When they reached the Forsythes, Hattie was momentarily blinded by the glint of light against the gold of Mrs. Forsythe’s tiara. Daniel extended his hand too forcefully and thanked the couple for their generous invitation to him and his sister. Mr. and Mrs. Forsythe looked a bit confused, which came as no surprise, as the four of them had never met. But Mrs. Forsythe quickly ended the awkward exchange by inviting them to please enjoy the evening and ushered them along.
With that, Hattie and Daniel went into the grand salon with pink silk wallpaper and soaring ceilings and fine art and porcelain china bric-a-brac, brass candelabras, and floral paintings above the doors. The room was as grand as Lord Abbott’s home on Grosvenor Square, but even larger. Hattie understood that Mr. Forsythe had made his fortune in the railroad. She tried to imagine how many grandfather clocks could be stored here.
There were dozens of people milling about, in addition to a pair of footmen who wandered the room carrying silver trays, offering wine and spirits to the guests. Hattie didn’t know who anyone was, but judging by their dress and jewels, she knew them to be among London’s finest. She could hardly breathe, either from the excitement or the tightness of her corset.
“I’m having a drink,” Daniel said, and before she could stop him, he wandered away, weaving into the crowd. “Daniel!” she whispered hotly after him, but it was no use—he left her standing alone in the middle of that grand room.
She was uncertain what to do. She pasted a thin smile on her face and looked around her, wondering if it was de rigueur to introduce herself to other guests? Or was she to wait to be introduced? Her etiquette classes at the Iddesleigh School for Exceptional Girls had not included invitations to dinner parties one had no business attending.
Where was the guest of honor? Was he here? Was Flora? Was Hattie supposed to greet Lord Abbott or wait until he acknowledged her? And why in heaven hadn’t she asked Flora or Queenie any of these important questions before tonight?
Just when she thought she was in danger of launching herself at the nearest person, she heard her name. She jerked around in gratitude, eager to greet whoever had come to her rescue and, in her haste, very nearly knocked a drink from Lady Aleksander’s hand. “Oh dear! I beg your pardon, madam,” she said, and put a hand to Lady Aleksander’s arm to steady her.
The lady laughed and shook a few droplets of champagne from her finger. “It’s my fault—I startled you. It’s good to see you, Miss Woodchurch. My, how beautiful you look.” She smiled warmly.
Hattie could feel herself color—she wasn’t used to compliments of any kind, and the last she’d seen Lady Aleksander, she’d seemed perturbed with her. “Thank you. I...wasn’t sure you would recognize me.”
“Well, of course I do!” She frowned a little and leaned forward. “I arranged your invitation!”
The bottom fell out of Hattie’s stomach. “What?” She could think of only one reason that Lady Aleksander would arrange an invitation for her. She didn’t seriously believe Hattie could be a potential match for the viscount?
Lady Aleksander leaned closer. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
“Do I?” Hattie’s gloved hand went instantly to her face.
“I know what you need.” She turned and raised her fan, and just like that, a footman appeared with his silver tray as if summoned from clouds. Lady Aleksander took a glass of wine from it and handed it to Hattie. “This will calm any nerves.”
“Oh, ah... Thank you.” Her heart was fluttering—she could hardly seem to catch her breath. “I, ah... Why did you arrange an invitation?”
“Why?” She shrugged. “I thought you might enjoy it. And maybe...you’ll help me a little.”
“Help you?”
“You may have noticed that Lord Abbott is not one to share his feelings. Since you know him, I thought perhaps you might understand what he likes.”
Hattie’s heart sank like a rock. There for a moment, she’d thought maybe she... But that was so absurd. “Oh, I don’t know.” She could feel a bit of perspiration at her hairline. She laughed a little. “I’m not generally plagued with nerves, but I’ve never been to a dinner as fine as this.”
“I think you will quickly find that it’s just a dinner, like any other. Have you come alone?”
“Oh no. I came with my brother. He is...” She paused, glancing around the room for him. And then she spotted him...talking to Flora.Oh no.She inwardly cringed and sent up a silent prayer that he’d not said anything offensive. Flora was Hattie’s friend, but she was also her benefactor. “I, ah... I really should—”
“As I live and breathe, is that Miss Woodchurch?”
Hattie recognized Lord Iddesleigh’s voice, and turned with Lady Aleksander to greet Lord and Lady Iddesleigh.
Lady Iddesleigh had gotten a bit heavier than the last time Hattie had seen her—the extra weight had softened her features. She smiled. When Hattie was a student, Lady Iddesleigh didn’t smile much at all. Then again, she’d had five young daughters to contend with and it had seemed one of them was always quite unmoored.
“Look at this, little Harriet Woodchurch, all grown up,” Lady Iddesleigh said with delight. “I understand you’ve come into a very important occupation.”
“I don’t think it’sveryimportant—”
“Nonsense, it is! It was obvious to me that his lordship relies on your counsel,” Lady Aleksander said.
“No,”Hattie exclaimed, alarmed. She could imagine the rumors that would swirl about her, the girl who thought she might counsel a viscount. “I think the circumstances were a bit unusual the day you called, but generally speaking,no.”
“Miss Woodchurch, you shouldn’t have the slightest hesitation in stating your worth,” Lord Iddesleigh said.
“I don’t. I’m—”
