An ice it is.”
“And a point in your competition,” Gillian added.
Daria and Toss had devised the game to make the Season more enjoyable. How grateful she was that they had; her sojourn in London—the last one she might ever have—was already the better for it.
Chapter Twelve
Daria was nervous as thetime approached for her soiree. She was also extremely excited.
Many aspects of interacting with Society were difficult for her. Those gatherings at which conversation grew deep and complex often made her feel stupid. When time spent among thetoninvolved reading aloud, she was sent nearly into a panic. But evenings like the one she had planned, when no one was jostling for importance or trying to prove their worth to anyone, were among her favorite things. She looked forward to them, deeply and thoroughly enjoyed them.
Now that she’d taken Rose’s advice to heart and had chosen to do something she looked forward to, she found herself eagerly wishing there were a way for her to do this again. It was what her father often labeled as counting the chickens before the eggs were done, or something like that. When he spoke in metaphors, he often did so very quickly, too fast for her mind to sort out what he’d said and what he’d meant before he moved on to something else. She didn’t always hear every word, and that would confuse anyone.
At least that was what she always told herself.
Eve and Nia were the first to arrive that evening, Eve with her arm hooked through the handle of the basket. Beneath the cloth was, most likely, the scones she’d agreed to bring.
“I can see you drooling already,” Eve said, her amused grin firmly in place. “Prepare yourself for the very best lemon and bilberry scones you have ever eaten.” Stepping inside, she held the basket out to the housekeeper. In imperious terms Daria didn’t think she’d ever heard the usually jovial Irish woman use, Eve said to the housekeeper, “These are to be served with the tea this evening.”
Mrs. Key dipped a fast curtsy and rushed from the entryway.
“That was impressive,” Daria said.
“I simply did my best impression of a particularly memorable neighbor of ours back home. She has the most delightful way of taking charge of any situation.” Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she added, “I wanted to stave off any objections that might be made about guests bringing food in case your cook proved as temperamental, as those of her profession sometimes do.”
“Have you ever considered a career on the stage?” Daria asked, somehow light-spirited enough to tease even with the weight of the evening still on her. “That was a masterful performance.”
“If she was going to take up a profession not open to ladies, ’twouldn’t be the stage.” Nia lowered her voice. “Eve would likely move to Paris and open a bakery.”
Daria laughed a little, walking with the two sisters into the drawing room. “And would your specialty be scones?”
“Eve’s scones are wonderful,” Nia said. “And yet, they are not the most impressive thing she bakes.”
“Youbaked the scones?” She’d assumed the O’Doyles’ cook had done so.
“Out of necessity,” Eve said quickly and quietly as her eyes spotted Tobias across the drawing room. “The daughters of the house doing the baking is not always looked on with acceptance, let alone approval. I don’t generally admit to it.”
That was an understatement. Daria had known the O’Doyle sisters for two years and considered them close friends, yet she’d had no idea Eve possessed this talent.
“It seems your friends arrived before any of mine,” Tobias said, offering a somewhat awkward bow to the sisters.
“I understand from Daria that you invited Mr. Colm Greenberry to tonight’s festivities,” Eve said. “I don’t know him, though I am aware of him and have heard good things of him.”
