Belle of the ball Read Free Page A

and hoped to see me at the Parkhust ball tomorrow night"
    "That is all right then. I told you all would be well!" Arabella just wasn't sure. If the Snowdales had heard of the Conroy debacle, then others had, too. And the Snowdales might realize later that she was covering for them in the store that day to make up to them, not just out of class loyalty, which everyone of the ton understood.
    It was the one part she felt a little uneasy about. She did not regret doing what she could to repair her reputation in front of the two aristocrats, for she had clearly handled it the only way she could, even though they had cut her. But she could not look back on her treatment of the large gentleman with any degree of composure, though she did not tell her mother that. Lady

    Swinley wouldn't understand why she felt badly about snubbing the good-looking stranger to gain points with the noble couple.
    But she did feel a little uneasy. It was kindly meant, defending her, and then purchasing her gloves. But could he not see that it just was not done? Where had he been that he could think that acceptable in anyone's eyes? She had enough trouble without adding fast to her list of faults in tonnish eyes. She had been hoping that no one had heard of the terrible outcome of their visit to the Farmingtons', but Lady Farmington had no doubt spread it among all her friends, luckily a small group. Arabella's only hope was that she had made up enough ground with the Snowdales that they would deny the charge against her in public if it should ever come up again. And that would only work as long as the Farmingtons were not in London.
    If only her cousin True, now Lady Drake, had been able to sponsor her in London this Season, as she had offered. But Drake—overprotective, Arabella thought—^would not hear of his pregnant wife suffering the fetid air of London in her "delicate" condition, and so she was staying in the country at Thorne House, their home near the Leathornes, his parents. The most he would do was convince his parents to let Lady Swinley and Arabella borrow their elegant Mayfair home for the Season, rent free. It was a valuable boon indeed, but it still would not pay for a new wardrobe and all the other things they needed to present a good front and make Arabella seem a worthy wife for a wealthy man.
    She stiffened her back and looked down at her mother, who was lost again in her perusal of the book of dress patterns she had brought in. It was up to her this Season to rescue herself and her mother from penury. Maybe she did not owe her mother any allegiance.

    After all, the woman had abandoned her throughout most of her childhood, leaving her at the vicarage, Truelove's family home until her marriage to Drake.
    But Lady Swinley needed her daughter now, and Arabella would be there for her. Maybe then her mother would be proud of her. She turned and left the room without a word.

    Two
    Arabella smoothed ice blue gloves up over her elbows, checking for tears and wear spots as she did so— after all, they were last year's—as she distractedly listened to her mother, who paced behind her while Annie fussed with her hair.
    "Now, I have been visiting everyone I know these last two days, and I must say I don't think anyone has heard about. . . about the Conroy affair." Seldom did she refer to that embarrassing time, but when she did, it was as "the Conroy affair." She still did not regret her actions, although the outcome had mortified her. "With a little luck we should be able to manage as long as Lady Farmington or Lord Conroy do not come to London for the Season. I have heard that Lady Farmington has come down with some indisposition; we can only hope it is a lasting one."
    "Or fatal," Arabella said, grimly.
    Ignoring her daughter as she usually did, Lady Swinley said, "I have made a list of the eligible men who are rumored to be looking for a wife this Season."
    A list of men; a list of potential husbands, rather. And not one of them would