Free The Gamble by Joan Wolf Page A

be no waltzing for you, Miss Newbury,” Miss Stanhope informed me patronizingly. “You may not waltz until one of the patronesses of Almack’s approves you, you know.”
    Almack’s was the most exclusive club in London, known colloquially as the marriage mart, and even a country bumpkin such as I knew the importance of attending the balls at Almack’s.
    I asked apprehensively, “What if they do not approve me?”
    “If they do not approve you, then you will not get a voucher for Almack’s, and if you do not get a voucher for Almack’s, you will not be invited to any of the balls that are given by the best people in London,” Miss Stanhope informed me. “In short, you will be relegated to the second-best society.” She looked down her aristocratic nose at me. “It is very difficult to please the patronesses, I am afraid. They do not like young girls who deviate from behavior that is considered socially correct.”
    I knew immediately that she was referring to my lack of mourning for my father.
    “I believe my aunt has already spoken to Lady Jersey and Countess Lieven about getting vouchers for my cousin and my ward,” Lord Winterdale said coolly. “I do not think that they will have a problem being approved for Almack’s.”
    Miss Stanhope could not quite conceal her annoyance, and I could not quite conceal my relief.
    Evidently Lord Winterdale had been correct when he had said that his aunt’s consequence was enormous.
    Then I wondered when he had spoken to Lady Winterdale to ascertain this information. He was certainly never around the house when I was there.
    “Are you enjoying London, Miss Newbury?” Mr. Stanhope asked me.
    I laughed. “Well, all I have seen of it so far is Bond Street, but I must say that I have liked that very much indeed.”
    Miss Stanhope’s cool green eyes took in my worn gray habit. “You did not purchase that habit on Bond Street, I hope?”
    I was beginning to dislike Miss Stanhope exceedingly, but I tried very hard to hold on to my temper. “My new habit was not yet ready, so I am wearing my old one,” I said.
    Lord Winterdale said, “I can assure you, Miss Stanhope, that once Miss Newbury mounts into the saddle, no one will notice what she is wearing.” He turned to me and smiled. “Miss Newbury has quite the best seat I have ever seen on a woman.”
    For the second time that afternoon, the hardness had melted away from his face, and I saw youth and a hint of sweetness that was inordinately fascinating. Then, as before, it was gone.
    We parted from the Stanhopes a few moment’s later, and though a number of people waved to Lord Winterdale as we trotted back along the path, he did not stop again.

CHAPTER
six
    W HEN I AWOKE THE MORNING OF THE BALL , IT WAS raining. This was depressing as I knew that Lady Winterdale would certainly consider the weather a personal affront to her, and when I went down to breakfast I quickly discovered that this was indeed so.
    “The streets become so dirty in London when it rains,” she was complaining to a silent Catherine, as I came into the dining room. Lord Winterdale was, as usual, absent from the breakfast table.
    “Fortunately, no one who will be coming to the ball tonight will have planned to come on foot,” Lady Winterdale went on as she made her way through a plate of ham and cold fowl. “We shall have to make certain that our footmen have plenty of umbrellas to escort our guests safely from their carriages into the house. But there can be no doubt that this rain is a decided nuisance. I am seriously displeased.”
    I took a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee from the sideboard. The dining room was gloomy, lit only by a few candles set on the table and the sideboard. The great crystal chandelier, which provided the light for dinner, was never lit during the day.
    I said, “Perhaps the rain will let up by this evening, ma’am.”
    “I certainly hope that it will,” said Lady Winterdale majestically. “Now, Catherine, I