Free Elizabeth Kidd by My Lady Mischief

was not long before the knocker sounded again, and Carey was announced. He glanced briefly around the room, said, “Ah—Kedrington’s not down yet, I see,” and announced that he would go up to fetch his brother-in-law.
    He bounded up the stairs, and Antonia sank into a chair, prepared to be regaled with more chatter from Hester.
    The arrival of Cloris and Edmund Beaumont, however, provided Hester with a companion even more voluble than she, and the two ladies exchanged gossip while Antonia took Edmund aside to enquire how he did.
    Cloris Beaumont, née Beecham, had been a schoolmate of Isabel Fairfax during the year they had spent together at a Bath seminary for young ladies, and she had been the first friend the Fairfax ladies found when they came to London for Isabel’s season three years before. A vivacious redhead with green eyes and a sunny disposition, she had declared her intention at that time of marrying for money, and no one was surprised when she did so. It was a cause of much more bemused speculation that she actually loved her husband, a handsome but scarcely dashing gentlemen some twenty years her senior. That he adored her remained apparent, not so much from his demeanor toward her as from Clory’s constant references to “the Beau,” as she called him, always with a slight blush and a proprietary tone.
    But while Cloris was an old friend, Edmund was still a relatively unknown quantity, and Antonia was glad for a few words with him before the rest of their guests arrived.
    “How are you this evening, Edmund? I trust the weather has not become too sultry for you.”
    “Not at all. But then, I am used to the Indian climate. Cloris is eager to leave town, however, and I have engaged a house for the summer in Worthing.”
    “Not Brighton?” Antonia teased.
    He smiled, acknowledging the unmodishness of Worthing. “You would be surprised to know that it was Cloris’s choice. She claims to be bored with Brighton and says there is nothing new to do there.”
    “Does she, indeed!”
    “Well, we shall see how long she is diverted by Worthing. I have also engaged rooms in the largest hotel on the Steyne in Brighton for a fortnight in August—as a precaution, you understand.”
    “And what about you? Do you have a preference?”
    “My preference is for a happy wife.”
    Antonia laughed. “How very obliging a husband you are—I trust Clory is properly appreciative.”
    “I believe she is,” he said, and Antonia realized that she still did not know him well enough to know if he was being wry, smug, or sure enough of the truth of his statement that he felt no need to embellish it.
    Lady Sefton and her son, Lord Molyneaux, were announced then, and Antonia hastened to greet them. Lady Sefton was one of the patronesses of Almack’s and—more important in Antonia’s eyes—she had been kind to a very shy Isabel in her first season. She hoped Maria would be so obliging as to take Elena under her wing as well, even if only to reassure her that she would be accepted on her own merits by her particular circle. Elena knew well enough that her connection with the Kedringtons was considered one of these merits, but why should that matter?
    She kissed Maria Sefton on both cheeks and shook hands with her son.
    “Well, Antonia,” Lady Sefton said. “I hear that your latest protégée is a young lady quite out of the ordinary way. May I meet her?”
    “She has not yet arrived, but do have a glass of sherry with me, and I will tell you all about her!”
    Lady Sefton laughed, said that she supposed Miss Melville was waiting to make a grand entrance, and went along with her hostess to sit in a corner and enjoy a comfortable coze.
    Shortly, the last of their guests, Sir William and Lady Overton, who lived in the house across Brook Street from the Kedringtons, arrived to join the convivial party in the drawing room, and it was nearly time for dinner to be announced before Antonia realized that Miss Melville had not