Lady Eve Langley, a quite good-natured woman who had not an unkind thought in her head, turned and smiled at Hetty. “So pleased, Miss Rolland.” She saw nothing amiss with Hetty’s appearance, only wondered at the cap, for only dowagers and proclaimed spinsters donned this proof of their status in society. “You must allow me to present you to my daughters, Maude and Caroline.”
Hetty hadn’t expected such kindness and was at a loss to explain it. She wondered if, contrary to her common sense, she had sorely misjudged London society.
Hetty was hard pressed to preserve a straight face as she approached one of the young ladies in question. She had seen her at Drury Lane, simpering and smiling enticingly at all the young gentlemen. Lord Harry Monteith had appeared to be much to her taste when he had chanced to gaze up at her box.
Miss Maude Langley, a rather narrow-faced, scrawny-bosomed young lady in her second season, willingly looked away from her younger sister, who was the center of attention of several gentlemen, at the sight of a young lady who was homely enough to make Miss Maude appear a celestial angel by comparison. She smiled down from her thin, long nose. She was delighted. “How famous. A new arrival in London. But surely, Miss Rolland, this cannot be your first season?” She eyed the green cap with glee. The spectacles were icing on the cake.
Hetty restrained a smile and said shyly, “Yes, indeed, it is, Miss Langley. You see, I have spent many years in the country.” If Miss Langley wished to think her a maiden beyond her years, it was fine with Hetty. Lady Corinna saw that her dear friend, Lady Eve, didn’t have the wherewithal to see that her daughter a most irritating girl was being rude to Miss Rolland. She nodded dismissal at Miss Maude and drew Hetty away to meet Miss Caroline Langley. Hetty had also seen Miss Caroline at Drury Lane, and was forced to admit upon closer inspection that this sister confirmed Lord Harry Monteith’s initial impressions. Miss Caroline was a beauty, her dark, flashing brown eyes set beneath perfectly arched dark brows. Her black hair, all the rage this season, was a cascade of thick curls, bound only by a blue velvet ribbon over her left ear. She was petite, trim of figure, her full bosom covered modestly by order from her mama, no doubt by the most exquisite Brussels lace. Miss Caroline wore a petulant expression. Hetty wanted to tell her it diminished her beauty. Her lovely eyes darted restlessly about the room. What was she looking for or who?
In truth, Miss Caroline was not only peeved, she was bored. She realized that it was highly unlikely that the man she had wanted so badly to see would present himself. The heady experience of being sought out by every young gentleman had paled over the past several weeks, and she refused to consider the thought of bestowing her beauty on any of those worshiping young puppies, as society expected her to do at the end of the season. Of course, she didn’t wish to end up like poor Maude, still sitting at the rear of the shelf at the end of her second season. But to wed any of the gentlemen so far presented to her made her want to spit, something that would make her dear mama faint. No, she wanted to attach an older man, a man with experience, a man who wouldn’t languish at her feet composing ridiculous lines of poetry that praised her slender swan’s neck. She had seen such a man, and the thought that he might be in attendance this evening had brought a delicious flush over her cheeks.
She looked up to see Lady Melberry leading over one of the sorriest excuses for a female that Caroline had ever seen. She shuddered in distaste, then planted a firm smile. After all, one shouldn’t ever appear a sour apple, like poor Maude.
“My dear Caroline, I would like you to meet Miss Henrietta Rolland, the daughter of a very dear friend of Lord Melberry’s.”
Caroline inclined her graceful neck in Miss Rolland’s direction. “Charmed,” she said, managing not to shudder at the sight, though it took great inner strength not to do so.