Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball by Heidi Ashworth & Annette Lyon & Michele Paige Holmes

Author:Heidi Ashworth & Annette Lyon & Michele Paige Holmes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-12-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Not until the carriage pulled up to Dunstead Manor did the full import of what Olivia was doing settle on her mind, and when it did, the weight seemed a hundred times heavier than the velvet cloak Emma had insisted on loaning her.

“Perhaps I should go home,” she said in almost a whisper. She didn’t want to go home—not remotely. Yet deceiving her mother and her aunt suddenly seemed wicked, though her logical mind argued that there was nothing wicked about attending a ball at her age, whether her relations were aware of it or not.

But was it wrong to attend a ball entirely because of a falsehood and a trick, and because one couldn’t obtain permission to do otherwise?

“Go home? Nonsense,” Andrew said. As the coachman opened the door and lowered the steps, he went on, “You deserve an enjoyable night out as much as anyone. Mother’s unwell, though not in any serious jeopardy, and Aunt is caring for her. You know how much they love a good story about suffering. They’re having the jolliest time of their lives.” There were his dimples again.

His words and smile did comfort Olivia in some measure.

“And,” Emma interjected, “we’ll be sure you’re home early enough that they won’t suspect a thing.”

“I’ve already made sure the household servants keep their tongues quiet,” Andrew said.

Emma patted Olivia’s arm, perhaps to bestow some confidence or encouragement. “Tonight will be grand.”

She and Andrew alighted, but Olivia stayed in her seat for a moment and stared through the carriage door at the magnificent mansion before her. Mother and Aunt and falsehoods aside, did she truly want to venture behind those walls and face who knew what types of people, with their pretentious airs and patronizing ways of speaking to her? She’d grown weary of hearing such talk spoken directly at her, as if she were no older than six or seven and needed everything, including the most basic of manners, explained to her—often by girls ten years her junior who happened to have secured a wedding ring and a husband while scarcely old enough to call themselves women, who somehow had become Olivia’s superior in all ways. The memory of such girls back home at Landerfield rankled; Olivia remembered those girls as infants in the pews at church, watched them toddling and half bald. Yet because they were married, and she was not, she was somehow inferior?

“Come, Olivia,” Andrew said, reaching into the carriage for her hand. “Remember, not a soul in there knows anything about you. Every encounter will begin free of judgment or prejudice, and I will ensure that you are introduced to only the best gentlemen in attendance.”

“Think of it, Olivia—a new beginning,” Emma said behind him, her voice growing excited. “How many people ever have such an opportunity?”

“A new beginning?” Olivia repeated, letting the words soak in.

She took Andrew’s hand and let him help her from the carriage onto the drive. She tilted her head back and wondered about Mr. Clement, the new owner, and who his guests would be—residents of neighboring towns, surely.

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