Page 15 of A Lady of Means
“Drysdale?Staying for tea?”Jasper said, motioning to the table.
“The view must be better over there,” Olivia said in a stage whisper.
Drysdale covered his laugh with a hand and Jasper shot the youngest Pembrooke a censorious glare.“You are, as ever, one of the most astute Pembrookes, Lady Olivia.”
Olivia beamed.“It isn’t a close race.”
Both Moria and Jasper collapsed into laughter, Moria giving her brother’s arm a firm squeeze to brace herself through her laughter.Drysdale met her eyes as he came to sit next to her, smiling at her, at the easy way her family joked with each other.
All she could think was that while he was the perfect teatime adornment—handsome and good natured and warm— her heart was calling another man's name.
ChapterSix
The launchof another beautiful Pembrooke lady and a betrothal on the same night?This year’s debut ball at Lady Gretchen Von Mien’s did not disappoint the gossips.
- Scandalous Lives of London, April 1841
* * *
The very next evening,Lady Moria was prepared to capitalize on every acquaintance and piece of gossip at her disposal to ensure her younger sister’s debut ball was a success.When she entered the ball hosted by Lady Gretchen on the Earl of Drysdale’s arm, she’d registered every half-concealed half-truth the guests, both male and female alike, were whispering about her.
“Don’t be fooled by her pretty smiles-”
“Evil takes a human form in that one.”
“Your typical spoiled, selfish-”
“She’s a back-stabbing-”
“She looks flawless this evening.”
“Oh, she’s fabulous, if a little bit mean.”
“Luckily for us all, her younger sister seems rather sweet.”
Caleb Howley, the Earl of Drysdale ushered her onto the dancefloor.“You alright, my lady?”
Moria gave him a wide smile, letting him guide her even though she was a far superior dancer, because that’s what proper ladies did.And she had to betheproper lady if she was going to be a Duchess.Or if she was going to make sure Olivia got the launch she deserved.And she had toappearto at least be in pursuit of a nobleman’s hand -not a Captain’s- if she was going to achieve that goal.If all her past troublemaking and scheming maligned her sister, then what had it all been for?
Lady Moria stood on her tip toes and spoke her next words close to his ear.“You ever walk into a room and know instantly that everyone is talking about you?”
Caleb tilted his mouth to one side, thinking.“Only when I’m with you,” he said, spinning her in front of him with one hand over their heads.
“And that doesn’t ever bother you?”She asked.“You don’t want a girl who’s…sweet?”
Caleb tilted his head back on a laugh.“Who says you’re not sweet, Lady Moria?”
That wasn’t an answer to her question.Moria knew a sly deflection when she heard one.
When they exited the dance floor, Moria watched as her sister Noelle’s bookish friend Margot fumbled over her words, asking some inane question about Drysdale’s performance on the flute at the same musicale where Moria had turned down Lord Adderton’s proposal.
Moria raised a brow, Lady Althea tapped her with her cane once, muttering what sounded like:
“Put on your mask, my dear.”Moria noticed the eyes that fell on her, waiting for any misstep.She noticed the Dowager Duchess of Andover, the Duke’s mother among them, but not the Duke.
Moria schooled her features back into submission and stood straighter.Too much was riding on her tight hold on her emotions.
It seemed her sister’s shorter, curly haired friend was…flirting with Drysdale?One would presume extensive novel consumption ought to teach a wallflower better powers of flirtation.
