at last.
“There must be a way. She doesn’t deserve to be the
butt of Brantley’s scheme. She’s quite the unwilling
pawn in all of this. None of it’s her fault. She’s merely
been singled out because she’s different and because
of me”
“It’s happened before,” Audrey said quietly from
the settee.
“What’s happened before?” Alasdair stopped pacing in front of the fire place mantel.
“Marianne has been singled out before, in New York,
the winter we were there. It wasn’t pleasant but she survived. She’s here, after all. Then, too, it wasn’t her
fault.” Audrey tapped her chin with her finger. “Lionel
is right-we can’t protect her. But we can make sure
she succeeds. It will be the campaign of the Season.
We’ll start tonight.”
The Radcliffe Musicale had the unique distinction
of being a musical evening that actually produced quality musical talent compared to several other such evenings that showcased the mediocre talents of this year’s
crop of debutantes. Over the years, it had become the
unstated norm that only the best musicians among them
would volunteer their talents for the Radcliffe Musicale. Those with lesser skills were expected to hold
themselves in check that evening and become part of
the audience.
To reinforce the high standards of the night, the
Radcliffe home on Curzon Street was turned out in all
its glory. The chandelier in the main foyer cast brilliant light up the grand staircase to the ballroom that
had been partitioned into a slightly smaller venue for the evening. Inside the ballroom, potted plants and
gilt screens had been set up to minimize the enormity
of the room, as the event had outgrown the music
room in which it had been originally hosted. Chairs
were set up in neat rows around a temporary stage
that had been erected for the evening. The piano had
been moved from the music room to the impromptu
dais and other instruments were propped up along the
edge.
It was very impressive to behold, Marianne thought,
as she walked through the door with her parents, her
father having just arrived back from a quick trip to
Cherbourg. They had been invited to the event by
Camberly himself, but since the earl’s wife was playing the piano that evening and had to be present earlier, the Addisons arrived on their own.
Marianne and her mother greeted a few of the people
to whom they’d been introduced over the past weeks
but the larger span of Marianne’s attention was spent
searching the room with her eyes for a sign of Alasdair.
She had not encountered him yet today at any of the
places she’d gone. It was the first time in several days
she had not seen or heard from him in some way, and
the day seemed incomplete, unbalanced in some indistinguishable way without him.
She was aware of how odd such a realization was.
She’d only known Alasdair for a few weeks. Yet in that
time she’d become accustomed to his presence. If she’d been asked who she’d acquired as a friend during her
time in London, she would have said him.
Mrs. Farnwick and her daughter, Roberta, stopped to
say hello. Roberta smiled knowingly, catching Marianne’s distraction. She linked her arm through Marianne’s and drew her aside. “The viscount will be here,
don’t worry. He’ll want to hear the countess play the
piano.”
Marianne cast her eyes downward. She’d best be
careful not to give herself away so completely. It wasn’t
proper for a girl to seek out the attentions of a gentleman even if he was just a friend. In America, it had
been far more common for young men and women to
mix socially than it was here. She’d gone on any number of picnics with other young people of her social
station in San Francisco. But here, Marianne had been
surprised to learn just how cloistered girls were until
they came of age.
“Would you care to stroll with me around the room,
Miss Addison?” Roberta asked. “We can walk past the
refreshment
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