known to do on a lark, though Lincoln had outgrown that sort of thing himself. It was, after all, highly embarrassing to get caught in such a situation.
His aunt had no luck with her acquaintances, however, and said so the next evening at the recital they all attended. Which was disappointing in the extreme and started Lincoln thinking of desperate measures after all.
Yet the next afternoon The Invitation arrived. Lincoln—and the rest of the household—heard about it soon after, because Edith shrieked so loudly in her excitement she brought even the cook running from the kitchen to find out why.
Henriette was saying as Lincoln arrived on the scene there in the entry hall, “I don’t believe it!” Not once, but four times. Edith was still making sounds of excitement, just not as earsplitting as the original one. And two of the downstairs maids were trying their best to look over Henriette’s shoulder—the invitation was still held in her hand—to read what had caused such a commotion.
Lincoln suspected he wouldn’t get any immediate answers if he asked, so he took the paper from Henriette and read it himself, then raised a brow at her. “A ball? Am I to understand that you weren’t expecting this?”
“Not a ball, dear boy. The ball. The Moore annual ball is only one of the most exclusive balls ofthe season each year. I heard a number of ladies sighing over it the last few days, bemoaning the fact that they didn’t get invited.”
“So one of those visits you made yesterday paid off after all?”
Henriette shook her head. “This isn’t my doing.” And then she looked behind him to Eleanor, who had stopped midway down the stairs. “You arranged this, didn’t you? However did you manage it, m’dear?”
Eleanor might have tried to deny it, but her blush was a dead giveaway. She still tried to make light of it, saying, “Elizabeth Moore is an old school friend. As it happens, she invites me to her ball each year, but each year I decline, since I’m never in England when it’s given. I merely sent her off a note yesterday to let her know I was currently in London with my family.”
“It’s an open invitation,” Henriette said. “It includes your entire family.”
“Yes, she’s very conscientious that way, never misses little details that might cause her embarrassment later,” Eleanor explained.
“You’ve actually kept in touch with Lady Moore all these years?”
Eleanor nodded. “When you have a smoothly run household that doesn’t require much of your time, letter writing becomes a very pleasant pastime. I had a wide range of close acquaintances in England before I married, and I’ve kept in touch with many of them through the years. I’m sure you can say the same.”
“Certainly.” Henriette chuckled. “Though none of my friends hand out such coveted invitations.”
Eleanor blushed again, probably because of how hard Lincoln was staring at her. Once again she’d seen his need and taken it upon herself, without being asked, to fulfill it. Melissa would very likely be at that ball, and if she wasn’t, it was going to open the necessary doors for him to all the events she would be attending for the rest of the season.
He wasn’t going to thank his mother, though. Despite how this particular effort was going to help him, he would prefer she stop doing things expressly designed to gain his gratitude. Motherly assistance from her now only pointed out the absence of same for far too long. She could not make up for nineteen years of abandonment with a few paltry gestures. She was a fool to think that anything could make up for the brutal way she’d kicked him out of her life.
“This calls for a new gown, Edi, m’love—no expense spared!” Henriette exclaimed in her own excitement. “Actually, new gowns for all of us are in order for this, and luckily we’ve a week and a half to see to them. I hadn’t planned on attending any of the balls, when Linc is the only chaperon you
His aunt had no luck with her acquaintances, however, and said so the next evening at the recital they all attended. Which was disappointing in the extreme and started Lincoln thinking of desperate measures after all.
Yet the next afternoon The Invitation arrived. Lincoln—and the rest of the household—heard about it soon after, because Edith shrieked so loudly in her excitement she brought even the cook running from the kitchen to find out why.
Henriette was saying as Lincoln arrived on the scene there in the entry hall, “I don’t believe it!” Not once, but four times. Edith was still making sounds of excitement, just not as earsplitting as the original one. And two of the downstairs maids were trying their best to look over Henriette’s shoulder—the invitation was still held in her hand—to read what had caused such a commotion.
Lincoln suspected he wouldn’t get any immediate answers if he asked, so he took the paper from Henriette and read it himself, then raised a brow at her. “A ball? Am I to understand that you weren’t expecting this?”
“Not a ball, dear boy. The ball. The Moore annual ball is only one of the most exclusive balls ofthe season each year. I heard a number of ladies sighing over it the last few days, bemoaning the fact that they didn’t get invited.”
“So one of those visits you made yesterday paid off after all?”
Henriette shook her head. “This isn’t my doing.” And then she looked behind him to Eleanor, who had stopped midway down the stairs. “You arranged this, didn’t you? However did you manage it, m’dear?”
Eleanor might have tried to deny it, but her blush was a dead giveaway. She still tried to make light of it, saying, “Elizabeth Moore is an old school friend. As it happens, she invites me to her ball each year, but each year I decline, since I’m never in England when it’s given. I merely sent her off a note yesterday to let her know I was currently in London with my family.”
“It’s an open invitation,” Henriette said. “It includes your entire family.”
“Yes, she’s very conscientious that way, never misses little details that might cause her embarrassment later,” Eleanor explained.
“You’ve actually kept in touch with Lady Moore all these years?”
Eleanor nodded. “When you have a smoothly run household that doesn’t require much of your time, letter writing becomes a very pleasant pastime. I had a wide range of close acquaintances in England before I married, and I’ve kept in touch with many of them through the years. I’m sure you can say the same.”
“Certainly.” Henriette chuckled. “Though none of my friends hand out such coveted invitations.”
Eleanor blushed again, probably because of how hard Lincoln was staring at her. Once again she’d seen his need and taken it upon herself, without being asked, to fulfill it. Melissa would very likely be at that ball, and if she wasn’t, it was going to open the necessary doors for him to all the events she would be attending for the rest of the season.
He wasn’t going to thank his mother, though. Despite how this particular effort was going to help him, he would prefer she stop doing things expressly designed to gain his gratitude. Motherly assistance from her now only pointed out the absence of same for far too long. She could not make up for nineteen years of abandonment with a few paltry gestures. She was a fool to think that anything could make up for the brutal way she’d kicked him out of her life.
“This calls for a new gown, Edi, m’love—no expense spared!” Henriette exclaimed in her own excitement. “Actually, new gowns for all of us are in order for this, and luckily we’ve a week and a half to see to them. I hadn’t planned on attending any of the balls, when Linc is the only chaperon you
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