Page 45 of Leap of Faith
“There might have been a blue one!” She laughed. “It was a perfect evening.”
“At least the war with Bonaparte is over, but are not the officers all on the half-pay?”
“Not the Life Guards! This is their regular duty.”
“I suppose that is acceptable, then. I would not think it very comfortable to support a wife on half-pay.”
“I would not mind following the drum if it meant being with the man that I loved in support of our country.”
Faith smiled fondly. Patience meant every word.
“And Grace, did you not enjoy yourself even a little?”
“It was a bit tedious. Most of my partners were still silly boys not long down from school.”
“Surely you exaggerate?”
She shook her head. “I do not think one of them could grow a beard and they either spouted nonsense about my blue eyes and celestial beauty, or they talked about nothing but cockfights and mills.” She made a face of disgust. “I would have given my eyeteeth for a dance with a more seasoned, elegant gentleman. Just one!”
They all laughed.
“What of you, Faith? You were the only one Lord Westwood danced with. I heard it remarked upon more than once,” Hope said.
“He only danced with me because he is our guardian.”
“Be that as it may, apparently he is so confirmed a bachelor that he avoids dancing altogether—at least with unmarried misses.”
Faith tried to keep her thoughts impassive, but it was hard to hide anything from her sisters. She almost wished she had not danced with him. The rest of the dances paled in comparison, but she knew he had meant nothing by it more than to launch her and her sisters into their Season. He had rather made a point of proclaiming his disinterest by ignoring them the rest of the night. Even though he had not danced again, she had seen him flirting with a dashing widow. That had deflated any silly notions she’d been spinning about him.
“Lord Carew is divine,” Grace said. “I think it most unfair that he danced with you twice and yet did not take a single turn with me. You can tell by the look in his eyes that you would never grow bored with him.” She wagged her eyebrows.
“Grace! Perhaps we should postpone your debut,” Faith said with mock severity.
“It is too late to close the stable door now. Although, if I am to be allowed to dance only with silly boys, perhaps I should retire from Society for now.” She thrust the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon back against the pillows.
“I told you that you should have waited,” Joy said with much self-importance. “I had a grand time.”
“Watching from the gallery?” Hope asked doubtfully.
“I watched a little bit, yes. But not very much.”
“Then what did you do?”
A mischievous smile spread across her face. Before she could answer, Lady Westwood swept into the room.
“Good morning, ladies!” She made rising movements with her arms. “Up, up, up! We mustn’t delay! There will be callers here soon! Hurry now!” And with that proclamation, she was gone again.
“My feet doth protesteth!” Grace said with vehemence.
Faith wanted to plead a headache and stay in her room all day, but she forced a smile on her face when she saw Hope’s and Patience’s excitement. They roused themselves to dress and made their way to the drawing room.
Everyone that had danced with them had sent flowers—the drawing room and the library were overflowing even into the ballroom, which was still full with flowers from the evening before.
Callers were already being entertained by Lady Westwood when the sisters arrived downstairs. Some of the matrons Faith had met the evening before, but most of the callers were young gentlemen unknown to her.
Soon, some familiar faces made the time more pleasant—Lord Carew, Lord Rotham, Major Stuart, and Mr. Cunningham—but strangely, no Lord Westwood.
An extremely garish-looking gentleman—one Faith believed what was called a tulip—arrived wearing primrose-coloured pantaloons with a blue waistcoat with yellow stripes and tasselled Hessians so highly polished as to rival the shine on a looking glass.
