An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square

Amelia congratulated both the marquis and his wife and received a kiss on the cheek from the young mother, who was not much above Helene’s own age. Helene curtsied and thanked her hostess for the invitation.

‘You are very welcome, Miss Henderson,’ the marquise replied and smiled. ‘Amelia Royston is a friend—any guests she cares to bring are always welcome to me. Perhaps we may talk later.’

Helene inclined her head and moved on, because there was a line of guests waiting to greet and be greeted by their hosts. She had thought there were a lot of guests at the soirée the previous evening, but this was clearly a much grander occasion. There were two large reception rooms, which were overflowing with guests. Footmen circled with trays of champagne and many people were content to linger here. However, Amelia was moving steadily through the crush, Emily, Mrs Henderson and Helene following in her wake. Beyond the two crowded reception rooms was a large, long room, which was where the ball was to be held. Helene could hear music playing and already a few couples had taken to the floor.

She looked about her, entranced by the theme. Yards and yards of some pale pink gauzy material had been draped over the stage where the musicians were grouped. Banks of pink roses and carnations were at the foot of the stage, and arranged tastefully in alcoves to either side.

‘Where on earth did they find so many roses?’ Helene asked of no one in particular and heard a throaty chuckle just behind her. Turning, she found herself staring up at Lord Coleridge. ‘My lord…’ She dipped a curtsy. ‘I was just admiring the flowers. There are such a profusion and it is a little early in the year, would you not agree?’

‘I believe they are all forced in a hothouse,’ Max told her, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Have you remarked that they have little scent? For myself I prefer a natural rose…one that is allowed to blossom in its own good time. Ours at Coleridge House begin to flower from May onwards in the most sheltered spots, and there is one white bush that always gives us a rose at Christmas. When I was a child my father always plucked it for my mother on Christmas Day.’

‘How lovely,’ Helene said. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she gazed up into his dark, slate-grey eyes. There was something so very attractive about him! ‘Tell me, do your roses smell wonderful?’

‘Yes, particularly a dark red one that was my mother’s favourite—and an old pink damask rose that no one knows anything about.’

‘Someone must know something of it, surely?’

‘No, it is true that no one can name it, and no one remembers it being planted. My mother was a great gardener until her health went and she died suddenly when I was young, but even she could not remember having it planted. My head gardener thinks it must have grown from a seedling—but we have no record of it. I have made inquiries, but even the experts cannot put a name to it.’

‘How fascinating. If it is truly a new variety you must name it,’ Helene said. ‘I love gardens and gardening. I had my own at home, but my uncle’s gardener does not wish for help.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘I am sorry that your mama died when you were young. I know what it is to lose a parent too soon.’

‘Yes, your mama is a widow, I believe. We have something in common, Miss Henderson. In Mama’s case, it was very sad because in his grief my father neglected her garden—and a garden gives much pleasure,’ Max told her. ‘I am sorry your uncle’s gardener does not wish for your help, but I am sure you will have your own garden again one day.’

‘Yes, perhaps I shall.’

‘May I ask if you will dance this with me?’ Max asked as they saw couples beginning to take the floor for a country dance. ‘I hope you like to dance, Miss Henderson?’

‘Yes—at least, I have not had much opportunity, though I have been given lessons.’

‘I am sure you will enjoy the pastime now that you have the opportunity,’ Max said and offered her his hand. ‘Shall we, Miss Henderson?’

Helene gave him her hand, smiling up at him. The answering smile in his eyes made her feel instantly at home with him, and she found the steps came easily to her. He was a large man, but she was acutely aware how well he danced, seeming to have a light step and an elegant bearing that some of the other gentlemen did not quite possess.

It was for Helene an enchanted moment—it seemed only a moment before he was returning her to her friends.

‘That was most enjoyable, Miss Henderson,’ Max told her as he bowed. ‘May I ask you to reserve the dance before supper, please?’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Helene said. Her heart did an odd little flip as he wrote his name, nodded his head and walked away. Her mama was looking at her, but before she could make a remark, another gentleman approached and asked her to dance. Since she had already met Mr Peters in Amelia’s company, Helene was in the happy position of being able to accept. He wrote his name in one further space at the end of their dance.

‘Miss Henderson, I hope you have reserved a dance for me?’

Helene turned her head as she heard a familiar voice. ‘Good evening, Mr Bradwell. I have not reserved anything, for I did not know if you were here,’ Helene said. ‘But there are still several spaces.’ She offered him her card and he wrote in two of them.

After that, several young men she had not previously met approached Helene and it was not long before every space on her card was filled. Helene found herself swept from one dance to the next, scarcely finding the time to draw breath. When the supper dance became due, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with pleasure. She had not expected to be this popular at her first dance and felt pleasantly surprised.

‘You are enjoying yourself this evening?’ Max asked as he arrived to claim her for the supper dance. ‘I believe this is a waltz, Miss Henderson. You do not object?’

‘Not at all,’ Helene said. ‘Mama has given me permission to waltz and I have done so twice this evening.’

‘I like it very well,’ he said, placing his gloved hand at the small of her back. ‘But I know some ladies find it very shocking to be held so. It was held to be fast when it was first introduced and I believe some still feel it so.’

