The Season (5 page)

Like it or not, this night was one she would not soon forget.

***

The Duchess of Worthington placed an elegantly gloved hand on her daughter's knee and spoke quietly, "We have arrived."

In the dim light of the large carriage that muffled the sounds of the street beyond, Alex took hold of her mother's hand. She turned glittering green eyes on the older woman and offered an uncertain smile. "And so it begins."

"Indeed. You
will
be wonderful."

And, as if on cue, the door opened to reveal a livery-clad footman, and the duke climbed down from his seat across from them in the imposing black carriage emblazoned with the Worthington crest. Once on solid ground, he turned back to reach up and hand the duchess down from the transport; she gave Alex's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before accepting her husband's assistance.

Then, it was Alex's turn. She scooted across the velvet-draped seat, focused on
her father's smiling, pride-fill
ed eyes, and took his hand. His grip was firm and steady as he helped her down to the street, and Alex was encouraged by it
—
no matter how she felt about this day, making her parents proud couldn't be such an awful thing, could it? When her feet touched the ground, she found herself assaulted by
all
the sights and sounds of the legendary Almack's.

The first thing that Alex registered was the noise. There was a cacophonous din of chatter, louder than anything she'd ever heard out of doors, which enveloped her immediately. She couldn't make out much of the conversation for the sheer amount of it
—
punctuated with bursts of laughter and shrieks of recognition from ladies and gentlemen of the
ton
who were
all
enjoying this ... the first major event of the 1815 season.

The building itself was unimpressive
—
a simple stone structure that, at most times, provided little indication of being one of the most important locations in the life of London's high society. Alex had passed this place dozens of times before and had never given it a second thought. It appeared, however, that on Wednesday nights during the season,
all
that changed.

Looking back at the coach, Alex felt an intense desire to return to it, to clamber inside and swing the door shut behind her and simply wait there until her parents finished making their rounds. Instead, she stood
tall
, revealing none of her trepidation, and looked down the length of King Street, jammed with carriages and coaches
all
with a common goal
—
to deposit the most
well
-respected members of the
ton
on the steps of the Assembly Rooms, leaving them to an evening of seeing and being seen. Light from the scores of carriages flooded the sidewalks and steps to the building, lending a dazzling brightness to the moment, as if even the sun couldn't stay away from the beautiful people who
filled
the street.

Alex drew a shaky breath, feeling a knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. She hadn't
full
y realized until this moment how much she dreaded this, her first official night in society. That afternoon, she had been presented at Buckingham House to the Prince Regent, a charming older man with a reputed eye for the most beautiful women and the best parties in London. And, while the ceremony had been
filled
with
all
the pomp and circumstance befitting a visit to the Royal Court, it hadn't made Alex nearly as uncertain as she felt right
now, surrounded by throngs of London's finest,
all
pushing madly toward the entrance to the assembly. After
all
, everyone knew it was
really
the Lady Patronesses of Almack's whose opinions were most valued in matters relating to society.

With a sigh, she turned back and caught her father's quick smile as he leaned down and proffered his arm. "Terrifying, isn't it?"

"Quite." She took the offered arm and matched his grin with one of her own. "How do you ever survive it?"

With a brief, almost imperceptible nod toward her mother, who had turned from her position just steps ahead to wait for them, he answered, "'Tis a duke's duty to make his duchess happy, moppet."

Alex's smile broadened at his answer. Her mother spoke quietly as they reached her, her voice traveling only far enough to be heard by the two of them.

"To your right, Alexandra, is Lady Jersey." Alex turned her head to get a look at the petite, rather unattractive woman who was nicknamed The Queen of London for her position as the most discerning of Almack's patronesses, before her mother added in exasperation, "Do attempt to be discreet, Alexandra. Ladies do not stare."

Alex snapped her head back and offered a sheepish apology to her mother, then lowering her voice to a whisper and speaking close to the duchess's ear,
"That
woman turned away the Duke of
Wellington
?" referencing the legendary piece of gossip that would certainly affo
rd Lady Sarah Jersey a place in
the annals of London's aristocratic history. The Duke of
Wellington
—
a war hero of the first water and a
duke
no less
—
had been set down by this wisp of a woman? Denied entry to Almack's? A place made famous by satin flounces and weak lemonade? What kind of rules was this society perpetuating?

"Indeed. He arrived wearing trousers instead of knee breeches."

Alex couldn't help
rolling
her eyes at the ridiculousness of such a perceived infraction. Her father noticed and spoke drily, "Never fear, moppet. My understanding is that Lady Jersey's lesson has served him
well
in battle. He wouldn't dream of meeting Napoleon in anything less than the most current of fashions."

"And thank goodness for that," Alex responded, her feigned seriousness drawing a bark of laughter from her father.

"I do wish you wouldn't encourage her," the duchess said to him, covering her obvious amusement with an exasperated sigh before turning back to her daughter. "Are you ready for your debut, Alexandra?"

"Do I have the option of saying no?" she asked, the hint of sarcasm in her voice drawing a
quelling
look from her mother.

"Not in the least. I've been waiting for this moment for far too long. You are going to ..."

