Page 16 of The Viscount's Pearl
Chapter 5
The Halesworth Ball
Her peaceful time with Lord Barrington having expired, Frances had reluctantly returned to London as promised and was once again enduring the boredom and strain of social expectations. The current day promising nothing but grey drizzle until the social calls of the early afternoon, Frances had taken up residence in the drawing room, curled into the rocking chair, accompanied by volume two of Donovan’sNatural History of British Shells.Her peaceful morning was interrupted when the door opened and a footman appeared.
“Lady Lilley requests that you join her in the morning room, Miss.”
Reluctantly Frances followed him to the morning room, where her mother usually spent time managing the household. She was dismayed to find a larger than usual selection of magazines laidabout, opened up at the fashion plates, and her mother looking unusually bright and cheerful.
“You will recall the tragedy that befell the Buckinghams?”
Frances did not recall anything about the Buckinghams, but whatever the tragedy was, her mother looked altogether too happy to be recounting it.
“No,” she replied, hoping by her tone to indicate her lack of interest.
“You cannot have forgotten! The Duke of Buckingham died of apoplexy and directly afterwards his son, the new duke, died in a hunting accident. It was all anyone could talk about.”
Frances gave a grimacing nod, as much to indicate that yes, she was now aware of what the tragedy was and still had no interest in it.
“Sonow,” continued her mother, oblivious to any hints, “the younger brother, Edward, is Duke of Buckingham and is to be married.”
Frances nodded again but her mother was looking at her as though this time, a nod was not sufficient. “To whom?” she asked, hoping the answer would be brief.
“I meant he islookingfor a wife,” said her mother. “The Duchess his mother has made it clear to her acquaintances that His Grace intends to find a wife this very season. They are already in town; the Duchess, the Duke and a cousin, a Miss… Miss Seton, I think. Of course, the Duchess cannot be seen to be too lavish in her clothing, since she is so recently in mourning, but her modiste told me, in the strictest confidence, that she has ordered more than a dozen dresses already, and for Miss Seton, twice that number and with a promise of more to come. They are only accepting the occasional invitation during the Little Season, they say because of the mourning and so on but we all know really it is to draw more attention to themselves. Every hostess in London is desperate to have them accept an invitation.”
Frances yawned.
“Frances!”
“Yes?”
“You are not paying attention.”
“I am paying attention,” said Frances. “Every hostess in London is desperate to have them accept an invitation.”
“Repeating my words back to me like a parrot is not the same as listening, Frances,” said her mother sulkily. “You must see that this is news of great import to us.”
“Why?”
“Because he is looking for a wife. And he is a young man, who has not previously been much in town and will not know that you are…. that this is not your first season.”
“Someone will tell him, no doubt.”
“Whether they tell him or not, for him you are new, he has not met you before.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-two, I think, so the same as you.”
“Where has he been?”
“What?”
“Where has he been all this time? The young men of thetongenerally spend years in London before they seek out a wife. Where has he been?”
“Stop repeating that, you still sound like a parrot!”
“It’s an obvious question.”
