Theodora fidgeted on the stool, nervous and eager in equal measures, as Polly gave a long suffering sigh and tried her best to get Theodora’s hair in place, without jabbing her with the pins as she wriggled.
At last, it was done, and Tia stood, looking at herself in the full length cheval mirror. It did not look like her. Where had this poised and polished looking lady come from? Polly was a miracle worker, as was the modiste who had crafted the dress.
Impulsively, she spun around and startled Polly by kissing her cheek, afraid to hug her in case she crushed the dress.
“Thank you! I have no idea how you make my hair stay in place like that!”
Taking a deep breath, Theodora left the room, and, feeling like a princess in a story, walked slowly down the stairs. Charles and Catherine, both in immaculate and beautiful evening wear, waited at the bottom, ready to greet the guests once they began to arrive.
Watching Tia descend, Charles barely suppressed a gasp. He was full of pride in his daughter, but, at that moment, she looked so like Monique that it was a bittersweet joy to see her so. Catherine watched him, then turned to watch Theodora, her heart full of love for both of them. This was a wonderful moment.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled, a little shaky still, but full of excitement, which bid to break free at any moment. She was afraid to let it do so, for surely she would completely ruin the impression of an elegant and composed young lady if she spun wildly about the hall for the joy of it!
Catherine took her hand, the sparkle in her eyes hinting at the fact that she had guessed Tia’s thoughts, and drew her forward.
Just as she did, there came the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel, and then a knock at the door.
“Come, it is time for us to greet our guests.” The Earl placed Catherine’s other hand on his arm, and led them both forward, as Wilton opened the door, and ushered the first guests inside.
~~~~~
Well over an hour later, the flow of arrivals finally slowed. Tia thought that every Inn for many miles would be full tonight and the next few nights, she had never seen so many people in the one place at the same time before!
Her feet hurt from standing in the one place, and her face ached from smiling at all of the guests as she had greeted each one. But most of all, her heart ached. For, whilst there were a few somewhat appealing gentlemen, most were married. Those who were not, were either old, rather ugly, or rather unpleasant – some in ways that she could not entirely define, but which made her not even want to allow them to take her hand in greeting.
Annoyingly, those who did not make her want to flinch away mostly seemed to barely notice her. As if being now officially the Earl’s daughter, and being seventeen, made no difference. She hated feeling invisible!
Most significantly of all, there was, as yet no Duke, handsome or otherwise. Tia could feel her dreams crumbling away inside. Perhaps her wish had been foolish, childish. Was this what being an adult was about? Having to be polite to boring people, whilst inside everything fell apart? It would seem that there was no chance of her wish coming true.
They were about to turn away and go into the ballroom to mingle with the guests, when the sound of one more carriage on the drive reached their ears. The Earl stopped, sighed, and patiently waited for the butler to show the late arrival in.
Tia shifted from foot to foot, wanting to move, to ease the ache in her feet – standing in the one spot on a marble floor was painful after a while.
The door opened, and Wilton announced, in his most pompous voice (which usually made Tia want to laugh) “His Grace, the Duke of Montford.”
Tia’s head snapped up, her eyes sought the newcomer, and, instantly, her evening was restored. For the man who was walking towards them was everything she had imagined, and more. Now, she thought, blushing, she had a face to put to the man in her dreams.
The Duke was looking at her, as he approached, and she was certain that he could see her blush – which realisation only made her blush more. His eyes caught hers, and she could not have looked away if she wanted to. They were deep brown eyes, with a faint gold light in them, like the touch of sunlight on the best German velvet. She quite fell into them, forgetting her surroundings for a moment.
She forced herself to look away, for staring was the height of rudeness. Her eyes slid from his, noting the angled planes of his cheeks, and the curve of a smile on his lips, the strong chin below them, before coming to rest on his hand, as it reached out to take hers.
He bowed over her hand, placing a kiss on it, a kiss which lasted just a little longer than was proper, before standing straight again, a full smile lighting his face at her confusion.
“Enchanted, my Lady.”
