The ball was to be held on Saturday night, but already, on Friday afternoon, carriages were arriving from London and other major cities with guests coming to stay the weekend. Pemberton would be at full capacity.

The house was a hive of activity with Grandmamma, as the Queen Bee, directing the various servants in charge of different activities—guest servants—meals—music—the ball dinner—and on and on.

Thomas had basically withdrawn from the organization of the ball. He was letting his Grandmamma have free reign to direct the event as she chose. It was much more important to her than to him.

He and George were planning their trip to London. They needed to meet with the banker and the solicitors and try to drum up the rest of the investment. Autumn was coming on, and the racing season would be starting up again in March. They wanted to be ready to put their horses in as many racing events as possible next year.

But as the guests were arriving, Thomas was constantly being called away to welcome the new arrivals.

Finally, he said to George. “I think we need to give up for the rest of the afternoon. I have far too many responsibilities as host to be able to concentrate on our work.”

“I quite agree. And Helena has been after me to visit with her before the ball as her father is away and we shall not be discovered. Evidently, she needs my undivided attention to help her compose her ensemble. Although why that should be, I have no idea.”

“Ah, the mysteries of the feminine mind…”

“And it seems Helena has been prepping your Miss Barnett for her debut at the ball. It appears to be a more complicated campaign than Waterloo.”

Thomas laughed. “I am so glad all I have to do is tell my valet to pick something appropriate for me to wear and have him dress me.”

George teased, “And have the appropriate young heiresses been beating at Pemberton’s door?”

“Oh, God, I hope not. But I am certain Grandmamma has been up to her skullduggery.”

“Then I shall leave you alone with your admirers and see you tomorrow evening.”

“Tell Helena to save a dance for me. You may not co-opt her for yourself the entire evening.”

“I am certain she would scold me if I did. We are not married yet, and I know she prides herself on the scope of her admirers asking for a place on her dance card.”

Thomas sighed. “God help us all. I cannot tell you how happy I shall be when this is all over, and we can get back to our business at hand. Starting a new business is infinitely easier than having to attend one of Grandmamma’s balls.”

Jenny was early to arrive at Springford. She was nervous, excited, and quite unsure of herself. She had never attended a ball before and was ignorant of its many customs and traditions. Would she fit in or stand out like a barber’s pole?

Helena greeted her warmly and took her immediately up to her suite where she had tea awaiting.

“Let me look at you,” Helena said, as she held Jenny at arm’s length and looked at her up and down. “Good. No blemishes to cover up this evening and your hair is at least clean. Alicia will have a good basis to work with.”

“Helena, do you really think this is the right thing to do? I feel I shall be terribly out of place.”

“Yes, but remember, Thomas invited you, and he expects you to be there. It is the very least you can do after his kindness to you.”

“That is so true. Very well, then, I am ready to be transformed.”

“Then sit down at my dressing table and let Alicia begin work on you.”

Jenny sat, as instructed, and her transformation began. Alicia was a master at ladies’ hair and it took less than an hour for her to set, pin, and weave flowers into Jenny’s previously plain hair.

Helena oversaw the process and, in the end, took a step back and exclaimed, “Oh, dear Jenny, how stunning you look. Alicia, you created a true work of art.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Now work on my hair and then we shall get dressed.” She exchanged places with Jenny at her dressing table. “How are we for time?” she asked Jenny.

“We still have two hours,” she said after checking the mantle clock.

“Good. Now, Alicia, work your magic.”

“Yes, Miss.”

With a half hour to spare before it was time to leave and pick up George, both ladies were dressed and ready.

Helena was wearing a deep red dress with subtle gold dots. The skirt was high-waisted, as was the fashion, with pleats across the front allowing for a fuller drape. The puffed sleeves came to the elbow. The neckline was low cut and she wore her favorite necklace of amber and jade—the amber picking up the color in the dots in the dress. As she examined Jenny, she wrapped a dark gold shawl around her shoulders.

Jenny’s gown was similarly shaped but it was a dark—almost midnight—blue. The sleeves were shorter and puffed. A dark band of embroidered material belted the garment just under the bodice. But the most stunning aspect of the gown was the wide rust-colored hem along the bottom, topped with two layers of alternating diamonds in the same material circling the dress. It was simple but very striking.

“My Jenny, how lovely you look—we look. But wait…”

She went to her dresser and picked up a simple gold necklace with a dark blue pendant and put it around Jenny’s neck.

“There, just the perfect finishing touch.”

Jenny looked in the mirror and had to admit she did look fine.

“Are you ready to go?”

Jenny was nervous about how to behave, but she said. “I am.”

“Then off we go,” Helena said, taking her by the arm, and they headed to the carriage.

