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  “Perhaps the marquess did give me the nickname,” Hetty agreed, remembering her resolve not to be cowed by her aunt’s disapproval of her. “But I cannot have given him too great a disgust of my company since he has asked me to go for a drive in the park tomorrow afternoon.”

  “No doubt Lord Wakeford hopes you will make more errors in conduct that he can recount to the Beau and his court,” Lady Hardwick replied in asperity.

  “Perhaps,” Hetty acknowledged, “but it will bring me credit to be seen in the park in his company nonetheless.”

  Pleased at the astounded look on her aunt’s face at her unwonted show of spirit, Hetty swept from the salon with dignity and descended to her chamber to seek Daisy’s more congenial company until supper.

  Jules arrived promptly at four in the afternoon to take Miss Biddle for a drive the afternoon following the heiress’s call on his sister. He was shown up to the Great Salon, where he found Lady Hardwick and Miss Hardwick, but Miss Biddle was nowhere in evidence.

  Lady Hardwick welcomed him effusively, and Jules responded with practiced good manners. He was not closely acquainted with the Hardwicks and had no desire to be. Despite Lady Hardwick’s undeniably good blood, he considered them pushy social climbers. He also remembered his sister’s opinion that Lady Hardwick was sponsoring Miss Biddle in hopes that her niece’s fortune would gain her daughter the entree to a higher level of Society, and felt a flash of pity for Miss Biddle.

  When Lady Hardwick seemed inclined to have him stay and talk, he smiled charmingly and protested that while he should like to partake of some refreshment, he could not leave his horses standing and would she please send for Miss Biddle.

  “It is such a fine afternoon I have driven my phaeton,” Jules added. “I trust you will not object to Miss Biddle coming without her maid, since my tiger rides behind?”

  Lady Hardwick reluctantly agreed to her visitor’s request and sent a footman to summon her niece.

  Miss Biddle entered the salon a few minutes later, wearing a beige frock covered with a light pelisse. She looked neat and the clothes were modishly cut, but as they descended to the street where his tiger held the horses Jules wondered fleetingly why such a beautiful girl always wore such unflattering styles. Perhaps she simply had an uneducated taste.

  As he drove toward the park, Jules thought that Miss Biddle seemed a different girl from the one he had seen at the last ball. She appeared more confident, and not particularly overwhelmed to be seen driving with him. Surprised at her indifference, Jules exerted himself to be amusing, but although Miss Biddle smiled and responded appropriately, her manner remained abstracted. Jules began to feel piqued. Here he was, putting himself out to take the chit for a drive and raise her credit, as he had promised his sister, but far from appreciating his condescension, Miss Biddle seemed unaware of the honor she had been given to be seen in his company. He gave up trying to converse, and decided to return her to the Hardwicks’ as soon as he could politely do so.

  As he slowly made his way toward the circular drive in Hyde Park, where all the fashionables paraded in the afternoon, Jules was surprised to hear Miss Biddle suddenly address him.

  “It was you who gave me the nickname, was it not, Lord Wakeford?”

  Jules jerked the reins in his shock at the direct question, and his horses, not used to such treatment, grew skittish. While he calmed his horse he thought how to answer Miss Biddle’s disconcertingly direct question. It was not the thing for her to ask such a question he thought irritatedly, for it put him in an uncomfortable position, and one did not do that to one’s escort. Why had she done so?

  Jules glanced at his companion to gauge her mood and was disconcerted by the steady blue gaze he encountered. He looked away uncomfortably and, changing his mind about joining the crowds in the ring, directed his phaeton to less-traveled roads in the park.

  “Yes, Miss Biddle,” he replied after a lapse of several minutes, “it was I who gave you the sobriquet ‘Half-baked Hetty.’ I assure you, however, that I did not intend that it become generally known. It was only something I said in jest to the Beau in passing conversation.”

  “I thought as much,” Miss Biddle replied quietly. “I have known you found my provincial manners quite diverting ever since the dinner at the Duchess of Grimwold’s.”

  “I ask your pardon if I have inadvertently caused you pain or embarrassment by my words,” Lord Wakeford continued, resenting her for putting him in a spot where he had to apologize, although he rather thought his sister would enjoy his discomfiture if she knew of the conversation.

