Chapter 16

"And it has to be as the countess requested. You cannot argue."

Mama's voice rang in Bernadette's ears even as she hurried out of the drawing room, walking as briskly as if a nest of hornets pursued her. It was afternoon, the sunshine slanting through the windows, the big oak tree casting shadow over the pianoforte in the corner.

"But, Mama...you said yourself that the Ton will laugh at me. You told me that years ago." She felt her throat tighten and swallowed the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

"You're Lady Lockwood's invited guest and the Ton need to see you." Mama's answer was swift.

"Why?" she demanded, tears poised to fall.

"Because the countess says that will put an end to all this speculation in the papers."

Bernadette swallowed again, shame and hurt filling her. She hated being the center of attention, having people whisper about her. Being obscure was one thing, but being in society's critical eye was entirely another.

She hurried to her chamber and shut the door, sitting down heavily on the embroidered chair opposite the bed. In a few hours, she'd be meeting Nicholas' mama. Was that not frightening enough for Mama, without her having to add Lady Lockwood's pressures about the ball?

She took a long, slow breath, trying to steady herself.

I am going to be quite calm, and do as I see fit, she told herself firmly. So far, doing as she saw fit had been absolutely right. But she couldn't help that a glimmer of doubt, dark as the shadow below the window, had crept into her mind.

She wasn't a society lady. She wasn't able to attend a ball in front of high society folk, seemingly pleased. But didn't she understand how terrible that would be, to be scrutinized by the whole of high society? It only gave them more chances to be cruel to her. And it didn't seem like they needed an excuse.

Bernadette took another deep breath. Sitting in her chamber thinking about the dinner was not making it any easier. She stood and went upstairs to the empty drawing room. She went to the pianoforte, inspired to play a sonata. She was still playing when the butler arrived.

"Miss Penning is here, miss."

"Oh!" Bernadette smiled. Viola had intended to visit at teatime. It was a little early, which was even better, since then they didn't need to share the drawing room and could talk freely. "Thank you, Mr. Hadley. Please bring tea for us?"

Mr. Hadley bowed and smiled. He seemed unusually happy and Bernadette wondered if the staff were happy for her, too. She recalled Judy's sweet and obvious attempts to ignore them when she talked to Lord Blackburne.

Hearing footsteps in the doorway distracted her. Viola, wearing a lavender blue gown with her long hair drawn back in a bun, grinned and ran to her.

"Viola!" Bernadette exclaimed.

Viola threw her arms around her affectionately.

"Bernadette! So good to see you. It feels like years."

Bernadette smiled at the slight exaggeration, hugging her friend close.

"It does feel like that," she agreed. It did. In the last few days, so much had happened that she didn't feel like the same person. She wasn't the same person, she realized slowly as she stepped back and went to the table where Mr. Hadley was arranging the tea-things. She was confident and trusted herself more than she ever had before.

Or she had, before the scandal sheets.

She pushed the thought away. She was not going to let that trouble her. She would not let it.

"Gertrude said she saw you in Hyde Park," Viola commented. She made a face. "Not that I like to listen to gossip," she added. "But, was it pleasant?" Her gaze probed without being rude.

Bernadette grinned. "It was very nice," she said.

Viola smiled back, looking a little surprised. "He's not cold and scary?" she asked, seeming as though she could barely believe Lord Blackburne was anywhere close to friendly.

"Not at all," Bernadette said, warmth like honey flowing through her heart as she spoke.

"Well, then." Viola grinned, clearly pleased. She helped herself to tea, stirring it thoughtfully.

"Well, what?" Bernadette asked, seeing Viola's thoughtful gaze watching her as they drank.

"Well?" Viola asked teasingly. "What is he like?"

Bernadette giggled. "He...he is pleasant," she murmured, blood rushing to her cheeks in a flush. "Most personable."

"Personable?" Viola chuckled.

Bernadette nodded. "Quite so," she said with a small, prim smile.

"Bernadette..." Viola giggled. "What is he really like?"

"He's pleasant," she repeated, not sure why she did not wish to say more. "He is very interesting."

"Oh! Interesting, is he?" Viola teased. "That's better."

"Viola..." Bernadette flapped her hand at her, trying to make her stop. She was blushing hotly.

"Sorry," Viola said with a smile. "Forgive my teasing."

"Forgiven," Bernadette murmured, smiling shyly.

Viola beamed. They sat for a few moments, sipping tea and helping themselves to Madeira loaf.

"And you?" Bernadette asked. Viola smiled.

"Nothing," she said slowly. "Just thinking about the ball that I went to the previous night."

"And?" Bernadette asked, recognizing that dreamy expression. She had caught it on her own face a few times in the last few days. "And who was there?" she asked playfully.

