Pam Rosenthal - The Slightest Provocation

And when, Fannie wondered, had her cousin learned to tilt her head that way, the pretty moonstone earrings twinkling so brightly in the candlelight that when you looked at them you’d have to look into her eyes as well? I think I may have taught her that one, she decided. But upon my word, she’s a quick study, a perfect little automaton of my own creating.

The proof was in the pudding: Lord Ayres was gazing into Elizabeth’s blue eyes as Narcissus might at his own reflection, beaming and smiling away as he informed Miss Elizabeth Grandin that she’d simply have to wait and see for herself, when she came out next year and graced all the most splendid parties in Mayfair.

“But if I’m not invited, sir?”

“If you’re not invited, no one will be. Next season no one will give a ball worthy of the name without Miss Grandin in attendance.” He raised his eyes for a moment. “ And Miss Fannie Grandin, of course.”

Which might have stung, Fannie thought, rather like the bite of a gnat, if I still cared to receive compliments from just anyone.

Absurd to lose her equanimity upon finding herself relegated to the category of an afterthought by a young gentleman with a hyacinthine haircut, a lavender waistcoat, and a handkerchief perfumed to match.

She didn’t care a jot. Or in any event, the woman she’d recently felt herself to have become didn’t care. That woman (a woman, she reminded herself, and not simply a young lady) would care for nothing but keeping watch over the entryway of the Cauthorn assembly hall, for the arrival of…

She’d spilled what was left of her lemonade. Fred, who’d had the misfortune to tear himself away from Miss Halsey just a few moments before, was being very dear about it, laughing and turning the whole thing into a joke as he blotted up his lap-thank goodness the lemonade had splashed him and not her, at exactly the moment she’d glimpsed the party from Rowen, just entered the foyer, on the other side of the tall double doors.

He and his sister-in-law seemed to have brought two younger gentlemen along with them. But she hadn’t enough attention for the others, so intently was her gaze trained upon him. He was helping the young marchioness off with an evening wrap of an odd salmon color. Not quite the thing with her ladyship’s rusty hair, but thrilling as a momentary splash of color against the severe black-and-white of his evening clothes.

Arm in arm, he and his sister-in-law moved to congratulate the members of the assembly committee, who were standing in a self-satisfied little knot, quite close to where Fannie, Elizabeth, Fred, and Lord Ayres had their chairs.

“But how extremely lovely you young ladies look.”

And how sweet of the young marchioness to say so, Elizabeth thought, as she and her party rose to greet their estimable neighbors. Her ladyship was looking very well this evening. Less pinched than usual; it was good for her to get a little recreation-Lord Christopher had been quite correct on that score. Odd, how upon first espying him tonight she’d thought him a bit overshadowed by the tall young man with the austere features and interesting aquiline nose. It must be Viscount Sherwynne, finally returned from the continent, while of course the last gentleman of the party could be no one but Lord George.

“And have you all been dancing?” Her ladyship asked, and then laughed, for of course they evidently all had-even after their lemonade (inside and out) they still rather glowed with the exertion.

“It’s been wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “I didn’t know it would be so agreeable-well, it’s my first dance party, you know, except among my family.”

Too bad Mama didn’t come this evening.

The guilty thought surprised her. I might have suggested it, she told herself, if I’d been more generous. If I’d been willing to share the pleasure of my first assembly with her. Well, if I hadn’t been so terrified of this evening that I couldn’t have borne having her here to see me if I’d been a wallflower.

But she hadn’t been a wallflower. Parties weren’t dreadful after all. Well, anyway, Mama would enjoy hearing about it later tonight. And even Aunt Mary, if she liked-she hoped they’d still be up, so she could tell them.

She smiled at her uncle Lord Christopher. Hmmm, now that she was paying better attention, he wasn’t so awfully much taller than she was. Which might be worrisome, if it weren’t that there were quite a lot of tall men in the world once you kept an eye out for them; most of the Stansells were quite tall, actually. She extended her smile to include Lord Christopher’s nephew and younger brother, who were just sauntering up to join their circle and who’d be at Rowen, no doubt, next time she visited there.

Interesting, she thought, how all those years she’d been growing up she’d never really paid much attention to the viscount. In fact, it seemed to her now that she’d been shamefully ignoring most of the male sex, which was awfully silly, since of late each new gentleman she met had something interesting about him. Viscount Sherwynne, poor thing, must have had another riding accident, for he had his arm slung up in a large kerchief of purple silk. She’d never considered it before now, how a wound-well, a modest and temporary one anyway-rather added to a gentleman’s allure. She widened her eyes to indicate compassion for the viscount’s suffering, and then, just to be cordial, extended her glance to his youngest uncle.

Of course, everyone in the neighborhood knew Lord George Stansell; the difficulty here was ignoring his pronounced resemblance to the Prince of Wales-or willing oneself to believe it didn’t signify anything. She would have warned Fannie if she’d known he’d be here tonight. But surely Fannie was a cool enough presence and had probably already heard the gossip.

And indeed (now that she’d sneaked a glimpse in her direction), her cousin appeared a regular ice maiden of rectitude and self-possession, dipping into a perfectly calibrated curtsy when Lord Christopher presented her to his brother and nephew, bestowing a calm and very adult smile on all the company (how does she do that? Elizabeth wondered. I shall have to try it at home in front of the mirror), and now murmuring her well-bred delight and astonishment at the welcome surprise of their presence.

“My grandmama insisted we both were to come home with her,” the viscount replied, “but when she discovered I wasn’t well enough to travel, she decided not to bother Mama with the details of all that, and then”-he seemed to be attempting not to smile, and Yes, Elizabeth thought, he’s glancing at me as he speaks; he wants me to share the joke -“Uncle Georgy had some, ah, business to finish up in Paris.”

She wanted very much to giggle, the joke being that Lord George resembled the Prince of Wales in more than just his looks. But giggling wouldn’t be the thing at all-and Fannie needn’t be sending her that warning look either. I know my manners perfectly well, she thought, even if it is my first dance party outside the family.

“In any case”-the marchioness seemed almost beside herself for happiness, and willing, at least this once, to let her son’s innuendo pass without censure-“with the marquess’s condition improving so rapidly, and having the viscount home with us again…”

Everyone murmured the appropriate felicitations. And Fannie even remembered to ask after the dowager marchioness.

“And so you’ve arrived only today?” Elizabeth asked the viscount. “You must be terribly exhausted. How extremely good of you and your uncle to come this evening, to our little country dance.”