  “It is of no consequence, Lord Wakeford,” Miss Biddle replied indifferently. “Society already thought it of me. You only put their opinion of me into words. It is better to know how one is thought of than to be in ignorance.”

  Lord Wakeford’s discomfort increased as he recognized the fatalistic tone of one who knows an unpleasant truth and has come to accept it. Clearly his sister had been correct that Miss Biddle’s wealth did not shield her from pain and hurt. Knowing he had been in the wrong to make a young girl fresh from the country into a figure of derision, Jules’s savoir faire deserted him and he turned his vehicle homeward.

  He stopped in front of the Hardwicks’ town house, and his tiger jumped down to hold the horses while Jules helped Miss Biddle down from the phaeton. As he walked with her to the door, Jules spoke impulsively.

  “Miss Biddle, would you accompany me for a walk in St. James’s Park tomorrow afternoon?” At least he had broken through her reserve, he thought as Miss Biddle’s eyes flew open wide at his unexpected invitation.

  “Thank you, Lord Wakeford, but-” She broke off, glancing down the street to where a black open carriage was rounding the corner and proceeding in their direction. “Thank you, Lord Wakeford, I shall be pleased to accompany you,” Miss Biddle said, obviously changing her mind.

  “I shall call for you at four,” Jules said, wondering why the sight of Lord Satre’s approaching carriage had made her change her mind about accompanying him. Perhaps he was the lesser of two evils to the young girl, he thought ironically.

  As Jules drove home, he wondered what had possessed him to issue another invitation to Miss Biddle. She obviously had no desire for his company. Perhaps he simply was not accustomed to being dismissed so cavalierly by young girls. Or perhaps it was guilt over the truth of Miss Biddle’s implicit accusations. Or both.

  The next afternoon, as Hetty walked beside Lord Wakeford through St. James’s Park, Daisy following a few paces behind, she wondered why the marquess seemed to be singling her out for attention. Yesterday a drive in Hyde Park, today a walk in St. James’s. Perhaps, she thought, he felt remorse for labeling her “Half-baked Hetty” and was trying to make amends by being seen in her company. Or perhaps it was Lady Emily Wakeford’s influence. Whichever, it had saved her from a drive with Lord Satre. She had feared when she saw his carriage coming up the street the previous afternoon that he might be calling to ask her for a drive, and so it had proved. She had seen that her aunt was not best pleased when she had begged a prior engagement, but Lady Hardwick had been unable to object.

  If only it were Lord Courtney walking by her side in the park, she thought wistfully. She had not seen him since the night of the Rutherford’s ball, and she would not see him this night, either, since it was Wednesday and she would remain at home while her aunt and Sophie attended the assembly at Almack’s. Perhaps she would see him the following night, at the opera.

  “Miss Biddle,” her escort’s voice penetrated her thoughts. Hetty started guiltily and looked up at Lord Wakeford. “Please forgive me, Lord Wakeford, I was woolgathering,” she apologized.

  “I merely said we should be changing direction,” he said, indicating another path. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Wondering what it could be, Hetty turned obligingly. Despite wishing for a different escort, Hetty found herself enjoying St. James’s Park. It had beautiful beds of flowers, grass, trees, water—more t
han Hyde Park did —and was far less crowded. She relaxed, succumbing to the beauty of the park and the afternoon. She could almost fool herself into believing she was in the country.

  “Why, there are even cows here,” she exclaimed suddenly, correctly identifying large shapes in the distance.

  “Yes, that is my surprise,” Lord Wakeford said. “Come,” he commanded, leading her toward the faint figures. “Here in St. James’s Park one can buy fresh milk and drink it on the spot,” he explained. “I thought you would enjoy some.”

  “I see,” Hetty said, stopping and turning to face Lord Wakeford angrily, her previous enjoyment vanishing. “You decided that a rustic such as myself must long for milk directly from the cow,” she accused.