His eyes held a gleam of humour as he gazed down at her. Helene wondered if he was trying to provoke her.

‘Yes, I believe it was frowned upon at first,’ she said. ‘I understand that one cannot dance a waltz at Almack’s unless one of the hostesses gives permission. Not that it can signify. I do not suppose that I shall be given vouchers.’

‘Not be given vouchers?’ Max looked at her quizzingly. ‘Why should you not receive vouchers? You seem a respectable young lady to me.’

‘Oh…I hope I am respectable,’ Helene said and gurgled with laughter. ‘But we are not important. Papa had no title and hardly any fortune. He was a gentleman, but if it were not for Miss Royston I dare say I should not have been invited here this evening. I am not certain I shall be approved by society, sir.’

‘Nonsense! You have been seen, Miss Henderson. News of your beauty and good nature will spread. In the next few days you will be invited everywhere—and I am certain you will receive vouchers for Almack’s. You have not lacked for partners this evening, I think?’

‘No, not at all…’ She wondered if she might have more to thank him for than she knew. Had he perhaps sent his friends to ask her to dance? ‘But Almack’s is rather different, I believe?’

‘I assure you that you will receive your invitation, Miss Henderson. It is unthinkable that you should not.’

‘Perhaps…’ Helene held back a sigh. ‘Mama is so grateful for this chance for me.’

‘It would be a pity if someone of your nature were not to grace the drawing rooms of society more often,’ Max said. ‘However, I am certain that I am right. By tomorrow everyone will be wanting to know you.’

‘You are kind,’ Helene said and smiled up at him. ‘I hope you are right—for Mama’s sake as much as my own.’

He nodded and looked thoughtful, but said no more. Helene was glad that there was no need to talk, because she wanted to enjoy the wonderful sensation of being in his arms. She had thought him a good dancer earlier, but waltzing with him was divine. She wished that she might stay like this for the rest of the evening, but that would be most improper. Their dance ended all too soon.

Helene hoped that he might ask her to take supper with him, but he merely bowed to her and her mother, said that he would call soon and then walked away. Watching him, Helene saw him speaking to some ladies that she did not know.

‘I do not believe it would be a good thing for you to dance with Lord Coleridge too often,’ Mrs Henderson said, coming up to her. ‘He is a perfect gentleman, Helene, and well liked—but you must not set your heart on him. He mixes in circles that we shall scarcely enter, my dear.’

‘I am very certain he would not do for me, Mama,’ Helene replied primly, though a little voice at the back of her mind told her that she was not telling the whole truth. She did like Lord Coleridge more than she was prepared to admit, but of course it would not do at all.

As they moved towards the supper room, Emily and Amelia joined them; a sumptuous buffet had been laid out on long tables and waiters were circulating with trays of champagne. Laid out for their delectation were platters of cold meats, chicken, beef, ham, tiny pies and pastries containing both sweet and savoury fillings and a huge variety of relishes, cold peas and soft sweet plums in a syrup.

Helene took a small glass of syllabub and a spoon and followed Amelia and Emily to a table by the window. She glanced back at the buffet table, discovering that an attractive lady, to whom Helene had as yet not been introduced, had detained her mother. Mrs Henderson seemed to be nodding and smiling a great deal, and when she returned to the table she had a slightly dazed expression on her face.

‘Well…’ she said as she put a small plate on the table. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather. I have just been talking to Lady Jersey. She asked me to bring Helene to a picnic in Richmond she is planning for next Thursday—and she has promised to send us vouchers for Almack’s for the whole of the Season. I was most surprised, for I did not expect it.’

‘I am so glad,’ Amelia said and smiled at Helene. ‘I knew all my friends would invite us to their affairs, but vouchers for Almack’s are not within my gift. I thought it might happen, but that was very swift, Marie. The picnic is an honour, because Sally Jersey does not invite every young lady she meets to her more intimate affairs.’

‘Are you sure she promised us vouchers for Almack’s, Mama?’ Helene said. She bit her lip, because the lady her mama had spoken to at the buffet was one of those she had seen Lord Coleridge conversing with before they entered the supper room. She was almost certain that he had urged the lady to invite them to her picnic and to send them vouchers.

‘Yes, quite certain,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘She told me that she wished to meet you, Helene—and I am to take you to her after supper. She said that she hoped we would call and take tea with her when she is at home to visitors.

‘I was quite overcome—I was certainly not expecting anything of the kind,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Is Lady Jersey a particular friend of yours, Amelia? She said that a particular friend had spoken to her about Helene.’

‘I know Sally Jersey quite well,’ Amelia replied. ‘I am not certain she would call me a particular friend. I wonder…’ She shook her head as Mrs Henderson looked at her. ‘It was just a thought. I shall say nothing for the moment. It is not impossible that you were asked because you are staying with me. I have many good friends in society.’

‘Yes, indeed you do,’ Mrs Henderson agreed. ‘Well, Helene, we have been fortunate, my dear. If Lady Jersey should take a fancy to you, you will be welcomed everywhere.’ Helene did not answer. She felt uncomfortable, certain that she knew exactly who had brought about this tiny miracle. However, she did not think that it would be a good idea to mention her suspicion to her mama.

Chapter Three