Amy Lake Read Online Free Page B

she finds all quite amusing.  On this occasion, however, Cassie had declared a sudden desire for music, was adamant that I attend as well, and insisted on lending me another gown, as the countess’ latest pronouncement was that I should always wear pink.
    “Perhaps,” said Cassandra, “she cannot bear the thought of you marrying and leaving home.”
    “One would not guess it otherwise.”
    “True.  But I cannot think of another explanation for pink.” 
    Thus I was dressed in a pale blue Indian muslin with cap sleeves and an embroidered hem, the bodice cut perhaps a half-inch lower than I was accustomed to wear.
    My mother had shrugged when she saw me out.  “Edwina’s affairs are rather small, are they not?  ’Twill be a waste for you .”
    We entered Lady Bosville’s salon early enough to find two comfortable seats near the back of the room.  People poured each other glasses of punch—’twas done of late, even in the finest households—and milled about.  We greeted Miss Hingham, who bounced and smiled on the arm of her recent admirer, a pleasant-looking young man with prominent ears and a grin.  He was, as we learned with the introductions, Lord Thomas Randolph, the youngest son of the Earl of Durbin.
    “La, I never expected to see you this evening!” said Amelia.
    “Reggie could not live another day without music,” said Cassie.
    I rolled my eyes.
    “Did you hear?” said Miss Hingham.  “Lady Helen says that Arabella Pruett is engaged to Lord Vale!”
    This was news indeed.  Lord Vale was fifty years if he was a day, and everyone knew he had sworn never to marry.
    “Is it for love or for money, do you suppose?” asked Cassie.
    “Love, of course,” said the earl’s son, gamely.  “You young ladies are such scoffers!”
    ’Twas meant in fun, but I wondered if ’twas true—that we are scoffers, I mean.  The life of a female of the ton was constrained by the two trajectories open to us; marriage or spinsterhood.  The second was thought to be a poor choice by most.  Was cynicism forced upon us?
    Lord Thomas and Miss Hingham left to find their own seats.
    “I have a jest,” said Miss Barre.
    “Gods.”  Cassandra’s taste ran to punning.
    “What difference is there between a soprano and Lord Farweather’s dog?”
    Lord Farweather’s dog was infamous in London society; an enormous animal of uncertain parentage, who howled loudly and piteously at any visitor to the door.
    “I could not say,” I told her.
    “Jewelry.”
    I was sipping on a claret cup; I nearly choked.  Cassie laughed behind her hand.
    “Look! she said after a moment.  “There’s the man himself.”
    She meant, as I discovered, the newly affianced Lord Vale.  He was just entering the salon, with Miss Pruett attached to his arm.  I looked at his face carefully.
    “He is in love!” I exclaimed.  I had danced with his lordship on several occasions, and observed him dancing on many others; never had I seen him with this expression.  Besotted, I thought.
    “It certainly seems so.”
    “And at fifty years of age!”  We were both amazed.
    Cassie and I continued to chat and watch the crowd and then, a few minutes before the programme was to begin, someone sat down immediately to my left.  I turned to say my how-do’s and—
    “Lord Davies!”
    ’Twas he.  The distance between Lady Bosville’s chairs suddenly seemed insufficient, and for a moment I could not draw breath.  His shoulders nearly touched mine.
    “Lady Regina.”
    My heart raced, but I found myself saying, with apparent calm, “I believe you know my friend, Miss Cassandra Barre?”
    “I do.”
    One does not pop up to curtsey in these circumstances, the gentleman having already sat down, although I suppose one would for the prince; at any rate Cassie nodded and smiled. 
    “Hello, Lord Davies.  Shall we enjoy this first singer, do you think?  She is supposed to be quite fine.”
    “I will own that I prefer the quartet.”
    I felt a