Because many of the guests were from London and had already arrived, there was not a long line of carriages to be unloaded at the front of Pemberton. There were far fewer locals, and George, Helena, and Jenny were welcomed and ushered into the house.

The ballroom was up the staircase on the first floor but, as was the custom, the arriving guests were ushered into a room on the ground floor where both the men and the women were allowed to change from their street shoes into their dancing slippers.

However, Jenny did not know of this custom and was momentarily flustered.

“Never mind, Jenny, I thought you might not have any dancing slippers, so I brought a second pair with me,” Helena whispered to her.

“Oh, thank you,” she said and began to change her shoes like the others.

George—being the gentleman that he was—offered both ladies his arms and escorted Helena on his right and Jenny on his left, up the staircase, along the well-lit hallway, and into the ballroom.

What a sight greeted the guests. The Pemberton ballroom ran across half the length of the first floor. Jenny had never seen so many candles. The room was ablaze with light and the lively chatter of the happy guests. A series of glass French doors ran along the outside-facing wall, leading to a terrace where the guests could retreat for a breath of fresh air, or carry on a private conversation.

An orchestra was already playing at the far end of the room but, as yet, no one was dancing. Tables and chairs were strategically placed along the walls, so the guests would have places to sit and visit when not dancing.

Jenny leaned in and asked Helena, “Are we to sup at these tables?”

“No. We will be called to the dining room at supper time. It will be quite a feast, I promise you. However, without your delightful delicacies.”

“What do we do now?” Jenny asked.

“We find ourselves a table for the evening and then we greet the hosts and hopefully begin to get our dance cards filled. The dances usually start within half an hour of everyone’s arrival.”

George led the way to where Thomas and his Grandmother were welcoming the guests. Jenny could not help but notice that his Grace was—without a doubt—the handsomest gentleman in the room. He was dressed in a black tailcoat with black breeches and stockings but with a deep maroon waistcoat, and a gold watch chain. However, Jenny noticed that, while he was being pleasant to his guests, he did not look all that happy.

The first to greet them was Grandmother Augusta. “Mr. Edgerton, Miss Comerford, welcome to Pemberton. I hope you have an enjoyable evening.” Then she noticed Jenny. “Oh, I do not believe I have had the honor, Miss…?”

Thomas turned to his Grandmamma and said, “This is Miss Jenny Barnett. She is a friend of mine.”

Grandmother looked puzzled. This young lady was not on her guest list and she knew nothing about her background. “Oh, Miss Barnett… welcome.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mowbray… Your Grace,” she answered, with her eyes lowered feeling shy.

Just as they were about to move on, Thomas said quietly to Jenny, “I am so happy you could attend the ball.”

She smiled as she answered, “I was surprised, but pleased to be invited. Thank you, Your Grace.”

He nodded and then turned to the next approaching guests in the reception line.

George was already marking in the dances he wanted with Helena, and several other gentlemen were standing by ready to add their names.

“Might I have a dance, young Miss?” someone said to Jenny. She turned to see a charming-looking young gentleman standing behind her. She handed him her dance card with the attached pencil and he wrote his name, and handed it back to her, saying, “Ralph Newton, Miss…?”

“Miss Jenny Barnett,” she answered shyly, marveling at the social swirl going on around her. All so new. All so strange.

As the young man left, Jenny happened to look the Duke’s way. He caught her eye and smiled.

Jenny was surprised to have a number of other gentlemen approach and ask for dances. Her card was surprisingly almost half full by the time George, Helena, and she reached their table and sat themselves down.

Within a few moments, the music from the orchestra stopped, and the conductor announced, “My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, the dancing will now start. And our first dance will be a Bouche à Bouche.” He then turned back to the orchestra and the dance began—with the floor filling up quickly. Jenny consulted her card and saw she did not have anyone penciled in for the first dance.

The reception line had disappeared, and Jenny saw Thomas lead his grandmother to her table. She was surprised when he then turned toward her and began to come over to their table.

“Miss Jenny, if you still have any free dances, might I add my name?”

She handed him her card. He penciled in several dances and returned the card to her.

“Miss Jenny.” He nodded and moved on.

She looked at the card and he had reserved three dances with her, much to her surprise.

“Oh, Georgie, this is one of our dances. Shall we?” Helena asked as they stood and joined the other dancers, leaving Jenny alone.

Thomas stood by his Grandmamma’s side while she was seated at their table. She looked up and said, “Thomas, you are missing your first dance. Lady Abigail Hawthorn is waiting for you.”

“Oh, very well,” Thomas grumbled.

“She is the eldest daughter of the Mayfair Hawthorns—with thirty-eight thousand.”

