Chapter Four
Jenny stared down at the dance card in her hand. There were a few scribbled names on it, certainly more than she had expected. It seemed such an odd thing to her that gentlemen booked in a time in which they wished to dance with her, rather than simply asking her to dance. As a servant, there was no such stricture. On the rare occasions they would have a party, it was often chaotic and unorganized.
“And you thought you would dance with no one,” Alison said, chuckling as she saw Jenny look down at her card. Jenny groaned in response.
“They do not wish to dance withme, as such,” she said with a severity to her voice that made Alison take a step backwards. “They simply want to find out if the rumors are true.”
“I do not believe that for a second,” Alison said. “At least, not ofallof them.”
Jenny sighed, closing her eyes briefly before looking back at Alison.
“You’re quite right. I’m sorry. My mind is all aflutter.”
“I can see that,” Alison replied. “Listen, I know it is easier said than done, but try to calm your nerves and enjoy the evening. People will respond better to you if you are able to present a happy front.”
“I know,” Jenny said. “As you told me before, if I act cold and resentful, then I will be treated as such. I will try, I promise. It’s just… it’s all so different to me, and I am certain everyone is looking at me as though I am a leper invading their lair.”
“It will pass,” Alison reiterated. “And besides, you are hardly the only one here with a past.”
“Oh yes?” Jenny asked, intrigued.
“Yes. Let me see.” Alison held a finger to her lips as she looked out over the room. “Ah, there. Lady Olivia Chestnut. Four husbands, all but the last dead within less than five years of marriage.”
Jenny gasped, turning to Alison open mouthed.
“Did she—?”
“No,” Alison said, shaking her head. “At least, I don’t think so. The last succumbed to consumption, the one before that a carriage accident. The first, I believe, was some sort of duel. And the current husband must be shaking in his boots as they approach their fifth wedding anniversary this year.”
Jenny choked back a shocked laugh.
“It’s like some far-fetched tale in a novel,” she said, feeling confident in the truth of that. Since she learned to read at the beginning of Luke and Alison’s marriage, she had devoured novel after novel voraciously.
“Indeed,” Alison said.
“And they don’t talk about her anymore?” Jenny asked.
“Not as much, no. As I said, gossip moves on far too quickly for anyone to be in the limelight for too long. Who else? Ah, there!” Alison shook her fan in the direction of a spritely young man dressed colorfully, and with a cheerful grin on his face.
“What about him?”
“Lord Michaelson of Kentwood,” she said. “Rumor has it that he has a penchant for boys.”
“Boys? Whatever do you mean?” Jenny asked.
“As in, that is why he is not married,” Alison said.
“A molly!” Jenny gasped.
“Well, yes, but we don’t use that word in polite conversation,” Alison reprimanded. Jenny flushed. It was a word so easily bandied around in the servants’ quarters.
“Yes, quite, I apologize.” She kicked herself, annoyed she had forgotten—once again—to think before she spoke. “Anyone else?”
“Let me see,” Alison said, craning her neck as she looked around. “There’s Arabella Thompson, daughter of some Earl or other.”
“What about her?”
“Barren, they say. Unable to give her poor husband a child.”
