The day of the ball turned out to be perfect. There had been a few nights when there was frost, but the days were comfortably warm with a bright blue sky and fair weather.

There were to be about seventy-five guests, with the dancing beginning at seven, then a nine o’clock sit-down supper and ending the evening with more dancing. It was anticipated that the ball would not end until well after midnight.

Lucy had never seen such a great deal of activity in the house. Extra staff had been brought in to help with the service. The ballroom and dining room had been outfitted with eight-hour candles and the most stunning arrangements of flowers—especially prepared and brought in from one of the top florists in Shaftsbury.

They even hired two orchestras, one to play formal dances, and the other to play country dances, as they had a diverse guest list and wanted to have something for everybody.

The kitchen staff had been doubled, and poor Mrs. Mead had not slept properly for three days. All the kitchen tables, sideboards, shelves, and benches were covered in prepared food. Much of it made several days in advance and covered in muslin to keep away the flies.

Lucy really wanted to see the guests arriving, but she was constrained by her duties in the kitchen and would feel lucky if she could steal away for even a few moments after supper to catch a glimpse of the fashionable couples dancing.

But for now, she had her arms deep in a tub of water shucking oysters. This made her even more determined to secure a letter of reference from the Duchess and apply for that job in London. She had had quite enough of this scullery work.

* * *

The Duchess had a knack for being able to pull herself together and become the charming hostess when the occasion required. And this was to be her command performance. Her family depended on it.

Deep in her heart, and much to her sorrow, she was ready to sacrifice Ann to spinsterhood—knowing her difficult disposition—but she would be damned before she gave up on Charlotte and Betsy.

The first guests would be arriving within the next half hour. Judith had gone through the house and inspected every single detail she could think of before she was to be dressed. And now she stood before her mirror, Flossy at her side, examining the final outcome.

“Excellent work, Your Grace,” Flossy said.

“You think so?”

“You have never looked lovelier.”

Judith had to admit, the girl was right.

“Very well then, you must take charge of Isabell for the evening and accompany me to the ballroom. I will require you to be in attendance all evening.”

“And Miss Lucy, Your Grace? You usually prefer her to be with you.”

Judith glanced over at the plain Flossy. “No, I want you with me this evening. Miss Lucy is to be called only if there is an emergency and only if I request her. You understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

* * *

The Duke and George were to receive the guests at the main entrance, and The Duchess and her daughters were to greet the guests as they arrived in the ballroom. It was thought the flickering candlelight would add a charming blush to the daughters, whose fate depended on a successful and glittering evening. They must be showcased at the very beginning.

But before the guests arrived at the second receiving line, both the ladies and gentlemen needed to change into their dancing shoes, which they carried with them in shoe bags. The shoes and boots they arrived in were inappropriate for the light and fanciful dances of the evening, and flexible dancing slippers were required for both sexes.

The ballroom was one of the delights of Grayson Manor. It ran the length of one wing of the house, with windows on one side overlooking the estate and the opposite wall covered with mirrors, reflecting the view in the daytime, and the dancers, the myriad candles, and flowers reflecting in the evening. The scent of the burning candles filled the air, mingled with the perfumes of the various guests.

As the guests streamed into the ballroom, the elders found chairs around the perimeter where they might chat amongst themselves and watch the young people dance. The rest of the guests quickly formed into cliques of folks who knew each other. But they were all eyeing each other looking for advantageous new connections.

The Duchess was intent on filling up all the dances on her daughters’ dance cards—however, leaving a few dances free in case some young gentleman of quality was interested enough to ask for a second dance.

Judith had specifically reserved a place next to her for her dear friend, the Dowager Countess Rose Coombs, who knew everyone of quality in the county and could be called upon to narrate the story of each gentleman who showed any interest in one of her daughters.

After the receiving line dwindled, the Duchess nodded to the orchestra conductor to start the dancing and almost immediately the dance floor filled with dancers for a lusty Boulanger. The dance began, and the participants began to prance, hop, and swirl in grand exuberance.

Judith went to her chair and took Isabell from Flossy who was standing by. Judith leaned over to Countess Rose and said discreetly, “A most important evening. It is impossible to contemplate three unmarried daughters. I am counting on you to help me snare a couple or three perfect bachelors.”

The Countess chuckled. “You and at least a dozen other mothers in attendance this evening. I never knew such a surplus of daughters and a drought of suitable young gentlemen. Have they all joined the guards and gone off to India?”

Judith sighed, and then sighted Charlotte dancing with a relatively decent looking young man. “And who would that be with Charlotte?” she asked Rose.

“Ah, that is Jeremiah Cotsworth. The third son of the principal wool merchant from Shaftesbury. Decent, but with very little prospects unless they send him up to the university.”

“Ah…,” the Duchess said, writing into her little notebook and then picking up her fan and checking out the dance floor from behind it.

“And the young man with Betsy?”

The Countess squinted and finally finding Betsy said, “Oh, no. Totally unsuitable. His father is a tradesman of the lowest order. I am surprised he made it on to your guest list.”

