The Outrageous Debutante (8 page)

The gowns were, as Madame Therese had promised, simply constructed, with little decoration except for some silk lace to trim, a row of scallops or a neat ruche of ruffles. Perhaps a little satin ribbon or tiny pearl buttons, but nothing
outré
. But what an air. What style. And in such colours. Celestial blue, as deep as a robin’s egg. A rich, clear pink, nothing like
Maiden’s Blush
, but one which glowed like a newly unfurled rose in morning sunshine.

Thea was even talked into the palest of
eau de nil
silk,
Breath of the Sea
, she was assured—deliciously enhanced by an overskirt of spangled lace. It glittered as the light caught the spangles, gleamed as if under water where the light refracted into a million facets, turning her into a veritable mermaid. Who could resist such gowns?

Finally Madame Therese stood back, hands folded in complete satisfaction.

‘
Enchanté!
It has been a pleasure to dress you,
mademoiselle
.’

If she knew the fashion world, as she undoubtedly did, she would wager the cost of the deep blue gown, which, at this moment, was turning Thea into the breathtaking image of a stately but delicate delphinium, that there would be any number of
mamas wearing a path to her door to demand that she dress their daughters in such understated but sophisticated glory. But not all would carry off such simplicity as superbly as Mademoiselle Wooton-Devereux.

And as Sir Hector was generous to a fault where his daughter was concerned, Thea had no compunction in giving in to overwhelming temptation and purchasing a number of gowns for immediate delivery to Upper Brook Street.

There was relief on all sides. Not least Lady Beatrice, who responded to the final decisions as if she herself had achieved the unachievable. Miss Wooton-Devereux was now presentable. She raised the lorgnette, admiring a delectable cream and gold creation, most discreet, with a ruched satin border and a neckline enhanced by tiny satin pleats. And if it was made known—the quietest of whispers, in confidence, would do the trick—that the lady was set to inherit a considerable fortune from her beloved papa, Lady Drusilla might just achieve her heart’s desire. Theodora might prove to be quite irresistible.

‘I think that you are now ready to be presented, Theodora.’ Lady Beatrice inclined her head in approval, the ostrich plumes in her bonnet nodding.

‘So do I.’ Thea surveyed herself in the long mirror. Her lips curved. Her mother had been right. London had much to recommend it.

Lady Aston’s drum was everything that Lady Beatrice Faringdon anticipated it to be and more.

Dazzling. Crowded. Humming with gossip, intrigue and comment. Attended by every member of the
haut ton
who happened to be in London. Lady Aston would be able to crow with delight to the discomfiture of other hostesses who had enjoyed far less success since the beginning of the Season. It provided an excellent opportunity to bring Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux to the combined and critical attention of the Polite World and launch her into society.

‘Are you nervous?’ Judith asked. ‘You don’t appear to be so.
How lowering!’ Thea and Judith waited in a little anteroom as a flock of servants descended to relieve the party of their evening wraps. ‘I remember some of my first balls and soirées. I was horribly nervous, almost so much that I did not enjoy them. Once I spilt a whole glass of lemonade, all down the front of a new gown. It was very expensive with Brussels lace over the bodice and—’ She caught the amused glint in Thea’s eyes. Short though their acquaintance might be, Judith’s obsession with pretty clothes was an open secret. ‘Well! Anyway, Mama was furious and threatened not to let me out of the schoolroom again until I could behave with more elegance.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘I suppose I was too naïve for words, but I was only seventeen.’

Thea nodded in sympathy as she arranged her stole and unfurled her fan. ‘No. I am not nervous. But then I have an advantage over your position. I have attended any number of such events as this. I presume that I am suitably got up for this momentous occasion?’ She arched her brows in gentle mockery, held out her arms for Judith’s inspection. ‘My mama considered me to be in relatively good looks and Sir Hector huffed at the bills, but did not object.’

Judith could not help but laugh. ‘I think that Lady Drusilla had the right of it. You look quite the thing!’