Thomas already knew the young lady in question from his earlier carefree trips to London. He happened to know she had already passed the age of thirty but was still boasting she was seven and twenty. She had a rather hacking laugh and her prime interests were whist and painting china teacups. He had crossed her off his list so long ago, and at that time, she was indeed still seven and twenty.

Thomas was determined to be pleasant to everyone all evening. He had promised his Grandmamma, and he planned to behave himself, but it was demanding immense concentration and willpower to stay the course.

“Oh, Your Grace, it is such a grand honor to see you again,” Lady Hawthorn said. “I thought we were to meet up at Ascot, but you never showed. And I have not had a single note from you since then,” Miss Abigail said, obviously trying to cover up her irritation at being abandoned.

“I am unable to get up to London these days as often as I used to. My estate is requiring the majority of my attention these days,” he answered as neutrally as he could.

“Papa tells me you are actively seeking a wife,” she said with her sweetest smile. “I know a fine gentleman, such as yourself, must have a wide variety of young ladies to choose from. I hope you will not forget the many charming rendezvous we have shared. I was thinking it would be so lovely if you might join the family at our country estate in the next month or so. We have a fine stable and many delightful trails to ride. I would take it as a special favor, and I will make certain you have a most enjoyable stay,” she said as she leaned in and whispered the last part in his ear.

Mercifully for Thomas, the dance ended, and he escorted her to her table and left as quickly as he could.

“Well?” his Grandmamma asked as he returned to her table.

“Well what?” he asked but knowing full well what she was asking.

“Do not be obtuse, Thomas. What do you think of her? Might there be a spark between the two of you?”

“It is a dead fire, and there is no spark which could reignite it, no matter how much fuel you dump on it.”

Grandmamma crossed out Lady Hawthorn’s name. “Your next dance is with Miss Marjorie Dunnstable. Her father…”

“No, Grandmamma, I happen to know she is engaged to Edward Simpson. They are to be married next May.”

“Oh…” She crossed off her name.

“Excuse me,” he said, and marched over to check with Willoughby on the progress of the ball.

“Is all in hand, Willoughby?” Thomas asked.

“All is well, Your Grace. Supper is on schedule for nine o’clock as planned and we are well stocked with champagne.”

“Excellent. Carry on.”

“Your Grace.”

Thomas caught sight of Jenny sitting alone at the table. He could not believe how lovely she looked. He took a moment to just stare at her and appreciate her loveliness. But what was he thinking? He must get used to the fact that she was totally unsuitable as a bride. He then looked around the room and perused the other young ladies in attendance. Many were fine looking—although none struck him in the heart the way Jenny did. He realized he knew most of these young ladies. Many were from his circle of friends in London and the few that were not, either looked like farmer’s daughters or were so overly dressed to impress that he was immediately put off.

There were, however, a few young ladies he did not know, who were presentable. He resolved to meet with and attempt to get to know them. Perhaps one might pass both his and his Grandmamma’s tests as being suitable. He decided that it was useless to follow the dance engagements his Grandmamma has set up for him. He headed toward the first of the young ladies that had attracted his attention and asked her to dance, even though his Grandmamma was waving wildly from her table for him to meet with the next young lady on her list.

Wilcox sidled up to his mother’s table and eased into a chair next to her.

“Mother, you have pulled off the most delightful event. Everyone seems to be having a grand time.”

“Wilcox…” she acknowledged. “Have you brought your widow with you this evening?”

“Alas, she was otherwise engaged. And besides, you did not invite her.”

“This is a ball to find Thomas a wife. Your Lady Monmouth has no children and thus was not invited.”

“Pity.” He sat with his hands in his lap looking out over the dancefloor.

“When are you returning to London?” Augusta asked.

“Next week. I have some important business to attend to.”

“Business that will bring you some real income?”

“That is my hope,” he answered looking for an opening to what he wanted to ask her.

“What is Thomas doing now?” she asked herself as she watched his progress around the ballroom. She consulted her list. “He is to be dancing with the Thompson daughter. Oh, Thomas. He is impossible.”

Wilcox could hold off no longer and he asked, “Mother, so many of your London circle are in attendance this evening. Might you find the opportunity to talk to them about what we discussed earlier?”

She looked at him. “You mean about recommending you to Lady Monmouth.”

He nodded and smiled. “Exactly.”

She appeared to be hesitant. “I have other priorities this evening, Wilcox.”

“But Mother, it is as important to me as Thomas is important to you. Certainly, you can see the advantage to the family of an alliance with the fair Lady Monmouth.”

She bristled but said. “I might find time after supper to speak to a few of my friends. But do not expect too much. I cannot promise any of them will act on my suggestion.”

“I quite understand, but please do your best,” he said, placing a comforting hand on his mother’s arm.