Page 7 of Loving Mister Stratford
He tilted his head and she had the sense that he was examining her very, very carefully. Those unique eyes of his stared straight into her soul, sending a chill traipsing up and down her spine. It was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.
Before they could speak further, there was a shout of music to announce the arrival of the Prince Regent. As one, the massive crowd turned toward the dais and began to ripple in a wave of bows and curtseys. Naturally, Odette and Simon followed suit. Just as they’d both been trained to do.
Odette had only seen the Prince Regent in person once before. Her mother had insisted upon presenting her at Court when she came of age. There, amongst the titled, lovely young ladies of thetoncrammed together and waiting for their turn to be announced and unleashed upon Society, she’d felt like an ugly duckling, indeed. Her mother had called in a great favor to find her a sponsor to present her. It had all seemed so vitally important to her that Odette couldn’t say no, no matter her anxieties.
Odette had stood in line along with the other swans in the sea of white—pearls, feathers, lace, and satin clouds, all of them. She’d felt like an impostor and swore every one of those girls knew her for what she was.
The Regent, with his fair, flushed features and tall, paunchy build had been undeniably bored and disinterested, slouching low in his throne and waving each girl by with hardly a glance spared. When he’d heard her name accompanied by that of her unlikely sponsor, the Countess of Aethelton, his pale eyes had flitted over to her, taken her in from head to toe, and—she couldn’t help but feel—found her coming up short.
That night, even across the crowded room of the party, Odette found him imposing and intimidating.
“I seem to have missed the mark on tonight’s dress code,” Mr. Stratford whispered for only her hearing.“Mother will be so disappointed in me.”
Odette struggled to stifle a giggle when she realized he was referencing the Regent’s elaborately tied cravat, his coat bedecked in superfluous medals and garish, clashing colors of his coat and waistcoat. It was all cut in the highest of fashions, trimmed in glittering gems and gold thread, but meant to flatter a figure much trimmer than the one Prinny was currently sporting.
“Odette!” She sobered and straightened instantly at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her blonde head appeared around the column and Odette didn’t miss the keen glimmer in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter speaking to a well-dressed man.“My dear, who is your friend?” she asked, extending her gloved hand with its glittering ring. This one wasn’t made of paste, but a large yellow sapphire gifted to her some three years prior by a man whose name Odette couldn’t recall.
“Mr. Simon Stratford,” Odette offered, experiencing an odd pang in her chest as he bent over her mother’s hand. It had felt so freeing to have this one interaction, this one acquaintance, away from her mother’s ministrations and prying eyes, and here it had come to a swift and decisive end.“Mr. Stratford, Mademoiselle Stella Auclair. My mother.” Though the last earned her a glare, Odette didn’t mind. She couldn’t have explained why, but it was very important to her that there were no false pretenses where Mr. Stratford was involved. It simply felt wrong—especially when he seemed to be nothing but full of candor.
Her mother’s assessing gaze swept over Mr. Stratford’s lean, tall form; she’d always prided herself on knowing everyone worth knowing in Town (especially everyone with a title or fortune) and it was clear she’d also recognized him as the second son of the Earl of Aldborough. She’d stood over her shoulder while Odette had been forced to memorize the more important families listed in Debrette’s.
Her mother easily fell into her role of a charming actress, the one that earned her entrée into some of the higher strata of society despite her Frenchness and lowly origins, the tone that helped gain significant donations from the patrons of The Mask and Lyre, the sultry voice that kept her in fine clothes and gems.
“How kind of you to locate my wayward daughter for me, Mr. Stratford. She looked at him from beneath her long, dark lashes, her eyes rimmed with a seductive sweep of kohl to accentuate their striking paleness.
“She seems to have discovered my hiding place rather than the other way around.”
Her mother loosed a low laugh and continued to hold onto Mister Stratford’s hand as if to impress upon him how charming she found his comment. To her amusement, Odette realized she already knew him well enough to recognize there was no intentional humor in his comment. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, trying not to smile when he looked questioningly at her. He seemed to struggle for something else to say.
“I…saw your performance the other night. I found it quite well done.” He looked more than slightly taken aback when her mother caressed his arm as she thanked him for his compliment.
“You’re too kind, sir! I’m honored to have such an admirer.”
Again, he cast a searching glance at Odette, a blatantly baffled expression painted upon his attractive face. She offered him a sympathetic smile. She, of all people, recognized how her mother could be overly enthusiastic and Odette knew first-hand that it could be overwhelming to some personalities. Apparently, poor Mr. Stratford fell into that category.
“I’m terribly sorry, but you will have to excuse us.” Only Odette could hear that there wasn’t the barest hint of honest contrition in her mother’s voice.“I’ve some acquaintances to greet and Odette should attend; wouldn’t want anyone to claim I was remiss in my duties as a chaperone,” she added flippantly and slipped her arm through Odette’s, barely giving her time to tuck Mr. Stratford’s handkerchief back into his hand and cast him a little wave of gratitude.
