The Outrageous Debutante. Anne O'Brien
Judith blinked. ‘Well—that is to say … I expect she might …’
‘Yes. So my father has taken a house in Upper Brook Street and we are set to entertain. Your mama is acquainted with mine—and so suggested that you might give me some advice—how to go on here. I know the protocol in Paris and Constantinople. Even Vienna. But I have never lived in London before.’
‘I see.’ Judith didn’t, but she was sure that this fascinating creature would soon explain.
‘And so I thought I should come and see if you are willing—or if you would rather not. I hope that you would tell me what you truly feel. Parents can be so thoughtless and inconsiderate when they compromise their offspring—particularly when that offspring has no inclination for it at all!’
‘Very true.’ Judith found herself returning the smile in astonishment—and total agreement.
‘Perhaps I should have not come here before we were introduced. Perhaps it is not comme il faut?’
Judith found herself sitting on the very edge of her seat. ‘Perhaps not—well, no, it is definitely not the done thing, but I am delighted that you did. I was suffering from such a megrim before you arrived.’
‘I have never suffered from a megrim in my life, but it pleases me that I can restore your spirits.’ Miss Wooton-Devereux laughed gently, showing perfect teeth, her eyes gleaming with amusement. What an odd creature she was, to be sure.
‘Tell me—’ Judith had to satisfy her curiosity and decided that she felt no compunction in asking ‘—why have you not been presented before?’
Thea was perfectly willing to explain. ‘My father, Sir Hector, is in the diplomatic service. He has been Ambassador to the Court of Constantinople of late. And we have travelled extensively so I have never had the opportunity to stay long in London or enjoy a Season. But now he is between posts. He expects to be sent to St Petersburg later in the year, but for the present we are to remain in London.’
The simple explanation was interrupted by Matthews, who brought in a tray bearing a decanter of ratafia, two glasses and a plate of little biscuits. He arranged them on the table beside Judith’s chair and left, but not before directing another disapproving glance in the direction of their guest.
‘I can not think what is wrong with Matthews.’ Judith watched him as he left the room, shoulders rigid.
Thea laughed again, an infectious low chuckle that instantly encouraged Judith to smile in response. ‘I believe that I have the answer. I am the cause of your butler’s disapproval.’
‘Why? What can you have done?’
‘I came unchaperoned. Without my maid. He appears to disapprove.’
‘Yes. I imagine that he would.’
‘But it is only a step,’ Thea explained. ‘Hardly a stroll. Why should I need a maid with me? I am hardly likely to be set on by footpads in Mayfair in broad daylight, I presume.’
‘No. Of course not. But it is most unconventional. It is not considered … seemly for an unmarried lady to venture on the streets unaccompanied.’
‘I do not see—’ She broke off as Judith handed her a glass of ratafia. She sipped it reluctantly, but with a practised pretence at enjoyment.
‘It would not be good for you to be seen as fast,’ Judith explained after taking a sip from her own glass, ‘if you are to be accepted by the haut ton. You are not in Constantinople now—or Vienna.’
‘I suppose not. I think your mama had the right of it. I need advice. Are you indeed willing to give me your support, Judith?’
‘I think it would be the most delightful thing.’ Judith put down her glass and all but clapped her hands with pleasure. ‘It is just that you must be careful not to offend. You will wish to acquire tickets for Almack’s, I suppose. And the patronesses are so strict, unpleasant even. The slightest whiff of scandal and they could refuse—and that would be fatal for anyone wishing to cut a dash in London.’
‘Oh, there is no problem there.’ Thea wafted away the problem with an elegant sweep of her hand. ‘My mother is thick as thieves with Princess Esterhazy. They have known each other for ever—in diplomatic circles, you understand.’
‘Oh dear. I did not mean to imply …’ Instant colour rose in Judith’s cheeks to clash with her hair.
‘No matter. I know that she is not liked. But she can be very informative when she is not lecturing or finding fault. Perhaps you would be so kind as to drive or ride with me in the Park and point out some of the people I should know. And not know, of course, for I have not the least idea. Unless they are very entertaining. Have you noticed that those who are most scandalous and shunned by polite society are the most pleasurable to know?’
‘I suppose so. I had not thought.’ Judith’s eyes grew round with astonishment.
‘One has only to look at Lord Byron. Most unacceptable, but totally fascinating.’
‘Well—yes. I agree. I suppose … Are you acquainted with my Lord Byron?’
‘I know of him—all the scandals and the notoriety that he enjoys. And read his works of course. I thoroughly enjoyed The Corsair, but I think my mother would not welcome his lordship as a visitor to her withdrawing room. However free thinking she might claim to be, she disapproves of unbridled volatility above all things.’
Judith could think of no reply to this revelation.
‘So will you help, Judith?’ Thea returned to her original plea. ‘I think we should deal well together.’
‘I should be delighted.’ Judith found her voice at last. And felt as if she had just been swept along by a positive whirlwind!
‘On first acquaintance, I think that London could offer me a deal of pleasure.’ Thea took another sip of ratafia with remarkably smooth features and looked hopeful.
‘Oh, yes.’ Judith gave a sigh of satisfaction and silently thanked her mama. Theodora Wooton-Devereux could just be a gift from heaven. But what polite society would make of Miss Wooton-Devereux, Judith could not imagine. It would be just too fascinating to discover. She decided to take the matter in hand immediately.
‘If I might say, Thea—that is a very pretty stole. Quite eye-catching.’
‘Yes. I like it.’ Thea rearranged the folds of the scarf. ‘I bought it in Palmyra. It is considered to be very typical of the delicate work produced in that city.’ She caught a look in Judith’s eye. ‘Is there perhaps a problem with it? You must tell me, for I have not the slightest inclination.’
‘Well—yes, it is certainly very attractive—but perhaps not for morning wear, you understand, as it is rather … decorative! For an afternoon visit it would be unexceptional. Or an evening at home. I hope that you do not mind me mentioning it?’
‘Why, no.’ Thea held up the luxurious fringing for inspection. ‘Really? I would not have known. And I would dislike above all things to be considered lacking in taste. There! I said that we might deal well together, dear Judith.’
‘I do hope so.’ The Countess nodded with satisfaction.
‘Now, enough of me. Tell me about yourself and your family.’ Thea folded her hands in her lap and set herself to be sociable. ‘Is your husband at home?’
‘No, he is not. Simon has gone to Newmarket! I am quite vexed about it.’
‘Ah! I understand that you have a young son.’
‘Oh, yes. Giles. Now he is quite adorable. Come and see.’
Thea sighed a little, but was determined to fulfil her social duties. After all, she owed Judith much for her unaffected welcome of an unknown lady to her home, and suspected that she would owe her more before her sojourn in