The Hermit's Daughter by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1989-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

A Season of six weeks is not very long when it has to include a presentation at Court, an introduction to polite society, the setting up of a court of admirers, the singling out of one of them as the one to be attached, and the final landing of him in her net. Without ever wasting a minute, Sally didn’t see how she was to pull the thing off. The gentlemen she wished to draw to her saloon were elusive. Derwent’s friends, all callow youths, were arriving in abundance. They were amusing rattles to have dance attendance on her at parties, but there was not one in the lot she could envisage spending an evening alone with in anything but absolute boredom. The other alternative was the aging cronies of Sir Darrow Willowby and her late papa, who were always attentive. Sir Darrow was the Hermitages’ usual escort to all the ton functions.

Shortly after the ladies were anointed with respectability at Queen Charlotte’s Drawing Room, Sir Darrow arranged for the family to attend one of Prinny’s fabulous parties at Carlton House. This do required three new gowns of an elegance nearly matching the presentation gowns. “For we do not want to show the world we’ve been rusticating all these years,” Mrs. Hermitage pointed out. “Do you think the ecru crepe does anything for me, Sal? I fear it is a poor choice. It is the same faded shade as my face. I must use more rouge. We antiques are all resorting to it to lend us a touch of color.”

Now a happy matron, Melanie could put off the white of maidenhood and had concocted an ice-blue peau de soie gown that made her look even younger than her eighteen years. It rankled a little with Sally that she must still wear white, when she was three years older, but the color was not downright unbecoming. As Sir Darrow had the wits to supply a corsage of red flowers, she did not look quite as though she were masquerading as a youngster.

“I do hope Monstuart will not be there,” Mrs. Hermitage fretted. “Do you suppose it is his doing that none of the fellows the proper age are calling on you, Sal? He has a wide circle of friends, the very gentlemen who ought to be courting you.”

“I wouldn’t put it a bit past him,” Sally replied with an angry jerk at her gloves.

“Do be careful, dear. The kidskin splits if you look too hard at it. I have gone through three pairs of gloves this Season, and it is early times yet. They cost a fortune, too.”

“How is the thousand pounds you converted from Consols holding out?” Sally asked.

Her mother blinked in surprise. “Why, it is gone long ago. I have had to draw out two thousand more since then.”

“We must cut back,” Sally scolded, but in her

heart she knew it could not be done. She had no more desire than her family to appear in anything but the highest kick of fashion.

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