Thea was in her guise of mermaid in the deliciously spangled
eau de nil
body with the delicate lace overskirt. She had competed her
toilette
with long silk gloves, a pretty beaded reticule and the ivory-and-feather fan. The spangled scarf from Madame Therese matched the overskirt. A pearl necklet and pearl drops in her ears completed the ensemble with the exact touch of sophistication. Judith was left to contemplate that in relatively good looks did not quite do justice to this apparition, but she had already come to the conclusion that the relationship between Thea and her mother was not of the common order.

‘Good. Now I can enjoy myself.’ Then the two young women turned to follow Lady Beatrice into the ballroom where their hostess was in the process of receiving a steady stream of guests, the majority of whom she had no idea she had invited.

The Faringdon party found itself absorbed happily into the throng and it was soon abundantly clear that Theodora was in her element in such surroundings. It was also abundantly clear that she would not lack for partners. She was introduced to so many gentlemen, all eager to salute the fingers of the willowy golden-haired beauty who would one day inherit a fortune, that she all but lost count. She chatted, sipped champagne and promised herself for any number of dances, with grace and aplomb and all the assurance of having acted as her mama’s deputy in formal and diplomatic circles.

Lady Beatrice subjected her to more than one sharp glance, but soon was forced to accept that there was no cause here for anxiety that the girl might not know how to conduct herself. Her upbringing might be unusual, she might be of a forthright disposition, but her social skills were excellent and she would do nothing to bring a blush of mortification to her hostess’s face. True, there might have been some concern over whether she should grace the ballroom in the waltz or not. But Lady Drusilla approved. If Theodora could waltz in Paris, she could waltz in London. So waltz she should, and most competently, thus Beatrice shrugged off all responsibility. After which decision, there was nothing to spoil the night.

For her part, Thea took her place in one country dance after another, never flagging. Sufficiently experienced, she did not lack for conversation, but could mind her feet and her tongue at the same time as she twirled and stepped with precision and elegance. Nor was she averse to a little light-hearted flirtation. She could use her fan most adeptly to draw attention to her glorious eyes, whose sparkle rivalled the crystal drops above her pretty head. Laughter and a bright spirit flowed from her. Who would not desire to dance with such an enchanting young lady? No fear that she would ever be a wallflower, destined to sit and watch as others trod the stately or lively measures. And if no unwed earl was present so far to ask for Miss Wooton-Devereux’s hand in the next waltz, not even the Earl of Moreton, still Lady Drusilla could not be disappointed with the proceedings.

As for those who observed and assessed and might have stared in cold and stuffy disapproval, they came to the conclusion that Miss Wooton-Devereux was indeed something out of the way, but not unbecomingly so. And her mama. Well, perhaps Lady Drusilla was a little eccentric with the draped turban on her greying curls, all hung about with jewels and feathers, rather in the manner of an eastern potentate. And the quantity of gold chains on her bosom. Rather strange but … interesting. And Sir Hector—of course—so distinguished and responsible. If the Princess Esterhazy herself greeted Lady Drusilla with warm condescension and a light kiss on the cheek, then there was no matter for concern. And if the girl had been brought up in the courts of Europe, then that would account for any oddity in her manner. But her breeding and her appearance, it was decided, were beyond question. Of course, the prospect of money would win over even those who might still look askance at a girl who was one and twenty before making her formal curtsy.

At some point towards the hour when a light supper would be served, Thea returned from a sprightly reel with Simon, Earl of Painscastle, an enthusiastic if inexact exponent of the art of dancing, somewhat heavy on his own feet and those of his partner, to find Lady Beatrice, Sir Hector and Lady Drusilla in deep conversation with a newcomer to their party. He stood with his back to her. And laughed at something that had been said as they approached.

‘Ah!’ Simon pressed Thea’s hand as it rested on his sleeve. ‘Now here is a man I am pleased to see. And so will you be, I wager. Come—I will introduce you.’

He struck the gentleman on the shoulder, a light punch to draw his attention.

‘Better late than never, Nick. We had quite given up on you. Your dancing skills are needed here by the ladies—and I can retire for a hand or two of whist.’

The gentleman turned, his face still alight from the previous laughter.

‘Simon. Good to see you. Judith says that you are well.’

‘Of course. Burford Hall keeping you busy?’

‘A little. I have been told that I must visit you and admire your son.’

‘Without doubt. Judith invites everyone to admire him!’ But there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. ‘You should try it yourself, my boy!’

