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Authors: Rules of Engagement
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streets.
The town carriage drew to a rough halt just as a bell in a distant clock tower struck ten, heralding their arrival at Lord and Lady Hogart’s fashionable home.
Despite Grace’s claim that their invitation to tonight’s supper was much coveted by elevated society, Eliza was not at all eager to attend yet another tiresome Society event— especially at the home of the famously ill-tempered Lord Hogart.
Already this week, she’d suffered through three horrid routs and to her dismay
and
her aunts’ keen notice, Lord Somerton had not attended any of them. Nor had he returned to sit for his portrait! Eliza feared her aunts’ belief in his romantic interest in her was growing woefully thin.
Thankfully, her matchmaking aunts had not pitchforked her any new suitors, but Eliza had no doubt they would soon if Lord Somerton could not be counted upon as her match.
Eliza drew her mantle close to ward off the dampness of the evening and peered through the open door as the footman let down the stairs and helped her aunts and sister alight from the carriage.
Through the tall candlelit windows of the manse, she saw a sizeable crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. She focused on a tall dark-haired man standing with his back to the window. Her heart began to pound.
Was it Lord Somerton?
He had to be here this eve. Just
had
to be. Didn’t he realize what a predicament his inattention had put her in? He was her partner, after all. Despite what happened in the courtyard, he was to be her … well, her salvation.
Eliza took the footman’s hand and reluctantly stepped out into the night. “We’re dreadfully late,” she said, her gaze drifting through the window once more.
Aunt Letitia snickered. “Why yes, I do believe we are.” She glanced at her sister.
“Pity that,” Aunt Viola added. “Now all eyes will be upon us when we enter.” She raised her gloved hand to her lips and tried, without success, to conceal her delight.
With mouth agape in awe, Grace stared up at the massive brick house, then made for the door.
Aunt Letitia lunged forward and managed to catch Grace’s arm. “Calm yourself, Grace,” her aunt scolded. “It would not do to appear overeager.”
Grace nodded her head. “You are right, of course. But how can I douse my excitement when my future husband may be standing just inside?”
Eliza groaned at her sister’s ridiculous enthusiasm, catching Aunt Letitia’s notice.
"We shall not have any of
that
this evening, Eliza,” her aunt warned.
“Yes, Auntie,” she murmured.
Aunt Letitia waved off their footman before he could lift the doorknocker, then drew Eliza and Grace aside. “Now remember, Grace, tonight we are employing Rule Five.
Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.”
Eliza wrinkled her nose. “What good will that do? I should think a man would prefer an intelligent woman as his match.”
“It is my impression that Rule Five means that men enjoy talking about themselves,” Aunt Viola said softly. “They will think you most amiable if you simply listen or ask questions that allow them to expound upon their own virtues and strengths.”
“Oh, of course,” Grace replied, bobbing her head like a pigeon.
The grand door opened before them at last and Eliza affixed a smile to her lips. What a simply glorious evening lay ahead.
After their party was announced, they were greeted by their hosts and led into an expansive drawing room. But for a few murmurs from the farthest reaches of the room, conversation stopped as the other guests turned to observe the band of latecomers.
Eliza barely cared. She was taken immediately with the elaborate decorations. Shimmering swathes of crimson and gold radiated from every wall to a central sparkling chandelier. It was as though she had stepped inside a sultan’s tent. She marveled at Lady Hogart’s creativity.
In place of chairs, large jewel-toned silk pillows were tossed in mountainous piles on the floor. Several
The town carriage drew to a rough halt just as a bell in a distant clock tower struck ten, heralding their arrival at Lord and Lady Hogart’s fashionable home.
Despite Grace’s claim that their invitation to tonight’s supper was much coveted by elevated society, Eliza was not at all eager to attend yet another tiresome Society event— especially at the home of the famously ill-tempered Lord Hogart.
Already this week, she’d suffered through three horrid routs and to her dismay
and
her aunts’ keen notice, Lord Somerton had not attended any of them. Nor had he returned to sit for his portrait! Eliza feared her aunts’ belief in his romantic interest in her was growing woefully thin.
Thankfully, her matchmaking aunts had not pitchforked her any new suitors, but Eliza had no doubt they would soon if Lord Somerton could not be counted upon as her match.
Eliza drew her mantle close to ward off the dampness of the evening and peered through the open door as the footman let down the stairs and helped her aunts and sister alight from the carriage.
Through the tall candlelit windows of the manse, she saw a sizeable crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. She focused on a tall dark-haired man standing with his back to the window. Her heart began to pound.
Was it Lord Somerton?
He had to be here this eve. Just
had
to be. Didn’t he realize what a predicament his inattention had put her in? He was her partner, after all. Despite what happened in the courtyard, he was to be her … well, her salvation.
Eliza took the footman’s hand and reluctantly stepped out into the night. “We’re dreadfully late,” she said, her gaze drifting through the window once more.
Aunt Letitia snickered. “Why yes, I do believe we are.” She glanced at her sister.
“Pity that,” Aunt Viola added. “Now all eyes will be upon us when we enter.” She raised her gloved hand to her lips and tried, without success, to conceal her delight.
With mouth agape in awe, Grace stared up at the massive brick house, then made for the door.
Aunt Letitia lunged forward and managed to catch Grace’s arm. “Calm yourself, Grace,” her aunt scolded. “It would not do to appear overeager.”
Grace nodded her head. “You are right, of course. But how can I douse my excitement when my future husband may be standing just inside?”
Eliza groaned at her sister’s ridiculous enthusiasm, catching Aunt Letitia’s notice.
"We shall not have any of
that
this evening, Eliza,” her aunt warned.
“Yes, Auntie,” she murmured.
Aunt Letitia waved off their footman before he could lift the doorknocker, then drew Eliza and Grace aside. “Now remember, Grace, tonight we are employing Rule Five.
Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.”
Eliza wrinkled her nose. “What good will that do? I should think a man would prefer an intelligent woman as his match.”
“It is my impression that Rule Five means that men enjoy talking about themselves,” Aunt Viola said softly. “They will think you most amiable if you simply listen or ask questions that allow them to expound upon their own virtues and strengths.”
“Oh, of course,” Grace replied, bobbing her head like a pigeon.
The grand door opened before them at last and Eliza affixed a smile to her lips. What a simply glorious evening lay ahead.
After their party was announced, they were greeted by their hosts and led into an expansive drawing room. But for a few murmurs from the farthest reaches of the room, conversation stopped as the other guests turned to observe the band of latecomers.
Eliza barely cared. She was taken immediately with the elaborate decorations. Shimmering swathes of crimson and gold radiated from every wall to a central sparkling chandelier. It was as though she had stepped inside a sultan’s tent. She marveled at Lady Hogart’s creativity.
In place of chairs, large jewel-toned silk pillows were tossed in mountainous piles on the floor. Several
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