Judith shuffled in her chair. It was difficult dealing with Isabell, her notebook, and her fan all at the same time.

Several more dances passed, and the Duchess spotted a handsome young gentleman who had just come into the ballroom with a sweet young lady at his side. Judith elbowed the Countess who had nearly fallen asleep.

“And who is that young man?” she asked with great enthusiasm.

The Countess jerked out of her stupor and looked up. “Oh, that is Beaumont Goodwin and his sister, Priscilla. They only recently settled into the Brookdale Estate for the foreseeable future. Down from London, and I believe he is the first son of Lord Goodwin the current Exchequer.”

“Lord Goodwin?”

“And the family has quite an estate in Shropshire—cattle, pork, grains, and a distillery in Scotland.

Judith became very excited, but then realized he was not on any of her daughter’s dance cards. Something must be done. Oh, where was Lucy when she needed her? And then, of course, she remembered. Lucy had been consigned to the kitchen for the evening. Drat.

The Duchess looked around to see whom she might call upon and spotted George who was not dancing at the moment. She caught his gaze and waved for him to come over—which he did. George was handsomely dressed in his finest attire—camel colored breeches, with a maroon waistcoat and a black cravat and coat.

“Georgie, I need you to fetch the young gentleman and lady who just came into the ballroom—unfashionably late, I might add.”

“Which would those be, Mother? I have not been following who might be coming or going.”

Judith pointed discreetly with her fan toward the couple. The gentleman in the brown coat with the charming looking young lady.”

George examined them and asked, “You wish to speak to them?”

“I do.”

George went over to Mr. Goodwin and introduced himself to the new couple.

“Ah, one of the Graysons,” Beaumont said, “How splendid. My sister and I have just come down from London. We have established ourselves at Brookdale. And it seems we are neighbors. We were told it would be acceptable to attend this evening’s festivities even without an invitation.”

The young gentleman was most genteel, George thought.

“Do you hunt old man?” Beaumont asked.

“Only occasionally. My father, the Duke is a much more active hunter than I am.”

“One of the reasons we took Brookdale was because of the abundant game. If you ever care to join up, it would be a pleasure to have you.”

“I shall keep that in mind. However, my current task is to take you to my mother, the Duchess. She longs to make both of your acquaintance.”

“Lead on. Must carry out our duties to the hostess. And then I am itching for a dance.”

George directed the couple to his mother, who beamed when they approached.

The Duchess held out her hand, although she did not rise.

“Judith Grayson, The Duchess of Sutherland,” George introduced.

“Beaumont Goodwin, and my younger sister, Priscilla—newly of Brookdale. At your service,” Beaumont said, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Charmed,” the Duchess replied.

So far Miss Priscilla had not spoken a word—except with her eyes. She was gazing intently at George, and when he turned to her, she gave him a most delicate and delightful smile.

Beaumont at three and twenty years of age was not quite as tall as George, but he was solidly built and most handsome with black curly hair, blue eyes, and a ready smile. Miss Priscilla had dark reddish hair that was almost a dark brown, prettily put up in the current fashion with diamond pins inserted to give her an almost halo effect. She, too, had blue eyes and a most charming face with a small mouth but an expressive smile.

The Duchess had sent Flossy to retrieve her daughters and bring them over when they had finished their current dance.

“We wondered who had taken Brookdale,” Judith said, “For we heard rumors that some gentry had recently moved in.”

Beaumont nodded. “And happy to be in Dorset. My family actually has ancient connections to the area, and it seemed suitable to return.”

“And will you be here long?”

“It is uncertain. But at least for the season.

Ann and Charlotte approached, shortly followed by Betsy at a distance.

“Ah, my daughters.” She held out her hand and waved for them to approach closer, eager as she was for them to meet the Goodwins.

The Duchess took hold of Ann’s hand and pulled her closer. Mr. Beaumont Goodwin, this is my eldest, Ann—and such a sweet nature.”

Ann’s face let up at seeing the handsome Beaumont, and she curtsied and even blushed. “So charmed,” she said, taking his hand and reluctant to let go.

“And this is my middle daughter, Charlotte.” It was clear that Charlotte, too, was taken with Beaumont and put her hand to her breast and gave him her broadest smile.

“Both of these fine ladies still have some free dances if you would care to enter your name onto their cards.”

“I would be delighted to.”

And while he was entering his name on their cards, Priscilla turned to George and asked, “Mr. George, I have heard that you are a painter, is that so?”

“Indeed, it is. And how did you hear that?”

“Oh, I am active in the art world in London, and I have seen your work in the gallery.”

“How splendid,” George said smiling.

“I should so love to see any of your work you would care to show me that has not yet been sent up to London.”

“I expect that could be arranged.”

Betsy finally came forward and was introduced, but quickly disappeared afterward.

Beaumont bowed to the daughters and said, “I promised my sister the first dance.” Then he turned to George, “But if it pleases you, I am certain she would be happy to dance with you, George, as we were inexcusably late, and she has a completely empty dance card.

“But not for long, I would imagine,” George graciously added.

That elicited a generous smile from pleased Priscilla.