Winter Is Past

“Charles Covington, at your service,” he said, offering her a black-sleeved arm.

“Thank you.” She made her way with him to the end of the line as the party proceeded to the dining room. Althea realized Simon had only been waiting for her for the dinner to begin. No wonder he had been annoyed. She could only hope the extra time had given the kitchen staff down below a chance to see to any final preparations. Wondering how things would proceed, knowing she could no longer do anything to assist them, she entered the dining room with the feeling that everything was out of her hands now.

Had Daisy remembered to stir the sauces and keep them warm until the proper time? Would Mrs. Coates and the kitchen maids remember the correct order of the courses? Peering around the table, Althea tried to discern whether the hot plates had been lit. The table did look beautiful, she had to admit, as Mr. Covington tucked her into her chair. The plate glistened. The crystal sparkled. Fresh flowers added a touch of color against the white damask cloth and china.

She watched the footmen. Giles stood back, with a nod here and a nod there, directing them in bringing in the first cover. Althea removed her napkin and spread it upon her lap as the footmen ladled out the consommé. Bowing her head, she said a short prayer of thanks. Looking up, she realized that her companion was holding out a covered basket of rolls to her.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking one automatically. The conversation drowned out the other noises while the guests were being served, but once the footmen finished their task, the volume descended as everyone brought his attention to the food before him.

Now was the moment of truth, thought Althea as she took a spoonful of soup. It tasted like absolutely nothing to her. She put down her spoon and glanced around the table trying to discover the reaction in the others. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the soup. She mentally went down the list Mrs. Coates and she had gone over a dozen times, able now to fit names to faces.

Simon sat at the head of the table, his face looking relaxed, she noted with relief, as he spoke to his immediate dinner companions. Althea’s gaze drifted to his right, where she had been forced to usurp Lord Stanton-Lewis’s place for that of the Duke of Belmont, the highest ranking of the dinner guests. Her grace, the duke’s wife, sat on Simon’s left.

On the duke’s right sat Lady Stanton-Lewis. A flash of recognition went through Althea. She now distinctly recognized Lady Stanton-Lewis. Althea had been seventeen and eighteen, respectively, during her two London Seasons. Lady Stanton-Lewis had been only a few years older, recently married and becoming a leader in the fashionable world. The shy, young Althea had envied her wit and beauty in a world where those qualities were highly esteemed.

Despite the duke between them, Lady Stanton-Lewis and Simon seemed to be having a lively discussion at the head of the table. Something Simon said caused Lady Stanton-Lewis to answer in a laughing retort. The duke and duchess joined in the laughter.

Althea had no fear that Lady Stanton-Lewis would recognize her that evening. The last time Althea had appeared in London society was eight years ago. She didn’t remember ever having Lady Stanton-Lewis address a word to her; she doubted Lady Stanton-Lewis had known who Althea was back then, unless someone had pointed out her family connections. The two had been worlds apart then—Althea one of the dozens of young ladies on the Marriage Mart—someone’s ward, at that—while Lady Stanton-Lewis was a seasoned young matron. She had made a respectable if not brilliant marriage to a baron. Althea calculated Lady Stanton-Lewis had been in her mid-twenties then, so she must be just over thirty now.

Althea’s gaze roved down the table. The rest of the guests were untitled, although most of noble lineage: a couple of notorious dandies, a cabinet member and his wife, a few other members of the House of Commons with their wives, a prominent poet and some lesser individuals. Althea sat near the end, between the young Mr. Covington and an older white-whiskered gentleman in uniform. Colonel Ballyworth, she remembered, was his name.

Just as their glances met, she saw his mouth move, but she couldn’t hear his words above the clatter as the footmen began removing the soup bowls and all the dishes and silverware around and under them, whether used or not. She could only smile at him while waiting for the noise to subside again.

A new set of plates was set before the guests and the next cover brought in. Althea looked and saw with satisfaction that the two kinds of fish arrived with their accompanying sauces and vegetables. Thus far, everything was going according to schedule.

“I beg your pardon, Colonel Ballyworth,” she said to the gentleman who had addressed her earlier. “I didn’t hear what you said a moment ago.”

“Quite all right, m’dear.” He took a hearty bite of sole. “I was just inquiring if you weren’t the Marquess of Caulfield’s ward?”

She smiled in surprise. “Yes, I am. Do you know Lord Caulfield?”

“Oh, my, yes. Since we were boys. How is Caulfield? He doesn’t come up to London much anymore, does he?”

“No. He prefers the quiet country life in Hertfordshire.”

Colonel Ballyworth chuckled. “He must have changed a lot since I last saw him. He was one of the leading rakes in his day.”

“He has…mellowed somewhat since then, I believe. Now that he is awaiting the arrival of his first grandchild, he doesn’t like to be away from Pembroke Park.”

“Oh, no, I should think not.” Colonel Ballyworth took a forkful of potatoes before turning to her once again. “And how are you, m’dear? I recall you during your London Season.”

Her eyes widened. “You do?”

He chuckled at her amazement. “Quiet little thing, you were. Didn’t think anyone noticed you, did you.”

“That was quite some time ago. I’m certainly flattered you remember me.”

“Oh, I never forget a face. Can’t always come up with the right name, but never forget a face. Must say you look much prettier now than you did then.”

She blushed. “I—I thank you.”

“Oh, I’m not saying that you weren’t an attractive thing then. Excuse my saying so, but at my age, you earn the right to speak your mind, and I always like a pretty face. You were so pale and timid back then that I guess a body wouldn’t notice you much, sitting at the back of the room. But, my dear, when you walked into the room tonight, I saw more than one gentleman stand at attention.”

She said nothing, but her glance strayed back down the length of the table. Had her employer noticed that she wore something other than her “gray governess garb”? She doubted it, watching his absorption with his immediate dinner companions.

The colonel’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Excuse my asking, but what’s your connection to Aguilar?”

She did not hesitate. “I am nurse—or perhaps I should say governess—” she remembered her correct title “—to his young daughter, Rebecca.”

“Nurse-governess, eh?” He turned back to his plate and took a last bite of fish. “My, that was excellent. Not every cook knows how to prepare sole. I must send her my compliments.”

Althea restrained a smile.

“Nurse-governess, eh?” he repeated. “I heard his little girl was ailing. What a shame.” He shook his head, then took a sip of wine. “So, you were forced to seek employment. Pity you never married. Didn’t Caulfield settle anything on you? Never knew him to be niggardly.”

She shook her head. “My decision to enter my present employment did not have to do with my financial state. Lord Caulfield has always been most generous to me.”

He looked more puzzled than ever. “I can’t understand why some young gent didn’t grab you up then. What’s got into them nowadays? No starch in ’em. It’s all in their shirt points, I guess. Now, in my day—”

Althea laughed out loud. “Colonel Ballyworth, please, I’m sure the fault was not in the young gentlemen who were presented to me. As you pointed out, I was a quiet thing who preferred sitting in the background.”