Then she pointed a stern finger at Julian.
“But you will conduct yourself properly.”
Julian bowed.
“As ever, Aunt.”
“And you will dance with Miss Langley.”
“If she permits me.”
Clara looked up.
“I shall consider it.”
Lady Honoria sighed.
“Good heavens. Between the two of you, I expect to be in my grave before Christmas.”
On the evening of the assembly, Alderwick House blazed with light.
Carriages arrived along the gravel drive beneath a cold autumn sky.
Candles shone in the windows. Music drifted from the ballroom, and servants moved through the entrance hall carrying trays of wine and refreshments.
The guests included neighboring landowners, officers recently returned from the continent, country gentlemen, their wives, and the unmarried daughters whose mothers had spent the preceding weeks discussing Miss Langley's suitability.
Many had heard rumors.
That she was difficult.
That she possessed an unfortunate temper.
That she had appeared in the duke's house wearing servant's clothing.
Some accounts suggested that she had actually been employed as a maid before inheriting her fortune.
Others maintained that she had quarreled with the housekeeper and attempted to dismiss half the staff.
By the time Clara descended the staircase, she had apparently become a woman of such extraordinary behavior that no respectable household ought to receive her.
She knew none of this.
Or rather, she knew enough to suspect that something unpleasant awaited her.
She wore a gown of deep blue silk, trimmed with delicate silver embroidery. Her hair had been arranged with pearl combs, and a modest sapphire pendant rested against her throat.
She was not the most extravagantly dressed woman in the room.
But she moved with quiet confidence, her chin lifted, her expression calm.
Julian waited at the bottom of the stairs.
When he saw her, he forgot what he intended to say.
Clara stopped on the final step.
“Your Grace?”
He recovered.
“You look very well.”
Her lips curved.
“How fortunate. I had feared you might prefer the apron.”
Julian offered his hand.
“The apron was certainly memorable.”
“Then I shall wear it to the next assembly.”
“I beg you not to.”
“Are you afraid I might cause a scandal?”
“I am beginning to suspect you could cause one while sitting perfectly still.”
She laughed.
He offered his arm.
“Shall we?”
Together, they entered the ballroom.
The effect was immediate.
Conversations faltered.
Heads turned.
Lady Honoria, standing beside the musicians, looked visibly relieved.
Sir Edmund Cross watched from the far end of the room.
Beside him stood Silas Vane.
Neither smiled.
Julian guided Clara toward the receiving line.
He introduced her to the neighboring families with flawless courtesy.
He listened when she spoke.
He did not interrupt.
And when an elderly baronet made an unkind remark concerning her interest in village education, Julian answered before Clara could.
“Miss Langley's work has proved invaluable to the estate.”
The baronet blinked.
“Indeed?”
“Very much so.”
Clara glanced at him.
Julian continued.
“I have discovered that a gentleman who neglects to listen to intelligent advice is liable to make a remarkable number of expensive mistakes.”
The baronet laughed uncertainly.
Clara lowered her eyes, but not before Julian saw the warmth in them.
For a while, the evening proceeded pleasantly.
Then Lady Cecilia Thorne approached.
She was a beautiful widow of thirty, elegantly dressed, with pale blond hair and the confident manners of a woman who had spent a decade navigating London society.
“Your Grace,” she said, offering Julian her hand. “How delightful to see you looking almost cheerful.”
Julian bowed.
“Lady Cecilia.”
“And this must be Miss Langley.”
Clara curtsied.
“My lady.”
Lady Cecilia examined her.
Then smiled.