Read Online Autumn Glory and Other Stories by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online
Authors: Bárbara Metzger
Tags: Romance
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Inessa’s betrothal to their own Kelvin Allbright, after which Nessie and her vicar took the floor. While the happy couple danced by themselves, servants circulated with glasses of champagne. Irma snared one off a passing tray, downed it, and reached for another. Lady Bannister slapped her hand away and dragged her out from behind the potted fern to stand with the family for the toasts.
Then they were mobbed with well-wishers, Lady Bannister’s cronies, Nessie’s friends, neighborhood churchgoers. Irma managed to toss down another glass of champagne during the congratulations, which lasted through two more sets. Nessie was swept off by one of her disappointed suitors, and Lord Bannister took Kelvin off to meet some of the London guests. Irma was left standing at her mother’s side, in full view of the entire ballroom.
Mama was smiling and nodding to the guests, accepting compliments on the ball and on Inessa’s good fortune. Irma was smiling—Mama pinched the flesh between her long white glove and her puffed white lutestring sleeve every time she didn’t—and wishing she had another glass of champagne. Actually, she wished she had a glass of hemlock.
They all knew, of course. She could tell by the way the young women tittered and the older women avoided meeting her eyes. The men were worse, in specting her as if she were on the block at Tattersall’s. She could almost see them tabulating her dowry versus the trouble she was bound to cause. To the other side of the ballroom, Master Thurkle was waving his hands in her direction, most likely telling his chums about one hunt-hampering hobble after another. Bless you, Algie, she thought for the first time in her life, for telling them what an uncomfortable, prickly wife she’d make.
There were other knots of men standing around between dances, glancing at her and laughing with their friends. They were likely laying wagers on who’d be fool enough to ask her to stand up, or who needed her father’s blunt that badly. That loose screw with the dingy neck cloth and the frayed sleeves couldn’t be too particular. Nor could some of the fops headed for the library where card tables had been set up. Lose a fortune there, gain one back on the dance floor, what? Sooner or later one of the dirty dishes would approach her, even if it took a few more glasses of champagne for him to get up the nerve.
Maybe she could manage to tear a flounce. That would postpone her doom for a dance or two. Unfortunately, the white lutestring was in the simple Greek style, with nary a ruffle, flounce, or demi-train to get caught under her foot, no matter how hard she tried.
“Stop squirming, Irmagard. I don’t mind them assuming your attics are to let; I shan’t permit them to think you have body lice.”
Then again, one more glass of champagne might do the trick. Her head already felt thick and muzzy. Not even Mama could expect her to stay in the ballroom when she might cast up her accounts on the hapless soul who’d dragged his courage to the sticking point. Irma giggled at the thought.
“Well, I am glad to see you are no longer in the doldrums over this contretemps,” a voice spoke into her ear while Lady Bannister greeted another well-wisher. Irma turned and smiled. She couldn’t help herself, Lord Wingate looked so superior. His coat was midnight blue trimmed with silver that made the silver in his hair look even more distinguished, and he had a diamond in his starched cravat. “Good evening, my lord. Actually, I think the champagne has more to do with restoring my humor than anything. Would you be so kind as to procure me another glass?”
Winn looked closer at the young woman and caught the hectic flush on her cheeks, the slight waver in her stance. Once again he cursed her parents. “Devil a bit, I think you’ve had enough already. What you need, my girl, is a walk in the fresh air. What do you think your father will do if I ask you for a stroll?”
“I think he’ll have
Then they were mobbed with well-wishers, Lady Bannister’s cronies, Nessie’s friends, neighborhood churchgoers. Irma managed to toss down another glass of champagne during the congratulations, which lasted through two more sets. Nessie was swept off by one of her disappointed suitors, and Lord Bannister took Kelvin off to meet some of the London guests. Irma was left standing at her mother’s side, in full view of the entire ballroom.
Mama was smiling and nodding to the guests, accepting compliments on the ball and on Inessa’s good fortune. Irma was smiling—Mama pinched the flesh between her long white glove and her puffed white lutestring sleeve every time she didn’t—and wishing she had another glass of champagne. Actually, she wished she had a glass of hemlock.
They all knew, of course. She could tell by the way the young women tittered and the older women avoided meeting her eyes. The men were worse, in specting her as if she were on the block at Tattersall’s. She could almost see them tabulating her dowry versus the trouble she was bound to cause. To the other side of the ballroom, Master Thurkle was waving his hands in her direction, most likely telling his chums about one hunt-hampering hobble after another. Bless you, Algie, she thought for the first time in her life, for telling them what an uncomfortable, prickly wife she’d make.
There were other knots of men standing around between dances, glancing at her and laughing with their friends. They were likely laying wagers on who’d be fool enough to ask her to stand up, or who needed her father’s blunt that badly. That loose screw with the dingy neck cloth and the frayed sleeves couldn’t be too particular. Nor could some of the fops headed for the library where card tables had been set up. Lose a fortune there, gain one back on the dance floor, what? Sooner or later one of the dirty dishes would approach her, even if it took a few more glasses of champagne for him to get up the nerve.
Maybe she could manage to tear a flounce. That would postpone her doom for a dance or two. Unfortunately, the white lutestring was in the simple Greek style, with nary a ruffle, flounce, or demi-train to get caught under her foot, no matter how hard she tried.
“Stop squirming, Irmagard. I don’t mind them assuming your attics are to let; I shan’t permit them to think you have body lice.”
Then again, one more glass of champagne might do the trick. Her head already felt thick and muzzy. Not even Mama could expect her to stay in the ballroom when she might cast up her accounts on the hapless soul who’d dragged his courage to the sticking point. Irma giggled at the thought.
“Well, I am glad to see you are no longer in the doldrums over this contretemps,” a voice spoke into her ear while Lady Bannister greeted another well-wisher. Irma turned and smiled. She couldn’t help herself, Lord Wingate looked so superior. His coat was midnight blue trimmed with silver that made the silver in his hair look even more distinguished, and he had a diamond in his starched cravat. “Good evening, my lord. Actually, I think the champagne has more to do with restoring my humor than anything. Would you be so kind as to procure me another glass?”
Winn looked closer at the young woman and caught the hectic flush on her cheeks, the slight waver in her stance. Once again he cursed her parents. “Devil a bit, I think you’ve had enough already. What you need, my girl, is a walk in the fresh air. What do you think your father will do if I ask you for a stroll?”
“I think he’ll have
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