Page 9 of A Lady's Propitious Match
Clara stared at her mother blankly. “Time left for what?”
“It is the society ball tonight, Clara,” her mother tutted back. “Held by Lady Abigail Ashford. I have been talking about it with you all week long. It is going to be quite the event. I have heard that it will be deemed the best of the Season so far.”
Clara’s heart sank. She did not want to waste the evening in an uncomfortable gown, dancing with boring men when she could be finishing her latest creation. But she was wise enough to understand that she could not escape this, however much she might want to.
Her mother’s lips curved up into a smile as she regretfully placed her paint brush down.
“Now, Lord Simon Caldwell will of course be in attendance tonight, so I expect you to secure his admiration. It is your duty to present yourself to Simon Caldwell…”
“But mother…”
“Regardless of your personal sentiments.” Her mother clearly did not hear what she had to say. “I expect this to be the night where you truly secure his interest. Then we can move forward with the betrothal in a timely manner.”
Clara’s fists curled up angrily by her sides. She so desperately hoped that Elliot would also be in attendance at the ball. If there was any time for him to help her out of the terribly awkward situation that she found herself in, it was tonight.
Nodding in agreement, because there truly was no point in arguing this further, Clara followed Ruth in to her bedchambers where everything was all set out ready for the night. A long ivory gown with delicate lace along the bodice with a dipped neckline and billowing sleeves. Her mother truly had gone all out to make her look like the belle of the ball. Clara was going to draw attention to herself tonight, whether she liked it or not.
Ruth helped an unwilling Clara into the gown, ensuring it fit perfectly and folded around her curves, while maintaining her modesty. Then she turned her attention to Clara’s hair, creating intricate braids intertwined with glistening pearls, almost looking like a delicate crown. Her nimble fingers weaved the strands like magic, leaving loose curls to frame Clara’s face.
It was truly lovely, but all too much for Clara. All she could think about was the painting that she had been forced to leave unfinished.
“There, Miss Clara,” Ruth declared proudly as she took a step back to admire her handiwork. “You look beautiful. Lord Caldwellwill have his eyes on you from the moment you set foot in to the hall.”
Clara forced herself to smile back because none of this was Ruth’s fault, but that was exactly what she was dreading. To have Simon’s attention. To have to force pleasantries with everyone, but most of all him, knowing that everyone – her mother most of all – would be waiting for something magical to happen.
If only there was a chance of a miracle, changing everything tonight. Only that would make Clara eager to attend.
But eager or not, her parents were already waiting for her at the bottom of the grand stair case, with the carriage outside, preparing to take her to Lady Abigail Ashford’s fancy ball. So she had to find the inner strength that she so desperately needed to head towards her parents and to try not to be overwhelmed by their expectant faces.
Lord Reginald and Lady Estelle Belmont were extremely concerned with their social standing. The Earl and Countess of Ridgemont were not likely to take any rebellion from their daughter well. Especially when it came to marrying the right man.
