Regency Valentines by Jo Beverley

Author:Jo Beverley [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter One

"Ready, dear?" Aunt Martineux used the bright tone she always applied when preparing for another foray into the Ton.

"Quite ready." Agnes rose from her dressing table pulling on long, white silk gloves. As ready as she could ever be.

Her visit to Town was proving to be fully as much a trial as she'd expected. She didn't want to be here, supposedly seeking a husband, and her poor aunt didn't want to be hauling such an unpromising bundle around from rout to soiree to ball. The eligible gentlemen of London certainly didn't want to be compelled to dance with her.

She turned to the long mirror to make sure she was at least tidy -- that none of her fine, mousy hair was escaping its pins, and that the maid hadn't scattered the powdered rouge onto her ivory silk gown. She'd tried to rebel against the rouge, but her aunt had wailed on so about her sun-browned complexion, and she had promised to obey her aunt.

In the case of the ivory silk and its fellows, she obeyed with good grace. There was always the possibility that an eligible gentleman would decide that her portion of four thousand pounds outweighed her lack of charms. In the pale, frilly fashion designed for youthful ingénues she was safe. Nothing could suit her less.

She nodded at her reflection, satisfied. She had only one week to survive before she could return home. Only seven more evenings to endure. She turned, but paused. Her aunt's thin gloved fingers were tight on her fan and she might even be paler than usual.

"Are you quite all right, Aunt? We can stay at home if-"

"No! Not at all. It's only that.... Your grandmother is here!" she blurted.

"Here?" Abby asked, squeaking from a tight throat. "In Town?"

"Here," Lady Martineux repeated. "In the drawing room."

Agnes sat down again. "Oh, my. Why?"

"To take command of your case. I have begged you to apply yourself more!"

"More? Am I not in silk, with rouged cheeks and lips? Do I not attend every event you devise and do my best to be pleasing? What more should I do?"

"Oh dear, oh dear. Do try not to speak like that to. But as always, you will do as you think right." She made that seem like a sin. "She demands to inspect you before we leave. And,” she added faintly, “she's staying,"

"Staying?"

"In this house. For the next week."

Agnes knew how dreadful that would be. "I'm very sorry, Aunt."

"And so you should be! Oh, I apologize, dear. I don't mean to berate you, but what Martineux will say when he finds out his mother's here I don't know. Come along, do, and try to placate her. If you could secure a proposal tonight, she might return to Preston Park tomorrow."

Agnes rose and followed her aunt along the corridor rejecting that solution, even if it were possible. But, oh, she wished she weren't terrified.

It was ten years since she'd encountered the Dowager Lady Martineux, mother to Lady Martineux's husband plus Agnes's father, a general, an admiral and two countesses, all of whom trembled before her.

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