Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

L ord Kemerton had been correct when he said London was not quiet at this time of year. Adelaide and Oakley received numerous other invitations over the next few days, though Lady Tipton carefully curated which were accepted. She claimed it had to do with the distinction of rank; Adelaide suspected it was to minimise her exposure to the less forbearing members of the ton .

The shopping trip with Miss Hanson and Miss Nugent came and went with little ado. They were kind enough yet, despite Adelaide's dearest wish to make friends of them, there was no overlooking the fact that they were both as dull as ditchwater. They had never travelled, never lived in the world, never experienced anything but luxury and indulgence. As a consequence, they had nothing of note to talk about, and the excursion turned out to be the nadir of Adelaide's week.

The zenith was the Countess of Trowbridge's ball. The invitation called it an ‘intimate, autumnal dance'. In the event, it made Mr Hanson's gathering look like an impromptu after-supper jig. For a start, her house was twice the size of his, and it was filled with easily twice as many people. Immediately upon arriving, Lady Tipton found a seat with some other matrons, leaving Oakley to escort Adelaide around the room.

"Is this more like the balls that take place during the Season?"

"Getting there, though they can be much larger. There were over three hundred people at the Duke of Pevensey's ball last year." He pulled her in a different direction abruptly, giving the whispered explanation, "You will learn that balls of this size are often just an exercise in avoiding the people you do not wish to see."

"Who are you avoiding?"

"Lady Veronica. I have no wish to see her parading around with her new beau."

"Should you like me to trip her up in the dance if I get the opportunity?"

"Yes, please," he replied with a grin, although a moment later, he stopped grinning. "You do know I am only joking?"

She gave a burst of laughter—far less elegant than Lady Tipton had taught her, but beyond her ability to repress. "I am not sure whether to be honoured or offended that you think me capable of it."

"Honoured enough not to be offended—offended enough not to attempt it."

She was still smiling at this when Mr Hanson stepped into their path.

"Miss Richmond! I thought it must be you. None of these other ladies ever enjoy a joke as well as you. You are in exceedingly fine looks this evening. And you have not scrubbed up too shabbily either, old boy," he added, giving Oakley a playful punch to the shoulder.

Adelaide thanked him, hoping her embarrassment did not show and privately resolving to laugh aloud no more for the rest of the evening.

"If you have only just arrived, might I be fortunate enough to sneak in a request for the first two dances before anyone else?"

"I am afraid I am already engaged for the first set, sir."

"Dash it! Some lucky devil wasted no time. The second, then?"

She agreed but was distracted when Oakley began gesturing for somebody else to join them. Adelaide turned to see who, and her stomach did a funny little pirouette when she espied Lord Kemerton approaching. She had never seen him in full dress before, and he was quite a sight to behold. He seemed somehow taller even than usual, and sleeker, his broad frame precisely tailored into an exquisitely fitted ensemble. His eyes were fixed intently upon her.

"Good evening, Miss Richmond, Oakley." In a colder tone, he added, "Hanson."

"My lord," the latter replied, all ease and friendliness.

Oakley detached Adelaide's hand from his arm. "Good. Now you are here, I can go and find Lady Eugenie. She will think I have forgotten our dance." He hastened away into the crowd.

"You are already acquainted, I see," Mr Hanson remarked, somewhat less amiably than before. "I am pleased for you, my lord—Miss Richmond is a rare jewel. We first met some weeks ago at Chiltern Court, did we not, madam? Indeed, it was I who persuaded her to come to town."

"Was it, indeed?" Lord Kemerton replied stonily.

"You are surprised?"

"Not in the least."

Mr Hanson began talking about the times they had been in company, but Adelaide stopped listening and shifted nervously on her feet. As Oakley had warned, there, cutting across the room in front of her, was a woman she would much rather avoid.

"Is something the matter?" Lord Kemerton enquired.

Mr Hanson stopped talking and followed Adelaide's gaze. "Ha! That's a good jape, 'tis Lady Grisham. I heard Oakley got himself in a spot of bother at her estate a few months ago. He had better keep out of her path if he knows what is good for him."

His bark of laughter brought the baroness's head whipping around to look at their party. Adelaide cast a desperate glance at Lord Kemerton, but he only smiled reassuringly.

"If you will excuse us, Hanson. There is someone I should like to introduce Miss Richmond to."

One of the musicians struck a note.

"Have a care, my lord. Miss Richmond will miss her first dance if you keep her to yourself much longer."

"Since that dance is with me, I do not anticipate a problem."

Adelaide was sorry to see Mr Hanson's disappointment, but there was nothing for it—she needed to escape her former employer's notice before everything came unstuck.