His voice was as rich and dark as his eyes, so resonant that she felt it on her skin, as well as hearing it with her ears.
Most amazingly, she thought, it sounded as if he actually meant it, rather than simply delivering the expected words.
He was, she realised, a little older than she had expected, even given Papa’s description of him, but the age sat well on him. He had not run to fat from an excess of indulgence, as so often happened to those who led the life of a rake and libertine.
She realised that she was woolgathering again, and that he knew, and was amused. Blushing, she spoke, knowing that she had been silent too long.
“Welcome, Your Grace.” She curtsied, elegant and practiced (and very, very glad of that practice now), and he released her hand, moving on to speak to Catherine.
~~~~~
Chase was more shaken that he wanted to admit. He had quite forgotten, until it came time to greet the Countess, that he still had hold of the girl’s hand. She was a pretty enough chit, and certainly more pleasant to look on that the silly girls that the matchmaking mamas of the ton kept thrusting at him. But that was no reason to forget himself – it wouldn’t do to seem too interested in any girl, no matter how small his actions, or the gossip would be marrying him off. He most definitely wasn’t ready for that!
Anyway, this one was barely out of the schoolroom – he had always liked his women rather more sophisticated and experienced than the average young Lady of the ton. He had to admit though, he could no longer hold to his determination not to marry. The Dukedom needed an heir. He pushed the though aside, finished his greetings, and turned, with his hosts, to go into the Ballroom.
~~~~~
Catherine had watched the interaction between Theodora and the Duke with some amusement – she suspected that Theodora was smitten.
Which may well be a good thing, so long as it did not go too far. Theodora was a dreamer, she was a girl made for romance, for activity and adventure, not for sitting quietly by and being bland in the way that was usually expected of the young ladies of the ton.
And Catherine was glad of it, where many mothers might not be. For her own mother had been scandalous in her time, and Catherine and Charles’ marriage had also been rather dramatic and touched with scandal. They were none the worse for it, and she was quite sure that love was worth it. Let Theodora find her own way, so long as she was not trapped into anything she did not want. Catherine would watch, and protect, but she would never try to lock the girl away.
The Duke was a bit of a surprise. She had not seen him for a year or so, since the wedding of James Blackwood, who was now Viscount Weirton, (his great uncle having finally expired of his longstanding illness) when the Duke had still been the Marquess of Travers, and had stood up with Blackwood at the wedding. Then, he had been a confirmed bachelor, with a history of dissolute and rakish behaviour to rival Blackwood’s. It would seem that becoming the Duke had reformed him rather.
Or perhaps it was the effect of seeing Blackwood a changed man, and happy for it? Whatever the cause, he looked fitter, steadier, and more handsome as a result.
~~~~~
Meanwhile Tia was finding herself, now that she had been released from the duty of receiving guests, rather overwhelmed by the flock of gentlemen who vied for her attention.
It seemed that her dance card would be full, but she was having some difficulty in arranging things to ensure that those she did not want to dance with were not deeply offended. It became easier when she realised that there were more gentlemen than dances.
But… he had not joined the throng – how could her dream happen, her wish come true, if he did not dance with her? She had no more time to consider, as the orchestra struck up with the tune for a well-known country dance, and the gentleman who had claimed her swept her away to the floor.
Three dances later, she was beginning to see that dancing so much could be exhausting, but that conversing with some of these gentlemen as she danced was even more so. She fanned herself vigorously, glad of the short break between dances, but beginning to be annoyed with the press of gentlemen.
Tia was, however, rather pleased to see that those young ladies who had most scorned her company in the past were looking most envious now, as the eligible men flocked to her. At least that part of her dream had come true (however poor spirited of her it had been to wish it).
Glancing away, wishing something, anything to look at except Viscount Albemarle’s spotty face, as he rambled on in an insipid attempt to flatter her, she looked past his shoulder, to discover the Duke watching her, from across the room. For a moment, again, their eyes locked, and Viscount Albemarle’s rather grating voice faded away, and it seemed that there was nothing, and no-one, in the room, but her, and the Duke.