Read Online The Chocolate Debutante by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online
Authors: M. C. Beaton
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duel, pistols in Hyde Park at dawn. Dangerfield is a first-class shot and merely winged him in the arm. The seconds said he could easily have killed him.”
“Oh,” said Harriet in a little voice. She could never in her wildest fantasies imagine two men fighting over
her.
“So how goes the fair Susan?”
“As usual. Which means I am increasingly worried about her. Young Courtney came to call with his mother, eminently suitable, and she was nowhere to be found. Then Dangerfield called and wagered me he could find her. Can you believe this, Bertha? Susan was fast asleep on a shelf of the press in her room with her thumb in her mouth. She had been eating chocolates again.”
Bertha looked shrewdly at Harriet. “And what was the wager?”
“That I would save the supper dance for him at the Trowbridge ball.”
“And then he took you driving for all the world to see! Hardly the behavior of a man who is enamored of your niece.”
“He
told
me,” said Harriet, “that he wanted to get into my good books with a view to courting Susan.”
“And that’s
exactly
what he said?”
“I cannot remember the exact words, but that is the sum and substance of them.”
“And what do you feel about Dangerfield for your niece, now that you know him better?”
“I do not think him at all suitable.”
Bertha looked down and played with the sticks of her fan. “Now, why did I think you would say that?”
Chapter Four
Harriet waited uneasily in the drawing room for Susan to make an appearance. They were about to set off for the Trowbridge ball. Harriet was wearing a dark green silk gown of a modish cut. She felt uneasily that the neckline was a trifle too low, but the dressmaker had said it was the latest fashion. On her head was the new diamond tiara and she had a fine diamond necklace about her neck. Her gloves were of lighter green kid, as were her little dancing slippers. She had fretted over the great question of whether to paint or not to paint. How many times had she and her friends jeered at society women who smeared their faces like savages. But the realization that her cheeks were a trifle pale had made her apply a little rouge, although with a guilty feeling that she was betraying some important cause. She worried, too, that she had wasted too much time, effort, and money on bedecking herself. All eyes would be on Susan and she would have to content herself with sitting with the other chaperones and mothers against the wall. But Lord Dangerfield had said he would take her up for the supper dance.
When Susan walked into the room followed by Harriet’s lady’s maid, Harriet thought that once the gentlemen in the room saw Susan, her own existence would be forgotten.
Susan was wearing a thin white muslin gown with little puffed sleeves, a low neckline, and flounces of muslin that frothed around her ankles like white foam. A coronet of silver roses ornamented her hair, and she wore a white overdress of silver-spangled gauze. Her only ornament was a thin string of seed pearls about her neck. Her wide blue eyes shone and her complexion, despite a constant diet of sweetmeats, was flawless.
Mr. Charles Courtney was to escort them, and when he entered the room shortly after Susan and Harriet saw the way he gazed adoringly at the girl, she felt a surge of triumph. With any luck, young Courtney would propose quite soon, and then all her worries would be over.
So this, then, thought Harriet, would be her own first London ball. For the very first time she felt a little nagging pang that she was so old. Her very fear of marriage had made her miss a lot of fun, she thought wistfully.
But what was the alternative? The chattel of some man and years and years of childbearing.
As she walked up the red Turkey carpeted stairs to the ballroom at the Marchioness of Trowbridge’s Grosvenor Square home, Harriet glanced at Susan beside her and felt a
“Oh,” said Harriet in a little voice. She could never in her wildest fantasies imagine two men fighting over
her.
“So how goes the fair Susan?”
“As usual. Which means I am increasingly worried about her. Young Courtney came to call with his mother, eminently suitable, and she was nowhere to be found. Then Dangerfield called and wagered me he could find her. Can you believe this, Bertha? Susan was fast asleep on a shelf of the press in her room with her thumb in her mouth. She had been eating chocolates again.”
Bertha looked shrewdly at Harriet. “And what was the wager?”
“That I would save the supper dance for him at the Trowbridge ball.”
“And then he took you driving for all the world to see! Hardly the behavior of a man who is enamored of your niece.”
“He
told
me,” said Harriet, “that he wanted to get into my good books with a view to courting Susan.”
“And that’s
exactly
what he said?”
“I cannot remember the exact words, but that is the sum and substance of them.”
“And what do you feel about Dangerfield for your niece, now that you know him better?”
“I do not think him at all suitable.”
Bertha looked down and played with the sticks of her fan. “Now, why did I think you would say that?”
Chapter Four
Harriet waited uneasily in the drawing room for Susan to make an appearance. They were about to set off for the Trowbridge ball. Harriet was wearing a dark green silk gown of a modish cut. She felt uneasily that the neckline was a trifle too low, but the dressmaker had said it was the latest fashion. On her head was the new diamond tiara and she had a fine diamond necklace about her neck. Her gloves were of lighter green kid, as were her little dancing slippers. She had fretted over the great question of whether to paint or not to paint. How many times had she and her friends jeered at society women who smeared their faces like savages. But the realization that her cheeks were a trifle pale had made her apply a little rouge, although with a guilty feeling that she was betraying some important cause. She worried, too, that she had wasted too much time, effort, and money on bedecking herself. All eyes would be on Susan and she would have to content herself with sitting with the other chaperones and mothers against the wall. But Lord Dangerfield had said he would take her up for the supper dance.
When Susan walked into the room followed by Harriet’s lady’s maid, Harriet thought that once the gentlemen in the room saw Susan, her own existence would be forgotten.
Susan was wearing a thin white muslin gown with little puffed sleeves, a low neckline, and flounces of muslin that frothed around her ankles like white foam. A coronet of silver roses ornamented her hair, and she wore a white overdress of silver-spangled gauze. Her only ornament was a thin string of seed pearls about her neck. Her wide blue eyes shone and her complexion, despite a constant diet of sweetmeats, was flawless.
Mr. Charles Courtney was to escort them, and when he entered the room shortly after Susan and Harriet saw the way he gazed adoringly at the girl, she felt a surge of triumph. With any luck, young Courtney would propose quite soon, and then all her worries would be over.
So this, then, thought Harriet, would be her own first London ball. For the very first time she felt a little nagging pang that she was so old. Her very fear of marriage had made her miss a lot of fun, she thought wistfully.
But what was the alternative? The chattel of some man and years and years of childbearing.
As she walked up the red Turkey carpeted stairs to the ballroom at the Marchioness of Trowbridge’s Grosvenor Square home, Harriet glanced at Susan beside her and felt a
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