Lord Kemerton led her to the far corner of the room, where a group of men were gathered at the refreshment table. She recognised one of them as the Earl of Worthe. He had stayed at High Brook some years ago, and he was not the sort of man one easily forgot, for he could give Lord Kemerton some serious competition in looks. She thought it unlikely he would know her—she had been but a stillroom maid at the time—but it did little to diminish her agitation.

"Miss Richmond, may I introduce my good friend Lord Worthe and his brother Mr Ashley. Gentlemen, this is Miss Adelaide Richmond, Oakley's cousin."

"When did Oakley acquire a cousin?" Mr Ashley enquired.

"One presumes at birth," Lord Worthe quipped, then bowed over Adelaide's hand. "Utterly charmed to meet you, Miss Richmond. Alas, the first set is almost upon us, and I must away directly to find my partner."

"No matter, you have served your purpose now in any case, Worthe," Lord Kemerton replied. "Our path is clear once more."

"Oh? And from whom have I been hiding you?"

"Lady Grisham."

"I do not blame you, then. Terrifying woman!"

Still anxiously searching the room for her, Adelaide made a noise of ambiguity. "Less so when she is on her back beneath the Bishop of Alton." Only when a chorus of strangled exclamations erupted behind her did she comprehend what she had done. She turned back to face the group, her face flaming. "So I have heard."

Lord Worthe laughed first and hardest. "What a breath of fresh air you are, Miss Richmond. If you are not already engaged for every dance, I should be delighted if you would honour me with a set at some point in the evening."

His request was followed by one from his brother, and Adelaide accepted them both before being led by Lord Kemerton to join the line of dancers.

"I should not have said that. I am excessively nervous."

"Do not concern yourself. We have all heard the rumour. It is only that no one has ever been brave enough to say it aloud before."

"I was not brave enough to see it when I stumbled across them in High Brook's chapel." She glanced at him, then laughed despite herself upon discovering he was equally amused. "Thank you for rescuing me from her."

"You are welcome, although I do not think she would have recognised you. You look sublime this evening."

Adelaide was not sure he could have heard her thanks, for it came out as an almost inaudible whisper. She found her voice again when Lady Trowbridge called the dance—a quadrille with a baffling arrangement of steps.

"I hope you do not live to regret this, my lord. I did say, if you recall, that I do not dance well."

Lord Kemerton smiled a smile that could have banished a thousand qualms. "And I said, if you recall, that I do not anticipate any problems. "

His confidence was not misplaced. He was a more proficient dancer than anyone else she had partnered, and when he was not directing her with surreptitious nods and nudges, he was manfully leading her through the figures. So effortless did he render the activity that for the first time, Adelaide truly enjoyed it. She was able to appreciate the music, and her fewer mistakes relieved her of concentrating on her footwork and allowed her to talk more. Indeed, if it were not that she forgot what she was saying every time she felt the heat of Lord Kemerton's hands, she would have been quite the conversationalist.

"Are you feeling any more settled at Tipton House?" he asked during one of the quieter parts of the dance.

"A little, thank you. It will take time to really feel like home—I recognise that now."

"Do you miss your old life?"

"It may surprise you to hear, but yes. Bits of it, in any case. It does not help that my aunt does not like me to talk about it."

"Did you leave many friends behind when you moved away?"

"I did not really have time for friends. But the one I did have was wonderful. Her name is Patty."

"Have you been able to keep in touch?"

Adelaide shook her head, and when the next figure took her dancing close behind him, whispered, "She does not know her letters."

He did not reply. Worried she had put a damper on their pleasant exchange, she said as cheerily as she could, "I shall make new friends in time, I am sure."

"That I do not doubt. "

When the set ended, he led her back towards Lady Tipton's table. Adelaide thought she could feel someone watching her and turned to see Lady Sophia glaring at her venomously. She looked away quickly, abruptly conscious of her arm looped through Lord Kemerton's.

"That, madam, was the most I have enjoyed a dance in a very long time," he said to her, oblivious.

"That was the most I have enjoyed a dance…ever."

"I am delighted to hear it." In a lower, more serious voice, he added, "I hope you know you can count me among your friends."

"I do, I…" Adelaide knew not when he had gone from conceited and uncivil to gentle and attentive in her estimation, but the transformation was apparently complete. "Yes, I do." She was startled out of a rather overwhelming sensation of warmth by the appearance of Mr Hanson.

"You have had your turn now, Lord Kemerton. You must give the rest of us a chance to enjoy Miss Richmond's company."

Mr Hanson extended his hand to receive Adelaide's, and after thanking Lord Kemerton for the dance, she took it and was immediately whisked away.