  Lord Wakeford’s expression changed from one of merriment to one of chagrin. “I assure you, I had intended no insult, Miss Biddle. An appreciation of fresh milk is not confined to persons from the country. Many Londoners come to St. James for a pleasurable outing in surroundings that are more salubrious than the London streets. If I was mistaken in thinking you would enjoy it, too, I beg your pardon.”

  Hetty felt abashed. She was being far too thin-skinned. Lord Wakeford had planned what he felt would be an enjoyable outing, and her behavior was downright churlish.

  “Forgive me, Lord Wakeford,” she said, placing her hand on his arm in entreaty. “I fear I am being oversensitive. I have, in fact, missed the fresh milk I used to drink in Derbyshire. I have found that by the time the milk is carried through the streets of London and arrives at my aunt’s home that it often tastes as though it is on the verge of turning.”

  Lord Wakeford smiled his acceptance of her apology. “I am the one who should apologize, Miss Biddle. I earned your skepticism of my motives by my previous behavior. Come, let us cry friends and enjoy our afternoon.”

  As she and Daisy savored cups of frothy warm milk, Hetty found that she was actually enjoying Lord Wakeford’s company now that he had dropped his supercilious manner. She smiled her appreciation at Lord Wakeford, unaware of the charming picture she presented with a snowy film of milk froth upon her lips.

  After they drank their fill of the milk, they walked about the park admiring the many flowers in bloom, and Hetty found she was almost in charity with Lord Wakeford by the time they returned to the Hardwicks’ town house.

  “I trust I shall see you at Almack’s this evening, Miss Biddle,” Lord Wakeford commented as he accompanied Hetty to the door. “Might I ask that you reserve the first dance for me?”

  Hetty looked at him in surprise. “I am sorry, Lord Wakeford, but I shall not be at Almack’s this evening. I do not have vouchers, although my aunt and cousin will be in attendance.”

  “You are not missing a thing by not attending the assemblies at Almack’s, Miss Biddle,” Lord Wakeford said kindly. “I promise you they are very overrated. My sister rarely attends, and I may not myself.”

  “I shall be attending the opera at the theater in Covent Garden Thursday night,” Hetty surprised herself by offering.

  “Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there,” Lord Wakeford promised, bowing and taking his leave as Hetty and Daisy entered the house.

  As Lord Wakeford drove away, Hetty wondered what had possessed her to volunteer that she would be at the opera the next night. It was Lord Courtney she wished to see there, not Lord Wakeford. Still, it would do no harm for Lord Courtney to see that other eligible gentleman sought her company.

  Thursday evening Hetty prepared herself for her first appearance at the opera with great care, choosing one of the more attractive gowns Lady Hardwick had selected for her, a chemise dress of apricot muslin. While the color did little for her, the soft style was flattering to her slight figure, and her carnelians looked well with the gown. Lady Hardwick surprised her by sending her own dresser to inspect Hetty’s toilette. After looking the young woman over critically, the dresser left, to return shortly with two ostrich feathers and a bandeau for Hetty’s hair. Evidently Lady Hardwick wished her entire party, niece included, to look their best for their first appearance at the opera.

  When they arrived at the Royal Opera House, Hetty forgot all her problems in her awe at her surroundings. Ignoring Sophie’s jabbing elbow of warning, Hetty stared in fascination at the opulently painted ceiling, illuminated by the immense chandeliers with their hundreds of candles, and admired the red, gold, and white decorated theater.

  Lady Hardwick’s box was in the second tier on the right side, which awarded them a view of most of the theater. Hetty took the seat her aunt indicated and proceeded to look about as much as she pleased, not caring if her aunt and cousin found her interest provincial. In the boxes directly across she could see women clad in glistening silks and satin with magnificent jewels glittering at their throats and in their hair. The men were all in full evening dress—dark coats, silk breeches and stockings, carrying folded chapeau bras under their arms. She noticed the pit below the was very noisy, populated with rowdy young bucks who openly ogled the women and occasionally shouted compliments or impolite comments.

  But when the performance finally began, Hetty forgot the other opera-goers in her captivation with the story and music. This was what she had dreamed London would be like. She forgot all her disappointment in the Season, her troubles with her aunt and cousin, even her nickname, and became lost in the opera until the first intermission brought her back down to earth. Stagehands began shifting the scenery around on the stage, and the patrons stood up and moved about, going to other boxes to visit with friends.