"Nobody," Viola said primly. "Well, nobody and a very handsome captain of a regiment stationed here."

"Oh!" Bernadette giggled, almost spilling her tea. "I see. Is he handsome?" she asked inquiringly.

"Assuredly." Viola went red.

Bernadette chuckled aloud and Viola blushed deeper.

Bernadette was still smiling as she helped herself to another small slice of Madeira loaf.

As they talked and ate, her worries of earlier drifted into her mind. She decided to confide in Viola.

"I'm nervous about being in high society with the countess and her family," Bernadette told her softly. "She's insisting on it, and I don't like it."

"Well? Is the viscount fond of being in high society?"

"No!" Bernadette's answer was immediate. She knew he felt almost as exposed in social situations as herself—possibly more, since she might not have stood out, but he stood out for the wrong reasons. She sighed inwardly. Nobody could honestly believe the scar marred him. Since coming to know him better, she either failed to notice it, or saw how it added to his handsomeness, giving him a rugged quality others did not have.

"Well, then," Viola said with a smile. "If he doesn't want half of society there, I'm sure he will object to it."

"Mayhap," Bernadette admitted. She knew Lord Blackburne rather well, now, and she felt almost certain that he would say nothing. He was a strong person, but, like herself, he felt duty-bound to obey his family. She couldn't see him objecting to anything his grandfather wished. And both his grandparents seemed as set on exposure to society as each other.

"And you?" Viola asked gently. "What is your opinion on the matter?"

"Me?" Bernadette said slowly. "Well..." She lifted her shoulder, thinking. "It does not worry me as once it would have," she admitted. "Society is not as frightening now as once it was."

"Well! That's grand," Viola said slowly. She smiled.

They talked further, and then, at four o' clock, Viola excused herself and Judy appeared only a few seconds later, asking Bernadette what gown she wished to wear. Bernadette's stomach knotted nervously. It was one thing talking to Viola about defying the countess, but another thing doing it. She knew that her mother and Lady Lockwood would both expect her to wear one of the showy, elaborate gowns that they both seemed to insist were fashionable and suitable. But she wanted to wear something simple, something that suited her and made her feel more at ease.

"The pale purple gown, please." She had a gown somewhere between lilac and plum, her favorite gown. It had been made for her a few Seasons before, and was one she wore often, so it was a little worn at the hem, but she'd stitched it so nobody would notice. Judy grinned.

"Of course, milady."

Bernadette stared at her reflection in the mirror as, an hour later, Judy arranged her hair. Loose curls framed her face, the lilac gown soft and making her hazel eyes seem striking. Her brown hair had a soft gold sheen in the candlelight, and she tilted her head, pleased with her appearance.

That is rather pleasing, she told herself firmly. What I choose to wear to an informal dinner is entirely up to me.

She felt much more steadfast in her decisions. Her heart thudded with excitement as she dabbed fragrance on her wrist. She couldn't wait to see Lord Blackburne.

"Milady!" Judy called from the window. "The coach is ready for us!" She was pointing out into the street, eyes wide with excitement. Bernadette smiled to herself. She bit her lip, not wanting to grin too openly. Anticipation was bubbling through her like the churning waters of a stream, but she needed to be calm.

She drifted to the door, trying to resist the urge to hurry to the Rothendale coach, which would transport her to Aldford House.

"Let us set off at once, please," Bernadette called up to the coachman as she and Judy alighted, voice light with excitement. They set off through the streets, the sky a soft turquoise with the impending dusk.

The streets passed in a wash of color and form that she barely noticed for excitement, and they drew up outside Aldford House.

Bernadette's heart thumped nervously. The place was tall and stone-dressed, a little more recently built than Rothendale House, to judge from the columned entrance and ornamental scrollwork around the door. She jumped down, taking the coachman's hand, and swallowed a lump in her throat. What if his family were all like his grandparents? Spending an evening being instructed and implicitly criticized would be horrible.

She walked up the stairs to the door and knocked.

"Ah! Miss Rowland," the butler greeted her, eyes crinkling with his smile. "Good evening. The family is expecting you."

Bernadette bit her lip, mouth dry.

Then she saw him there, in the hallway, wearing a dark blue velvet jacket, his long dark trousers well-fitting to his shapely legs. She grinned, her heart pounding and her thoughts a little giddy at seeing him again. He smiled at her, making it so that she could look nowhere else.

"Good evening, Miss Rowland," he greeted, inclining his head in a swift bow.

"Good evening, Lord Blackburne."

She dropped a curtsey. Judy was behind her on the stairs, but Bernadette was only very distantly aware of her surroundings. Lord Blackburne held all her thoughts, his tall presence beside her, his soft smile lighting his eyes when he gazed at her.

"Come upstairs," he said warmly. "Everyone is waiting to meet you."