Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

Atrain of carriages crept along the road leading to the gates of Kew Gardens, and the spring evening was filled with the sound of excited chatter and elegant music, drifting over the high walls of the royal pleasure grounds. It was one of those fine, warm evenings that whispered of a blistering summer to come, and the guests—both inside and outside of the gardens—were in giddy spirits, for it was rare to be permitted into Kew Gardens once evening fell.

Agnes, clutching a glass of punch, did not know where to look; her eyes overwhelmed with every wonder that surrounded her. The pleasure grounds had been transformed into a mystical realm, lit by flickering torches and tiny candles that dotted the lawns, creating the most magical carpet. Flowered archways and enormous vases, exploding with blooming sprays, had been brought in by Lady Finch’s seemingly endless crowd of helpers, alongside gazebos that were draped in billowing white and purple fabric and scattered inside with brocaded cushions where guests could rest and converse.

Meanwhile, a mythical feast took pride of place within the arboretum on a long table, bordered by smaller tables where guests could sit and dine if they pleased. And a dance floor had been laid in the center of vast lawns, watched over by the grand orchestra who had not ceased to play since Agnes arrived even though no one was dancing yet.

“Not the humble gathering you were promised, but my goodness, it is glorious!” Agnes turned to her sister, who was hiding in the entirely covered gazebo that was just for the family. Lady Finch had instructed Rose to stay there until it was time to make her dramatic entrance into society.

Their mother had also joined them, needing surprisingly little convincing when the moment had come for them all to depart the Mayfair townhouse. It appeared that, for the most profound moment of Rose’s life, their mother could rally the strength to attend. What was more, she seemed to be in a temperament that Agnes had not witnessed in a decade: Katherine Weston was smiling and laughing and gazing at the scenes before her with wide, awestruck eyes.

“It is too much!” Rose squeaked, taking a peek through the curtains of silky fabric. “I thought it would be akin to a tea party.”

“I do believe there is tea somewhere,” Agnes said, putting an arm around Rose’s shoulders. “This shall be remembered for decades to come, and if you do not find a suitable gentleman among this horde of guests, then the world has gone mad.”

Rose took a shaky breath. “It is very beautiful. Too extraordinary for a lady like me.”

“Nonsense,” their mother chimed in before Agnes could. “It is not extraordinary enough for a lady like you. Why, you could have your coming-out ball at the palace itself, and you would still be deserving of more. You are my blessing, Rose. You are my blessing, and I know that your father is watching you from the heavens, wishing he could escort you.”

Katherine stepped up to her youngest daughter and cupped her face, pressing a light kiss to Rose’s brow. A twist of envy tied a knot in Agnes’ chest, but all she had to do was look at the perfection of Rose, and it quickly unraveled into a swelling wave of pure pride.

“I am pleased you decided upon the peridot,” Agnes said, admiring the exquisite gown. It shimmered and shifted color depending on how the light glanced across the silken fabric, tricking the eye as it flitted between that yellowish-green and an orange-tinged pink. How it did that was beyond Agnes, but the dressmaker had truly crafted a gown to be remembered.

Katherine nodded, brushing her thumb across Rose’s flushed cheek. “It becomes you, Rose. There is not another young lady here who can compare to you, and I am not merely saying that because I am your mother.” She chuckled, a startling, rare sound. “You remind me of myself when I was your age though I was not nearly as beautiful. I was more like Agnes.”

“What I lack in beauty, I make up for in wit,” Agnes remarked, refusing to bite at her mother’s words.

The two of them were still not on friendly terms after the incident at the Dowager House, but as long as Katherine was there and pouring her adulations onto Rose, Agnes did not care if they were never friendly again.

At that moment, the curtain on the other side of the gazebo snapped back, and Lady Finch barreled in, grinning from ear to ear. The magic of the ball had cast its spell upon the Dowager, too, for she looked twenty years younger as she stood there, breathless and thrumming with excitement.

“It is time, Lady Rose,” Lady Finch said, holding out her hand. “I hoped I might be the one to introduce you with your mother on your other arm. Only if you are not opposed, of course.”

Rose quickly took Lady Finch’s hand, like a woman who thought she was about to tumble over a sheer precipice. “It would be my privilege to be introduced by you, Lady Finch.”

Katherine’s lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed, evidently irritated by the intrusion upon her own grand moment, but she did not say anything as she slipped her arm through Rose’s. Together, the three of them headed out of the gazebo and walked a shadowed, secret route to the dance floor where Rose was to be presented. Agnes trailed behind, sipping her punch. Forgotten.

To her surprise, a crowd had gathered around the dance floor, shepherded by the masses of servants who milled about in black and white livery.

Society is ready and waiting for you, Rosie, Agnes’ heart sighed as she slipped down the side of the orchestra stand where she could gain the best view of what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and honored guests,” Lady Finch began in a rich, theatrical voice that echoed across the arboretum, “it is my great pleasure to welcome you to this humble gathering.”

A ripple of laughter rumbled through the crowd, for everyone could see that this ball was anything but modest. Indeed, Agnes suspected that it was as much Lady Finch’s farewell as it was Rose’s welcome.

“Without further ado, I should like to introduce you to the young lady that all of this is for. A young lady who will assuredly be the diamond of the season.” Lady Finch ushered Rose forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding and charge your glasses to the Lady Rose Weston.”

Thunder grumbled and the ground shook, confusion whirling in Agnes’ head until she realized it was the boom of countless gentlemen’s feet, stamping their approval as glasses were lifted into the air. Meanwhile, the ladies applauded with a raucous delight that would not have been out of place at a music hall, their response to the newcomer one of seemingly genuine pleasure.

She is one of them, Agnes realized, smiling. She is where she belongs.

Indeed, dressed in that enchanting gown with a delicate diamond-and-emerald diadem upon her head and a peridot necklace at her throat, Rose resembled a queen. Her slender arms were ensconced in silky gloves of bronze with a matching ribbon beneath her bust to highlight her shapely figure, and as she smiled and waved at the crowd, it was like witnessing a coronation. She had not said a word, yet it was obvious that she would be beloved among her peers… and inundated with requests to dance and, perhaps, proposals of marriage.

Relish this, Rosie, Agnes urged, her eyes filling with happy tears. Savor every moment.

Her mind turned back to her own debut, and the very particular misery of being ignored by everyone present. Even now, she doubted that anyone had heard the Master of Ceremonies announce her name. All she remembered was sitting on the perimeter of the ballroom, waiting for someone to ask her to dance. When no one had, her mother had taken her by the hand and led her out of the Assembly Rooms, ushering her back into the carriage and to their lodgings, the entire debacle never to be mentioned again.

“If it has resulted in this,” Agnes whispered, drawing a stare from one of the cello players, “I would not change anything.”

Ignoring the stare, she let her gaze drift across the sea of guests, all entranced by the ethereal beauty of Rose. There were some expressions of jealousy and annoyance among the ladies, but no one could look away… which made it all the more jarring when Agnes’ gaze locked with the one person who was not staring at Rose.