“If ever there was going to be a captainess,” said Portia unrepentantly, “it would be Allegra, Captain L’Amour’s woman.”
The words sent a strange shiver down Allegra’s spine. She even knew Captain L’Amour was balderdash. Perhaps it was the memory of the all-too-real Not-Captain that affected her. He seemed to be a magnet for dramatic encounters. Perhaps he, too, was the sort to sport a captainess on his arm and sail off into adventure.
“Make haste.” Portia tugged on Allegra’s hand. “The doors open in thirty minutes and I mean to be the first person to step inside.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Dorcas. “Who will open the door and welcome you in, if there’s no one inside?”
“‘Person,’” Portia repeated. “Not ‘staff’.”
Allegra’s lips tightened. She knew Portia wasn’t saying anything different than anyone else of her class and higher thought about the world.
There’s no one here! could be said of an “empty” ballroom with dozens of footmen and an entire orchestra setting up.
They did not know what it was like to be part of the “no one.” A maid witnessing yet another altercation between her master and her mistress, a hackney driver rolling his eyes at an assignation unfolding in the seat behind him, the crossing-sweeper keeping the intersections clear for pedestrians to hurry past.
Tonight, Allegra might look like Someone, but it was nothing more than a magic trick. A pretty mirage that would end at midnight or whenever her cousins returned to their chambers and Allegra to her normal life.
“At least we needn’t ring for a carriage,” Portia said. “It’s a lovely evening, and the castle is a short walk from here.”
“It’s just called Castle Inn,” said Dorcas. “It isn’t a real castle.”
“It is tonight.” Portia linked arms with Allegra. “Prince Charming awaits.”
A shadow darkened their path before they could exit the apartment.
Uncle Townsend glowered at them fearsomely. “What is the meaning of this?”
“We’re going to a ball to look for suitors, Father,” Portia answered. “As you instructed us to.”
“I did not instruct Allegra to do any such thing.”
“You instructed her to chaperone us,” Dorcas said. “How can she do so unless she comes with us?”
“Dressed like that?” Uncle sputtered. “I did not approve the purchase of a new garment. I did not give her any coin at all. She looks like…a harlot.”
“It’s my dress,” Portia said.
“And Allegra looks positively cloister-ish compared to what the beau monde will be wearing,” Dorcas added. “You don’t want her turned away at the door and Portia and I left with no chaperone at all, do you?”
“It’s unseemly,” Uncle Townsend said. “It feels like…taking advantage.”
“Funny,” Allegra murmured. “I have long thought the same thing.”
He stomped forward to wave a finger in her face. “Mind your sass and remember your place. You’ve not been my ward since you came of age. I can toss you into the street any time I take the notion.”
“You would not dare to be so cruel!” Portia said hotly.
Uncle Townsend and Allegra locked eyes. They both knew the truth. It was not that Uncle would not dare to do so. It was that ejecting her from the family would be devilish inconvenient. She suspected he longed to be rid of her, but saw no opening until his daughters were both married and out of the house.
She also suspected Uncle Townsend knew that Allegra’s unpaid labor would end the morning of her thirtieth birthday, which was why he was in even more of a hurry to get the marrying-off business done and settled.
“I’ll be out of your hair before you know it,” Allegra said lightly.
Once upon a time, she would not have said any such thing at all. But now with freedom so close, it had become harder and harder to guard her tongue.
“You could have been gone any day these past twelve years, if anyone had ever offered for you,” Uncle Townsend replied without meeting her eyes.
The truth was, Allegra’s eternal spinsterness aided him in more ways than a free nanny-governess-music-instructor-lady’s-maid. Uncle Townsend was executor of the funds Aunt Townsend’s mother had established…and as such, his stipend was an annual percentage.
Allegra had seen the will. Uncle’s fee was lower than what it cost to raise and clothe fashionable daughters. Wedding them as soon as possible made financial sense. On the other hand, Allegra’s benefits outweighed her negligible expense. Uncle Townsend’s stipend would shrink less on Allegra withdrawing her spinster portion than if she brought some buck up to scratch and Uncle was forced to sign away the full dowry.
“You don’t look like a harlot,” Portia whispered. “Father means you look marriageable.”
Exactly his fear.
Allegra eyed her young cousin with speculation. Portia’s understanding of matters might be a great deal more profound than she liked to appear.
“Where will you spend the evening, Father?” Dorcas asked.
“In the card room at the Castle Inn.” Uncle Townsend narrowed his eyes. “Don’t embarrass me.”
Chapter 6
Her well-meaning cousins outfitted Allegra in the most sumptuous confection she’d ever worn in her life. Yet, it was not the grand entrance of an almost-thirty-year-old spinster that caused gentlemen’s heads to swivel.
At ten and eleven years younger, Portia and Dorcas were the prizes to be won. Her cousins’ gowns were positively stunning—Allegra’s had been borrowed from their armory—and the excitement of the night reflected in their youthful faces. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, hair that somehow maintained its perfect ringlets despite a half-mile stroll through a sea salt breeze.
In no time, both young women amassed a list of names of partners eager to accompany them to the dance floor. At this rate, Allegra wouldn’t see Dorcas and Portia again until dawn. Except perhaps in small glimpses, from the distant chairs in the old-maids-and-duennas side of the ballroom. Allegra might not be here tonight strictly as a wallflower companion, but she was still firmly part of “no one.”
They were early enough that no other spinsters or aging aunts occupied any of the chairs, and Allegra had no wish to be the first such creature to cower in the shadows. Not tonight, when she was the prettiest she had ever looked.
If not as enticing as an adolescent debutante. She wondered if it would be incredibly rude to push the pianist from her bench and take her seat instead.
Heroically, Allegra allowed the pianist to continue playing in peace.
Oh, what did it matter if no one glanced her way, despite her opulent gown and the way the blue shimmered all around her? She wasn’t here for love. She wasn’t even here for fortune hunters. She was here to placate her cousins.
Allegra’s time would best be spent concocting an elaborate, but believable excuse for why Captain L’Amour would (in a shocking twist!) fail to put in an appearance tonight. Followed by an equally convincing story to explain the tragically abrupt end to their romance.