"Earls, eh? Think they own everything," Mr Hanson joked.

"They generally do."

"True! Though that one most certainly cannot stake any form of claim on you . He is practically engaged to Lady Sophia."

"Yes. I had almost forgotten about her." She could have done without the unpleasant reminder moments before .

This dance ought to have been easier, for there were far fewer complicated figures involved. Adelaide was nevertheless obliged to concentrate carefully on remembering them, and her conversation suffered for it. Mr Hanson was too good to remark on her distraction and carried on the discussion almost as well without her. By the end, she could recall little of what he had said, but he did not seem to mind. He even extracted the promise of a second dance from her before returning her to her aunt's chaperonage afterwards.

The complacency with which these two encounters suffused Adelaide persisted for much of the evening. Until supper, to be precise. Oakley escorted her and Lady Tipton to a table and left to fetch them both a plate of food. Everybody nearest to them quieted when they sat down, seemingly unwilling to meet Adelaide's eye. The reason soon became obvious. At the next table, Miss Hanson and Miss Nugent were entertaining the other guests with a noisy account of their recent shopping trip.

"She was in raptures over a swatch of the commonest sarcenet. I declare, it was as though she had never seen its like before."

"I should not be surprised if she had not. From what I can tell, she must have grown up in the wilderness. She profanes like a farmer."

"She is intimate friends with her servants."

"She cannot ride, you know. Her poor cousin is having to teach her."

"Ignore them," Lady Tipton said under her breath. "Rise above it, and nobody else will pay it any mind either. "

"She speaks French, I grant you," Miss Hanson said.

Miss Nugent snorted inelegantly. "If you can call it French. Madame Beaujolais could not understand her. I had to translate."

Mr Hanson wandered past their table as the ripple of ill-concealed laughter this remark produced spilled over to more of the surrounding tables. Lady Tipton called him over, her tone furious despite how quietly she spoke.

"Your sister is engaged in traducing my niece. I should be obliged if you would make her desist forthwith."

Mr Hanson glanced at his sister then smiled ruefully at her ladyship. "I shall talk to her, if that is what your ladyship desires, but I beg you would not concern yourself. My sister is all bluster. Nobody ever listens to her."

But everybody was listening. When Mr Hanson momentarily drew everybody's attention by approaching her, Adelaide fled from the room. She made it two yards beyond the door before being accosted.

"Miss Adelaide Richmond."

"I am afraid I do not know you," she lied. She knew perfectly well who the stunningly attractive woman was—had changed her bed linens many times—had even emptied her chamber pot. The same woman who had watched her walk across the room with Lord Kemerton, hostility writ plainly across her countenance.

"My name is Lady Sophia, and you may not know me, but I know all about you. You are the upstart little nobody who has come from nothing to assume a position she does not deserve and cannot possibly fulfil. You will never make friends of these people. Why do you not crawl back to where you came from and allow the adults to get on with their lives without interruption?"

It seemed suddenly as though it was Mrs Booker standing in front of her, spewing her usual vitriol. Adelaide wished she could crawl away, into the nook at the back of her closet where she had used to hide until the world forgot about her.

"Sophia, that is enough."

Where Lord Kemerton had come from, Adelaide neither knew nor cared; but he was there, and he was evidently furious. Lady Sophia must have known it as well, for she flushed deeply red.

"It is obvious to everyone that she has been brought up by savages," she railed at him. "She does not belong here."

"You ought to be ashamed," Lord Kemerton said balefully. "I expected better of you. Come, Miss Richmond." He took Adelaide gently by the arm and led her away. "My deepest apologies. I ought to have foreseen that she would dislike our dance."

Of course! He had asked Adelaide for the first set days ago, when she was still anxious about making a good impression. It was a thoughtful gesture, but she recognised now that he ought to have danced the first with his intended. No wonder Lady Sophia was vexed.

"Adelaide, what on earth is going on?" cried Oakley, hastening towards them.

Lord Kemerton passed Adelaide into his care. "Get her out of here." Then he turned on his heel and strode back towards Lady Sophia, no doubt to make amends for slighting her .

Oakley instructed a footman to have his carriage brought forwards and then led Adelaide outside. Lady Tipton arrived moments later and began shushing her consolingly as she wiped her face with a handkerchief—the first indication Adelaide had of the tears she was crying.

"Please take me home, Oakley."

"We are leaving now."

"I mean to Chiltern Court. I should not have come. I am not ready for this." She was not sure she ever would be. She would certainly never be as well suited to society as the beautiful Lady Sophia, with her flawless countenance, luxurious chestnut hair, noble bearing, impeccable upbringing. And paragon future husband. She was not worthy of any of it.

"I do not belong here."