  Lord Lockwood and Lord Satre were the first to arrive at the Hardwicks’ box. Lord Lockwood devoted himself to Sophie, leaving Lord Satre to Lady Hardwick and Hetty. Hetty’s delight with the evening began to dissipate as the uncomfortable feeling she always had around Lord Satre returned. However, it was only a few minutes before Lord Wakeford appeared at their box, and when Lord Courtney appeared soon afterward, she was in alt. Hetty saw her aunt stiffen slightly at Lord Courtney’s arrival, and the viscount gave Hetty a conspiratorial look that seemed to say, I know what your aunt thinks of me, but see how she has to receive me anyway.

  Somehow, the two younger gentlemen managed to sit beside Hetty, leaving Lord Satre to Lady Hardwick, and Hetty’s uncomfortable feeling vanished. She began to feel quite relaxed, and her natural gaiety, which had been so little in evidence since she had come to London, returned.

  “Are you finding your first visit to the opera enjoyable?” Lord Courtney inquired of her.

  “Oh, I like it above all things,” Hetty enthused. “It is so exciting and colorful and Mrs. Billington’s voice is marvelously fine.”

  Lord Wakeford, who had been watching Miss Biddle’s animated attitude with pleasure and surprise, smiled and teased her gently.

  “I agree that Elizabeth Billington’s voice is exceptional, but it is not at all the thing to display such enthusiasm for the performance, Miss Biddle. One is expected to be more interested in the presence and attire of the other patrons than in the opera itself.”

  Hetty was not certain whether Lord Wakeford was teasing or criticizing her, but found she did not care.

  “Oh, I am interested in them, too,” she said airily. “The women are so beautifully attired and wear so many jewels. Especially the ones in the center boxes,” she finished, waving her fan in their general direction.

  There was a sudden silence in the box at her words and Hetty glanced quickly at her aunt and cousin. Seeing that Sophie looked startled and that Lady Hardwick hastily asked Lord Satre a question about the performance, Hetty knew she had made another mistake, although she had no idea what it could have been. She looked enquiringly at Lord Courtney.

  The viscount leaned toward her and spoke softly. “The women in the center boxes are of the demimonde, Miss Biddle. You are not supposed to be aware of their existence, much less speak of them or point them out. Ladies of rank sit in the side boxes, those of gentle birth but less wealth in the side galleries.”

/>   So that was it. Such a fuss over nothing, Hetty thought. “I think it should be the other way around,” she stated daringly. “They have the much better seats. It is difficult to see the stage properly from the side.”

  “So it is,” Lord Wakeford agreed while Lord Courtney laughed aloud.

  Hetty found it was quite something else to have someone laugh with one rather than at one, and felt she had comported herself well, turning a faux pas into an opportunity to express her wit.

  The stagehands finished moving the props about on the stage, and knowing the second act would begin shortly, the visitors took their leave from the Hardwicks. Hetty settled in to watch the rest of the opera and once again became lost in the performance.

  Late that night when she slipped between the sheets of her bed, Hetty reflected that the evening had been quite the most pleasant one she had spent since her arrival in London. Her Season had truly changed for the better since her resolve to be herself and not apologize for who she was.

  Chapter Seven

  After the opera Hetty realized that her attitude toward her aunt and cousin had truly undergone a substantial change. When she had first arrived in London she had been happy to see her relatives and had looked forward to being friends with Sophie. Soon, however, she had sensed that Sophie and her aunt did not care for her company, and a distance had manifested itself between them. The social errors she had made deepened the gulf. At first Hetty had felt shame that her behavior had caused Sophie and Lady Hardwick embarrassment, and she had tried her best to correct her mistakes and behave in a socially correct manner. But no matter how she tried they continued to find fault and now she was beginning to feel resentment toward her aunt and cousin no matter how hard she tried to stifle it. Letters from her mother and father had fueled this feeling, for Hetty deduced from the correspondence that it was her father’s money that was paying for most of the expenses for the Season — for her aunt and cousin as well as for herself.