"Yes, yes. Set the
ton
on its ear." Alex interrupted, taking a deep breath and shoring up her confidence. It was time, whether she liked it or not.
«Well,
then. I rather think we should get started, don't you?"

***

"What a crush!"

Alex took hold of
Ella
's hand and
pulled
her friend into an alcove off the main
ball
room of Almack's, away from the mass of London's nobility. "And people do this every week?" Making sure they were tucked away behind a significantly sized potted fern, Alex leaned against a marble column. "I'm never coming here again if I can help it."

Ella
chuckled and leaned close to her friend with an impish gleam in her eye.
"And now I am at Almack's, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in
a better place!"

Laughing at her friend's rendition of a line from her favorite Shakespearean play, Alex then completed it.
"But travelers must be content!
Oh ... what I wouldn't give to be in a forest far away from titles of any kind!" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If I am cornered by Lord Waring one more time, I
shall
have to feign sickness. I may counterfeit a swoon to avoid having to speak to him again!"

"I
shall
keep my
smelling
salts at the ready."
Ella
peeked through the plant to be certain no one was listening to them. "I noticed him mincing after you.

Your mother must have been happy to see it. He is, after
all
, a marquess."

"Indeed. The Marquess of Excruciating
dullness
. Lord 'Waring' is right. He's wearing on my patience."

The girls laughed a touch too loudly, checked themselves, and grinned.
Ella
spoke. "You
shall
see us both into a grip of trouble if you keep on like that, Alex. What
will
our mothers say if we are discovered laughing too loudly! And mere hours after being presented to the Prince Regent!"

"I thought I heard you two laughing!" Vivi poked her head around the plant. "I was wondering where you were hiding." Taking note of the nook, she tilted her head in approval. She tucked herself into the
small
space and gave a mock appraisal. "Very nice. Quite spacious!"

"There is
still
more room than out there," Alex said with an unladylike cock of her head. "Is it getting any better?"

"Not remotely. But it's just eleven, which means no one else can enter
—
so that's something." Vivi peered through the leaves of the palm, scanning the room. "Why anyone would look forward to an evening at Almack's is beyond me. I've had my toes stepped on twice, the Dowager Duchess of Lockwood poked me with her walking stick
—
on purpose
—
and I narrowly avoided a lemonade mishap at the hands of Lord Waring." She sighed and looked back at her friends. "You don't appear to have been doing much better!"

Resuming her overview of the
ball
room, Vivi took note of a
tall
, handsome young man and lifted an eyebrow at Alex. "However, I did happen to see you laughing with Lord Stanhope during a quadril e. Is there something you would like to
tell
your dearest friends?"

Alex shook her head. "I'm afraid nothing of note. I've known Freddie for years. He and
will
were at school together. He was just being kind and making certa
in that I had my dance card fill
ed." She peered over her friend's shoulder through the plant to see the object of their conversation offer one of the grande dames of the
ton
a glass of lemonade, with a bold grin. "He is charming, though." She paused. "And fun."

"And quite attractive,"
Ella
chimed in.

Alex turned to her friends. "And an inveterate rake."

Vivi nodded. "Truer words were never spoken." The young Earl of Stanhope's reputation preceded him. "But if anyone's safe with Stanhope, it's you, Alex. Your brothers would have his head if he overstepped his bounds."

"Speaking of..."
Ella
was peering through the fern, "Your brothers have arrived.
all
of them." Laughter edged into her voice. "And they're being swarmed."

"Reall
y?" Alex turned and joined
Ella
at her lookout post. And there they were,
all
three of her brothers surrounded by a gaggle of cloying mothers and decorated daughters,
all
clamoring for an introduction.

Nick, ever the gentleman, was doing his best to appear interested. Kit was looking terrified, eyes darting this way and that, obviously desperate to escape. It was
will
, however, who caused a giggle to escape Alex. As the future duke, he was surrounded on
all
sides by eager females. But the eldest Stafford wasn't the young star of the War Office for nothing. Alex
could see him working out a strategy for retreat even as he was
enchantée-
ing his way through the crowd. Within seconds, he had backed up to another gentleman, deftly shifted the attention from himself to his unsuspecting mark, and moved away toward their mother, who was waving him over.

"Remarkable," Alex whispered. It was a tactical disengagement that would have made
Wellington
proud. Taking a moment to admire her brother's
skill
at dealing with the
ton,
Alex made a mental note to ask him for a tutorial when next she saw him. Redirecting her gaze to the mass of femininity he had escaped, Alex waited for
will
's replacement to turn his face toward her. She wondered who could so easily capture the attentions original
l
y directed at an heir to a dukedom
—
or was
will
just that
skilled
with such evasive maneuvers? Whoever it was stood at the same height as Nick and Kit, towering above the women around him. The way he was positioned made him impossible to recognize, but Alex couldn't help but notice his broad shoulders and blond hair
falling
attractively over the
collar
of his waistcoat.

Alex checked herself.
Since when did hair fall attractively?
Irritated with herself for noting something so inane, she turned away from her spying to resume her conversation with
Ella
and Vivi, who were consulting their dance cards.

