19d • General discussion
My Rake's Progress
A Regency Romance - please read if you have time - I'm now on Chapter 25, and I have turned them into a StoryPods podcast justvtonpush myself to stop procrastinating and get myself heard.
Constructive feedback would be appreciated! Thank you in advanced
Prologue
April, London, 1809
The Chesterton's Soirée
“Well, Horatia, my dear, let's finish your toilette, as you need to make an impression tonight. There will be several eligible gentlemen in attendance this evening. Lady Chesterton's soirée is always a popular event.” Chirped Lady Hazel Stanwycke, as she fussed around her eldest daughter, who now was staring in horror at the sickly pink evening dress that her mother's maid, Peggy, now held.
“Mama, you're not serious that I wear this …. this sickly flounced gown. I will look like a fancy wrapped confection from Fortnum & Mason's!”
“Darling, you will look glorious. Your father will be proud of how beautiful you will look. It includes everything that is fashionable.”
“Maybe, but all in the same gown?” Horatia frowned, as if she had her way it would not have all the additional flounces, ribbons and feathers that had now been added to the beautiful simply elegant gown that she had last tried on at the modeste's. “All of this was not on this gown when it was last fitted!”
“No, I asked Madame Crystelle to add them. The latest fashion, my dear.”
With Horatia still frowning, in fact more of a scowl, her mother helped her into the awful gown. She looked in the mirror at the hideous sight.
“I’m going to be laughed at, the laughing stock!”
“No, the other young ladies will be jealous, Horatia, just you mark my words.” Horatia was not convinced.
“Could I not just wear the ice-blue gown? That's so pretty.”
“Definitely not, Horatia, you cannot be seen in the same gown twice in a row. Be sensible, this gown will get you noticed.” Horatia could not agree more, yes, noticed for all the wrong reasons!
She was soon dressed and coiffeured, and descending the stairs down to her awaiting father. Her father’s eyes flickered a startled look, which he quickly hid, and broke into a radiant smile.
“Well, you look, ah, vibrant!” The words said through the smile plastered on his face, as Horatia reached him, placing a kiss on his cheek, and whispered.
“No, I look like a fright, not my idea!” He took her shoulders and held her at arm's length.
“Mmm! Well, you'll get noticed.”
“Not if I hide.”
Heston, the stern-faced butler waiting with her evening cloak, his brown eyes flicked in her direction, keeping his face fixed in the same stoic expression, but the shocked expression in his eyes told Horatia everything she needed to know. “I know, Heston, I know!” she said out of earshot.
The carriage ride was of short duration, and they were soon disembarked and mounted on the steps of the Lady Chesterton’s residence, along with several other groups of guests, a few whom she recognised. When a footman came to retrieve her cloak she really didn't want him to take it, but her mother ensured it was removed.
“What is wrong with you, Horatia, you cannot remain in a cloak all evening, you need to be seen.” Lady Stanwycke chastised, with her father flicking Horatia a sympathetic glance. All evening Horatia saw the expressions in people's eyes as they saw her for the first time, then she could not help but hear the sniggers and comments once she'd passed. She had never been so humiliated, especially as her now very reddened cheeks clashed horrendously with the sickly pink of the gown.
Over the sea of heads she spied her friends, Miss Melissa Thorne and Miss Nora Sanders, both from her home town. She gave a little wave, their eyes met and she made her way over to them. Their eyes widened when they saw her emerging from the crowd.
“Oh dear, Horatia!” Gasped Melissa. “What an er, elaborate gown!”
“Yes, say no more. I feel totally humiliated. Mama’s choice, not mine, but by tomorrow all the additions to a beautifully simple gown that's underneath will be removed.”
“So, there is something quite lovely underneath, Horatia?” Nora asked, disbelievingly.
“Yes. The original gown that I agreed to!”
“Mmm? What a shame Lady Stanwycke decided upon the additions. The feather over the shoulder would have been enough to keep the elegance, but all those ribbons, lace and flounces. What was she thinking?”
“It's fashion, apparently. A la mode! Plus, to be seen!” They all burst out laughing. “If I don’t laugh, I'll cry!” Nora put her arm around her shoulder.
“It's only one night, just hide behind this palm.”
So, Horatia spent most of the evening hiding by the large potted palm to the side of the ballroom, avoiding making eye contact with anyone, even people she knew. Her two friends remained loyally by her side most of the evening unless their hand was requested in a dance, but every gentleman who was introduced to Horatia or even those she knew avoided her, no one requested a dance, in fact, no one could look her directly in the eye. Her mother came bustling over in a rustle of dark blue satin.
“Horatia, stop hiding behind that plant, you'll never be seen hiding there.” ‘That's the whole point!’ she thought. Her mother clasped her elbow, dragging her over to the side of the ballroom, as the dancing continued.
Then she saw him. So very tall, his head above all of the other young gentlemen who surrounded him. He was so very handsome, his dark hair just a bit too long, in tousled waves, as if he had just risen from his bed. At that thought her stomach tingled, spreading warmth downwards. He winked as their eyes met, then he held up his glass in salute, then his eyes widened in surprise, or was it shock, as his eyes took in her gown, and Horatia looked away, suffused with embarrassment. She now felt so very hot she could have jumped in the nearest stretch of water, then realised the mucky Thames was the closest, and pushed that idea away instantly. She glanced back in his direction, the group of gentlemen were all now heads bent in discussion and a ripple of laughter emanated from the group. He glanced in her direction again, almost as if he was checking to see if she was still there. The group broke up, and she could see that he was weaving his way through the crowd around the ballroom. In panic, Horatia noticed he seemed to be heading in her direction, as he kept glancing her way. She looked behind and around her to see if there was a beautiful young lady in the vicinity, but she seemed to be the only young lady there, which was mainly made up of matrons. She swallowed deeply at the thought. Then her mother squeezed, well almost pinched, her elbow.