‘Not you as well!’ Nicholas smiled, a quick and devastating grin. ‘I am assaulted from all sides.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Simon risked a glance towards Lady Beatrice. ‘I can imagine.’

‘Never mind that. I hear you have a stallion for sale!’

‘For sale? Not at all. Unless you can tempt me with gold!’

‘I might, if he is superior to my own animals. Which I doubt!’

At which descent into purely masculine topics of conversation, which threatened to occupy them for the rest of the evening, Lady Beatrice grasped her son-in-law’s arm with one hand and tapped her nephew’s with her fan to remind them of their surroundings.

‘Don’t start talking horseflesh, for the Lord’s sake.’ But her tone was indulgent enough. ‘Nicholas. I must introduce you …’

During the whole of this interchange, Thea had been standing a little to the side, out of direct line of sight. Out of neither cowardice nor shyness, but standing rooted to the spot, her heart beating rapidly, her mouth dry, for here was the gentleman of the Park. And, she realised in that one moment, the length of a heartbeat, that any memory she had of him bore no comparison with the reality that now stood before her. He took her breath away. Splendidly handsome, as she had realized, but now she had the opportunity to study him in the dark severity and elegance of formal evening clothes, at the same time horribly aware that he could reveal her unmaidenly behaviour to all. She had hoped never to see him again, but there was no escaping this introduction.

‘Theodora, my dear.’ Lady Beatrice drew her forward. ‘This is my nephew, Lord Nicholas Faringdon. Nicholas, allow me to introduce Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux, Sir Hector and Lady Drusilla’s daughter. This is her first Season in London.’

Nicholas turned to the lady presented to him—and found himself looking into the eyes—those deep blue eyes fringed with the darkest of lashes—that had last flashed with anger and fear as his hand closed around her wrist. But here any similarity ended. Here was wealth, understated taste, elegance. Yet he felt the strange affinity again, rippling over his skin as if brushed by a chill draught of air.

Good manners prevailed, of course. Theodora curtsied in her best court manner, eyes demurely downcast, a smile pinned to her lips, her pretty hand extended to the gentleman. Just as she ought. Nicholas took the offered hand in his own and bowed, a formal inclination of the head, just touching his lips to her fingers. The epitome of the well-bred gentleman of fashion. They straightened, disengaged, the tension between them invisible to all, but palpable none the less.

Thea waited, swallowing against her panic. Was this the moment when he would acknowledge that he had met her before? Would he announce to one and all that she had been galloping in Hyde Park—and wearing boots and breeches? She could not prevent her eyes dropping to his right hand where the whip mark was clearly visible, still a vivid red scar. When he did not and the moment passed, relief surged through her blood, but she did not enjoy the sensation. Her previous behaviour had effectively thrown her into his hands, at his mercy. Resentment quickly overpowered the relief.

Meanwhile Nicholas fought against an equally strong torrent of anger. So this was his aunt’s plan, in spite of his warning. It had all the hallmark of Beatrice Faringdon about it: devious, persistent, interfering. Introduce him to a débutante, wait for the knot to be tied and, in the event of any harm befalling Hal and the young boy in America, the Faringdon succession would be secured to her satisfaction. Furthermore, a débutante whose behaviour had been indecorous in the extreme. Well, he would not. He would not give Lady Beatrice the satisfaction of falling in with her plans. He might keep his face politely bland, his eyes flat, but inside he fumed.

Never had a meeting between lady and gentleman in a ballroom been so fraught with overtones and supposition.

‘Why don’t you invite Thea to dance, my dear Nicholas?’ Beatrice remained oblivious to the passions seething around her.

‘Of course, Aunt. It would be my pleasure.’ His lips curved into a semblance of a smile, but there was no warmth in it. He fixed his gaze on Theodora. ‘Although I presume that you do not waltz, madam,’ he remarked as the musicians struck up.

‘I do indeed, my lord.’ Equally cool.

‘Ah.’ His raised brows were not quite a criticism.

‘I have waltzed in Paris and Vienna, my lord. My mama sees no objection and I have every reason to believe that I have the blessing of the Princess Esterhazy. So I will willingly accept your invitation.’