Page 41 of Leap of Faith
“The ball is fast approaching.”
“And just like that?”
“Until it ceases to be amusing.”
“You have been spending a good deal of time with Miss Whitford.”
Dominic gave his friend an icy glare that froze most people from more impertinence. Rotham laughed.
“For that matter, you have been favouring Miss Hope.”
“I have, haven’t I?” he agreed with an unrepentant grin.
“Careful, Rotham. I am their guardian. I expect you to help me protect their reputations.”
“You realize once the gates are open after the ball, it will be an endless flood of proposals?”
“Am I to expect one from you?”
Rotham didn’t answer. Dominic knew what his friend said to be true, but he would make it very clear that he would not entertain fortune hunters or rogues.
They turned their attention towards the luncheon spread out before them, which was a feast of fried chicken, cold meats, egg salad, fresh bread, and fruits with some jam tarts and elderflower wine.
Dominic watched dispassionately as his friends charmed his wards. Perhaps it had not been wise to allow practiced rakes and rogues to be their first experience with the opposite sex, but on the other hand, they would have friends and a little bit of practice conversing. So long as that was all they learned, he thought with a frown, but it was too late to recriminate with himself now.
A deep, rich laugh startled Dominic out of his musings, and he was surprised to find Miss Whitford laughing at Carew. What precisely was he about?
Did Dominic care? That was an interesting thought—not one he cared to reflect too much upon. Very little moved him beyond himself, his family, or his close friends. He had been pursued and courted by every beauty and noble house with an eligible daughter this past decade or so, yet none of them had ever stirred more than a passing acknowledgement of their charms. Certainly there was never any desire to make a permanent connection or bestir himself to give up the comforts of bachelorhood—for there were many that would be forfeited upon such an occasion as wedlock. Miss Whitford certainly held allure, but her beauty could not be enough to provoke this feeling within his breast. So what emotion did he feel now if it was not affection? Jealousy? Even pique?
Pique was certainly more comfortable than either of the other feelings, he decided. Perhaps it was only that Miss Whitford was indifferent to the rank and fortune that drew the other females of his acquaintance like ants to honey. He liked her better for it, but realized it did not reflect well on him that he had come to expect it as his due. As her guardian, he had no right to claim her attentions for himself. It was only the novelty of a female’s indifference, was all. Having satisfied himself with these revelations, he determined that it did not matter one whit.
CHAPTER10
Faith was relieved that the day of the ball had arrived and yet, was terrified to face theton. They’d had an informal introduction to members of Society through their activities with their guardian, but Faith had little confidence that they were truly prepared for what they were to face. The sensation they created was made greater by their number, but at least they had each other—equally a blessing and a curse.
After debating ad nauseum, Lady Westwood had decided they should be gowned in white after all since they were supposed to be angels. She had decided their colour would be in their jewels. Lord Westwood presented them with tiaras encircled with different coloured jewels which would be their halos—diamonds for Faith, pale rubies for Hope, emeralds for Patience, and pearls for Grace. He’d even had one of aquamarines made for Joy so she would not feel left out. Faith prayed they were paste but was too afraid to ask.
The gowns were similarly clever—the front was designed like that of a Grecian goddess, tied over their shoulders with a dipped neckline, the delicate material flowing from just below the bodices from beneath a golden belt. The backs were designed with pieces of fabric at different lengths, which looked as though they had wings when they walked. Faith was not certain how that feat of sewing had been accomplished, but she appreciated it, nevertheless. Their gowns alone would create a sensation if the girls inside them did not.
Lady Westwood did not have them attend the dinner held beforehand—she wanted their presentation to be a complete surprise. Personally, Faith would have preferred to meet the smaller group of thirty or so distinguished guests first.
They were sent their dinners on trays, but most of them could do little more than pick at the food, so excited as they were.
Joy had no such qualms. She attacked the meal with all of the gusto of the girl still growing to her maturity.
They watched from the upstairs windows as the guests began to arrive, speculating on who each of them might be.
“It is too far to see well,” Hope complained.
Matrons with turbans, bedecked in fortunes of jewels, and their portly elder husbands arrived first.
“I hope the guest list does not consist only of old frumps!”
“You know our particular friends will be here, at least. They are promised the first set with us, and you know it is not fashionable to be early!” Patience said.
Joy sat curled up in the window seat stroking Freddy Tiger, who was purring almost as loud as the orchestra tuning their instruments below.
The new governess had arrived that day, a Miss Hillier, but she would not begin her official duties until the morrow. Joy wanted to be with them whilst they waited anyway.