"Are you ready to reenter the fray?" She asked a touch too quickly
—
hoping that her friends wouldn't notice.

The girls agreed it was time to come out of hiding, for fear someone might find their spot and ruin it for future nights. As casual
l
y as possible, Vivi exited the alcove,
followed
by
Ella
, with Alex bringing up the rear. The madness began immediately.

"Lady Vivian! I thought perhaps you had left! I was nigh perishing at the thought." Vivi was virtual
l
y accosted by the eldest, and one would hope most dramatic, son of Viscount Sudberry.

Ella
found herself instantly distracted by Lord Sumner. "My dear Lady Eleanor, I have been searching for you everywhere. Never say you haven't a free dance on your card?"

"Lady Alexandra! I believe this is my dance!" Alex turned toward the nasal voice and, hiding her grimace, pasted a bright smile on her face. "Why, Lord Waring, I believe you are right." Turning back to her friends, she mouthed,
Rescue me!
Vivi leaned in close and whispered, "Meet us on the other s
ide of the room after the cotill
ion." With no time to respond, Alex was escorted to the dance floor.

For the next few minutes, she gave special thanks to her maker that country dances were the rage in London this year
—
the
cotillion
involved multiple sets of paired partners, so she was able to, for the most part, avoid tedious conversation with Lord Waring. When, at the end of the dance, he suggested that they take a turn about the
ball
room, she
swallowed
a quick
NO!
and instead replied, "That sounds lovely. However, I find that I am quite parched.

Would you mind terribly escorting me to the refreshment rooms?"

Instead, eager to please, Waring offered to take her
directly to
Ella
and Vivi, who had somehow escaped their suitors and were deep in conversation on the sidelines of the
ball
room. From there, he insisted, he would fetch her lemonade
—
and anything else she required
—
for fear she would find herself too parched from the walk
all
the way to the refreshments. Recognizing a boon when she saw one, Alex
swallowed
her snide response to his theory that an additional ten feet of walking would put her out of commission for the evening. Graciously accepting Lord Waring's offer, Alex refocused her attention on her friends and the man with whom they were conversing.

It was the same man she had noticed through the potted fern. He
still
had his back to her, but she was getting to know that side of him quite
well
. His shoulders were broader
still
than they had seemed when she was spying on him. They were certainly a defining characteristic, and she noted with appreciation the way his tailor had fitted his black jacket to them like a second skin. Taking in the cut of the garment drew her attention back to his hair, which she realized was a more golden shade of blond than she had first thought.

She
mentally
shook herself, growing irritated with her own idiocy. She'd spent most of her life around men and, from the looks of him, this one was no different from her brothers in age or station. Why was she being so
silly
? Who was he, anyway? How did he know Vivi and
Ella
?

As Alex and Waring drew closer, Vivi saw them and turned a
brilliant
smile in their direction. Taking his cue from Vivi's distraction, the man turned and Alex skipped a step in surprise. She lost her grip on Waring's sleeve and, in an attempt to save herself from a devastatingly embarrassing moment of clumsiness, instead caught herself on the arm of the golden-haired, broad-shouldered object of her interest.

Looking up through her lashes, she met his gaze
—
eyes she knew
as well as
her own
—
which just happened to be laughing down at her.

"Blackmoor." The name came out on a shocked
whoosh
of breath.
Blackmoor? Truly?
Blackmoor was the man she'd been noticing? Surely that couldn't be right. Could it? Looking up into his grey eyes, Alex could feel heat flooding her face. She pressed a cool, gloved hand to her face,
willing
the blush away. She
never
blushed.
What had gotten into her?
She pasted a smile on her face and looked at the others in the group. Vivi was attempting to manage a serene smile despite her clear desire to laugh, and
Ella
was looking at Alex with an odd expression, as though she were some creature to be studied in a laboratory.

Attempting to regain her composure, she looked up at Blackmoor and spoke, her voice sounding foreign even to her. "Lord Blackmoor. Good evening."

"Lady Alexandra, as always, the evening is made more entertaining by your arrival." He made certain that she was upright and stable before removing his arm. "Waring." He nodded in greeting to his old acquaintance.

"Good evening, Blackmoor, Lady Vivian, Lady Eleanor.
you’ll
have to excuse me. If Lady Alexandra is
well
enough for me to leave, I have promised to fetch her some lemonade. May I bring some for you as
well
?"

Vivi responded, "In fact, Lord Waring, Lady Eleanor and I were about to take a turn about the room. We
shall
join you as far as the refreshment rooms, that is, if you can suffer our company."

Ever impressed with her friend's grace and tact, Alex watched, a trifle dumbfounded, as Vivi wove her tale for Lord Waring
—
ensuring that he could not refuse to walk with her and
Ella
without appearing the most boorish type of man. Of course, presented with Vivi in
all
her gentle graciousness, Alex would wager that Waring would forget
her
within moments of departing with his new charges. Vivi's
skill
at reshaping men's desires was uncanny, but Alex was too grateful for her friend's intervention with Waring to question it more than in passing. Instead, she simply offered a silent prayer of thanks for Lady Vivian
Markwell and
her unwavering talent.