Once they were a safe distance away and somewhat concealed by another clutch of partygoers, her mother patted her hand.
“You did well catching the eye of an earl’s second son, but I believe we can do better, Odette—perhaps a first-born son with a much lesser title.” To Odette’s mortification, she could hear the gears and wheels of her mother’s mind running furiously.“Then again…” she trailed off as she scanned the room;“Viscount Sommerfeld and his wife still haven’t produced an heir after a few years of marriage…nor did the viscountess produce issue in her first marriage, and that one had lasted quite some time until the old baron’s passing. Perhaps there remains a chance that Mr. Stratford or his offspring could inherit the Aldborough Earldom in the future…if the viscount doesn’t tire of his barren wife and have the marriage dissolved upon the basis of impotency before then. Despite the unfortunate limp, he still appears remarkably robust; still young and virile.” Her mother gestured with a tilt of one well-shaped brow to a tall, dashing blond man leaning lightly on a cane; he stood beside a smiling, beautiful, fire-haired woman—clearly the subjects of her mother’s salacious one-sided conversation.“Or,” her mother lowered her voice conspiratorially,“maybe the fault lies with him and no amount of wives will cure what ails him—perhaps his injury involves more than just his leg. All the better for the younger son, no?” She snapped open the hand-painted fan hanging from her wrist and fluttered the implement before her face in the fashion of a hummingbird’s wing, giving Odette only glimpses of the cruel tilt of her painted lips.
Odette nearly swallowed her tongue, shocked into silence by her mother’s curt discussion of such vile gossip. She was, as yet, unused to this cutthroat world of theton, but even this felt as if it bordered on cruelty. Lately, her mother had been a great deal freer in divulging such knowledge as a means of better preparing Odette for the Marriage Mart now that she viewed her daughter as a woman. After all, how could she ever hope to snag the right husband if she didn’t know the ins and outs of every one of her options…and opponents?
Odette chanced a glance over her shoulder back at Mr. Stratford and she was surprised (and more than a little thrilled) to find him watching her with his mesmerizing, intelligent eyes. Of course, her mother hadn’t missed the tiny gesture.
“Perhaps,” she mused;“you should encourage the attentions of Mr. Stratford. I’ve heard he’s slightly odd, but he seemed stable enough to me. Even if it never comes of anything, there is always the chance that he could introduce you into the right circles. Theentréehe and his family can provide could prove invaluable.”
Odette’s eyes turned down to her punch-stained gloves and she stopped listening to her mother’s plotting. It turned her stomach to think of turning whatever warm feelings she experienced with Mr. Stratford into something grasping and sordid. They’d only had two interactions, but she’d left each one feeling…something. Something warm and comforting. Something she knew would make her smile long after the candle was doused and she was alone in the dark replaying the day’s events.
She pasted on a pleasant expression, hoping it didn’t seem too contrived and that all those years of watching her mother rehearse would pay off.
Later in the evening, George and Meredith located Simon in a corner of the ballroom. He’d been occupied counting the hours until he would be able to leave, but their interruption was not unwelcome. The dancing had begun and he was dodging his mother’s eyes so she wouldn’t try to force him into asking some poor chit to dance. With any luck, this conversation would help him kill some time and avoid the dance floor.
Simon smiled in greeting to his sister-in-law and pleasantries were exchanged.
“George told me you’d been to the theater recently. I’ve been trying to coerce him into taking me to the new production at The Mask and Lyre. How did you find it?” Meredith asked. Given his conversation with George, Simon might have expected a less polished version of her, though he’d always known her to present a stiff upper lip no matter the circumstances. As collected as she appeared, Simon noted the steady arm his brother kept at Meredith’s back, providing her unwavering support both literal and unspoken. For all his disinterest in the affairs of others, Simon was capable of caring deeply for certain individuals; and he certainly hoped George was able to be whatever Meredith needed. She’d been that for George ten times over by now.
That evening, Meredith wore a high-waisted gown in hunter green, the pleated skirts revealing alternating darts of a paler shade of green to match the gossamer cap sleeves on her pale shoulders. Pearls and emeralds snaked around her neck and were woven throughout her flame-colored curls. His brother had chosen a singular beauty for a bride, but Simon found her intelligence to be far more fascinating and endearing than something so fleeting as appearances. Uncommonly perceptive, she’d always been deferential to and respectful of Simon’s mannerisms…but this also gifted her with a tenacity to uncover anything to which she put her mind. It was safer for all parties involved if she wasn’t privy to all but the barest of facts. Woe to all of them if she and their sister, Lily, were ever working in tandem; a right pair of Bow Street Runners, they were.
