Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

After the Waterfords' ball, I slept in due to the exertion of the evening plus the late hour of our return. Young ladies were expected to survive an entire season of such activities in order to secure a suitable mate. Was it a test of fortitude as well?

I dozed past breakfast, so my maid brought food to my bedchamber. I wanted nothing more than to spend a quiet afternoon reading a novel. After satiating my hunger, I crawled back into bed and read until I fell asleep again. I was in the midst of a delightful dream featuring Lord Puffington when insistent knocking on my door woke me. Before I could investigate further, Mrs. White stormed into my room.

She stood at the foot of my bed, hands on hips, gaping. "Sarah! What are you doing?"

"I should think that would be obvious," I said, emphasizing my point with an exaggerated yawn.

"You must get up and get dressed right now," Mrs. White said, taking hold of the bedclothes and giving them a yank.

However, I was faster. Dropping my book onto the floor, I clutched the blankets with both hands and held tight.

"Unless there is a fire, I will not be getting out of this bed any time today. Please leave," I gritted at her.

She blew out an aggravated breath and relinquished her hold on the covers. A pulse in her plump throat throbbed. "You have already received two bouquets of flowers from gentlemen you met last night and it is likely that more flowers as well as callers will arrive. It is imperative that you are prepared to make a good impression. Which means," she drew in a haggard breath, "that you must get out of bed and dress."

She spun on her heel and exited. My maid entered before the door closed and within minutes, my plans for a leisurely day were dashed.

As I sat at my vanity watching the maid arrange my hair I thought about what Mrs. White had said. Flowers. For me.

Who had ever heard of such a thing? Certainly nothing so flattering had ever happened to me.

Two bouquets of flowers, but she did not say from whom they had been sent. Surely Lord Puffington would wish to acknowledge our new acquaintanceship in such a grand and romantic manner.

In my weary mind I ran through the other gentlemen with whom I had danced, giving a mental "yay" or "nay" to each one as their faces came to mind.

Then his face popped into my brain.

The Duke of Amherst.

With his dark good looks and eyes that seemed to see everything.

The man who had turned me over his knee.

And upon whose shoe I had spat.

I stole a glance in the mirror and saw that my cheeks had flushed pink.

Though I was still quite fatigued, in the light of day, I could see just how horribly I had behaved.

In my defense, I did not know he was a duke at the time that I spat upon his shoe. Surely that accounted for something, did it not?

I could hardly ask Mrs. White upon which members of the peerage it was acceptable to spit. Maybe a baron? Or a knight?

"Are you not ready yet?" Mrs. White burst into my bedchamber without even bothering to knock. "Give me that!" she snapped at the maid, grabbing the comb from her hand and giving an unnecessarily rough tug upon a segment of my hair.

The poor maid cowered, then left the room.

I envied her.

"Well, that will have to do. Lord Puffington is already in the parlor waiting for you. Come along." She grabbed my arm and hoisted me from my seat as though I was a sack of potatoes and dragged me across the room.

When we got to the hallway, she closed the door to my bedchamber and released her grip on me. She shook out her skirts and patted her hair. "Shall we?" she said, as though she had not just roughed me up like a common thief.

Then I remembered—Lord Puffington had come to call upon me. Me! A little thrill ran through me that a gentleman of his caliber and distinction would show an interest.

"And for heaven's sake, Sarah, be mindful of the honor it is that Lord Puffington has taken time to show his respects and call upon you. Please be on your best behavior and do not make a mess of things. He is your best prospect for a husband."

Mrs. White, happiness killer.

The sooner you are married, the sooner you will be free of Mrs. White , I reminded myself.

I managed to put aside the sting of her comments, descended the staircase with a fair amount of grace and entered the parlor with a smile for Lord Puffington. He was a most agreeable looking man. "How nice to see you, Lord Puffington," I said.

He bowed and then presented me with a large bouquet of pink roses. My heart thrilled. Not only were the flowers beautiful, but they would also send Mrs. White into a fit of sneezing.

"Thank you," I said, taking the fragrant bundle from him.

"Are these not beautiful?" I asked, turning to Mrs. White and holding them toward her. A look of horror flashed over her face before she schooled her features.

"Yes, they are quite nice," she said, taking a step back. "I will call a maid to put them in a vase."

While she went to the pull cord for the maid, Lord Puffington and I sat facing each other. He filled out a wingback chair while I perched on a damask sofa.

"You are looking well," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.

Then the two of us sort of stared at each other.

A maid entered and set a vase with Lord Puffington' roses on a table next to two other arrangements. One was an assortment of carnations in an array of colors and next to it was a small vase with the sweetest cluster of lilies of the valley in it. My heart warmed at the sight of the delicate flowers. Of course, no one in England knew they were my favorites. Someone had simply made a lucky guess. Each arrangement had a small card next to it, presumably from the sender. Curiosity tore at me, but I dared not take my attention away from Lord Puffington to inspect the cards. I could not be so rude to him. And Mrs. White, who perched upon a sofa in the far corner of the room, would surely have a heart attack if I were to do so.

Hmm.

No, I could not treat Lord Puffington in such a callous manner.

"I enjoyed meeting your sister last evening," I said.

"She sends her regards. In fact," he reached into his pocket, "I have an invitation for you and your father, as well as your … companion," he glanced toward Mrs. White then back to me, "for a dinner party at my home. It is Thursday next. I hope you will be able to attend."

As he handed me the invitation, our fingers touched. Strangely, it did not create the warm tingle which I might have expected. It was not as though I was in the habit of having contact with gentlemen, but the lack of reaction was curious to me.

Probably nerves.

"Thank you," I said. "I have no prior engagements and I look forward to attending."

He smiled. "I look forward to seeing you then."

And then he left.

Mrs. White was as startled as I was. She hurried to her feet and crossed the room. "What did you say to him? Why did he leave so quickly?" A look of panic filled her face. "I knew I ought to have sat next to you and steered the conversation myself."

The urge to shove her out of the way and run to my father, begging him to fire her, was strong.

I resisted.

"I did nothing wrong, much as it would please you if I had."

"Why Sarah, what a thing to say. You know I only want the best for you."

How she could even say those words and not have lightning strike her, I had no idea.

"He came to invite me to a dinner at his home next week." I held the invitation out to her as proof of my statement.

She took hold of the document and studied it.

"You shall need a new dress for this dinner. Mercy! I shall see to finding a hairdresser to tame your wild hair." Then she flitted out of the room as though her skirts were on fire. The petulant part of me wished they were.

The invitation filled my heart with excited anticipation. However, Mrs. White's exuberance and astonishment made me wonder if she really believed me to be such a sow's ear that she could not make me into a silk purse.

With her out of the way, I went to the other arrangements and opened the cards. The larger arrangement came from Mr. Smithers. I thought for a moment and tried to recall him in some meaningful way and sadly I came up with nothing.

Next to the fragrant cluster of lilies of the valley lay a card in an envelope. It was turned over so that what I could see was the wax seal with a deeply embossed "A" in the center.

My pulse hammered.

He wouldn't dare.

Would he?

Besides, he was not the only person with an ‘A' name whom I met the night before.

Though he was the first to come to mind.

I turned the envelope over in my hands and noted the strong strokes of handwriting spelling out my name.

My fingers slipped beneath the seal and opened it, pulling out a thick card with the crest of the Duchy of Amherst across the top.

My whole body tingled and I traced my finger over the raised crest.

Bold strokes spelled out a short message:

With all good wishes,

J.

I stared at the words, few though they were. I do not know what I expected or hoped for. The other cards had not been any more effusive.

Yet, something in me felt a bit disappointed.