“Smile, girl. Lord Templeton is making his way to your side for an introduction. Straighten up, shoulders back, chest out, chin up, smile.” Her mother advised. Then he was there, standing before her. She had to look up to him. Oh my, she'd forgotten how tall he was, and he was even more devastatingly handsome up close, she thought. His shimmering sapphire eyes crinkled in amusement as he smiled. She swallowed the lump in her throat, she could hardly breath. He turned to her mother.
“Lady Stanwycke, would you be so kind as to introduce me to this beautiful young lady.”
“Why of course, Lord Templeton. This is my daughter, Miss Horatia Stanwycke, Horatia, this is Lord Matthis Templeton, the Marquis of Bembridge.”
“Miss Stanwycke, delightful. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance." He bowed, looking into her eyes, his, now a smoulderingly sapphire colour with unfathomable depths. As he took her hand, a sharp tingling sensation travelled up her arm and flashed out to her whole body, he kissed her knuckles, making her gasp and blush even more.
“An honour, your Grace.” She rasped breathlessly, as she curtsied demurely, at just the right depth befitting his rank, as her mother had taught her, with a tremulous smile touching her lips.
“Would you honour me with the next dance, Miss Stanwycke. A waltz, I believe.” He asked suavely, his deep voice making her tingle again, as it vibrated her nerve endings.
“I .. er!” She looked over to her mother seeking approval, who gave her a quick nod in response. “I would be delighted, your Grace.”
“Perfect.” Offering her his arm to rest her gloved hand upon, he waited to gain the floor, her hand trembled from the contact as she felt his heat, it radiated through her, he turned his head and looked into her eyes. ‘Did only she feel it?’, she wondered. He guided her to the centre of the ballroom, Horatia could hear the ripple of voices travelling around the crowded perimeter as they noticed her gown, and the fact that Temple had chosen to dance with her, a Slow Waltz too!
The music started, they performed the perfunctory courtesies, he then stepped closer, placing his hand low on her back and took her other hand in his grasp. That instantly sent a sharp tingle coursing through her. ‘There it was again. Was it just her who felt it?’ She looked up and he looked down at her with a strange frown briefly touching his brow, which he quickly relaxed. His sandalwood cologne mixed with his shaving soap and natural musky masculine scent surrounded her senses, she breathed it in, it was heady, hypnotic, and absolutely wonderful. He looked down at her again, his sapphire eyes darkening intensely. “Ready?” He asked in a deep gravelly voice, that seemed to caress her all over. She nodded, staring into the depths of his eyes, then they started moving into the dance. The Waltz was still a little risque but it felt glorious. She had danced a few country dances, reels and the Quadrille, but never the Waltz, never in a London ballroom, in fact, never in any ballroom, and with such an accomplished dancer too. He was elegant as he moved, so in control too, pulling her close, her thighs rubbing the silk of her gown against his. Horatia just felt as if she floated, as they whirled, she started to smile, and it was so radiant that he almost had to blink to shield his eyes. “That's better. You looked like you were about to mount the gallows.” She chuckled.
“That's how I have felt all evening.”
“Why is that?”
“You cannot have neglected to notice this hideous monstrosity of a gown, surely?”
“Well, I must say it would not be easily missed. Unusual taste, I must say.”
“My mother's choice, not mine. I would never have chosen to look like a confection from Gunter’s or Parmentier's!” She shuddered, he laughed.
“I see! I must say it is definitely, er.. unique!”
“That's an understatement. It's horrendous! I know it! You know it! Everyone else knows it too! I feel so embarrassed.”
“Well, there is one thing I’d take away from tonight.”
“And, pray, what is that?”
“That you are a brave, pretty chit, Miss Stanwycke, and one thing for you to take away is that you must never let anyone else decide what you wear in the future. Be yourself.”
“I will. I am determined that by tomorrow this gown will look how I chose it, without the embellishments.” He gave her such a winning smile that she smiled back as her heart flipped and then melted. The music started to draw to a close, indicating the end of their dance. He bowed to her curtsy, escorting her back to her mother.
“Thank you, Miss Stanwycke. A most pleasant Waltz. Until the next time.” He bowed over her hand, winked and kissed her knuckles, she shivered. He bowed to her mother and left to join his friends. She noted that as he arrived back to the group they all laughed, glanced her way, then lots of back slapping and handshaking took place.
“Well, that was unexpected, Horatia, I told you you’d get noticed in that gown, and Lord Templeton, too, now that is a coo!”
“He was probably only being polite. He does know my brothers.”
“But he rarely dances at these events, dear, so it should lead to you now being accepted and will be having many more partners.” Horatia had her own thoughts on this outcome, but kept them to herself. Let her mother live in her own delusions.
Later that evening is when she heard it, her little triumphant enjoyment shattered. It had been a bet! His friends had bet that Temple would not dance the Slow Waltz with Horatia Stanwycke or the ‘Pink Peahen’, the pseudonym they had given her, the opposite to the masculine peacock! He’d won, of course, he had no shame. Hence all the laughs and handshakes when he returned to his group of friends had been congratulations. Horatia was not only upset, she was now extremely angry, being used in that way. As an amusement.
She would never ever forgive him!
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