Where Dreams Begin(65)

Only to herself would Holly admit that she was surprised by the amount of eager attention her protégées were receiving at the Plymouth ball. She was thrilled by their success, and especially by the fact that they seemed to mix easily with the crowd. It seemed that her social instructions had made them more comfortable in their interactions with the ton, and the ton was appropriately impressed. “That Mr. Bronson,” she overheard one dowager saying to another, “seems to have improved somewhat. He is rising in the world, but I had not thought until tonight that his manners could keep pace with his advancement.”

“Surely you don't mean to say you would consider him for your daughter?” came her companion's astonished reply. “I mean, he is quite common, after all.”

“Indeed, I would,” came the emphatic reply. “He has clearly taken it upon himself to study polite accomplishments, and the results are rather pleasing. And although the man may be a bit common, his fortune is quite uncommon.”

“True, true,” the other dowager agreed distractedly, as they stared at Bronson's distant figure from behind their fans, like soldiers siting a military target.

While Bronson mingled among the crowd, Holly kept company with Elizabeth and Paula. Even before the dancing had begun, Elizabeth had been introduced to at least a dozen young men, all of whom apparently found her sufficiently dazzling to merit their notice. Her dance card, tucked into a paper-thin silver case that tied around her gloved wrist with a pink ribbon, would have been completely filled, except that Holly had cautioned her to reserve a few. “You'll want to rest every now and again,” Holly had murmured into the girl's ear, “and besides, you might encounter a gentleman that you will want to save an extra dance for.”

Elizabeth had nodded obediently, appearing a bit dazed by the scene. Lord and Lady Plymouth's cavernous drawing room accommodated at least three hundred guests, with a good two hundred more milling in the surrounding circuit of rooms and galleries. The home was called Plymouth Court, as it was constructed around a spectacular stone and marble courtyard filled with fruit trees and exotic flowers. It was an old, settled residence, formerly a defensive castle that had progressively been expanded during the last century into a large and luxurious home. In the drawing room, pools of abundant light from the overhead chandeliers and the open fire in the great marble hearth combined to reflect off the apricot-painted walls. The crowd was bathed in a glow that caused a king's ransom worth of jewelry to sparkle madly. Dowagers and nervous young girls sat on giltframed furniture covered with figured silk upholstery, while groups of friends stood together against a backdrop of faded but priceless Flemish tapestries.

Holly's nose tingled pleasantly with the familiar, unique smell of a ball. It was a mixture of scents, predominantly the tang of the waxed and milk-washed dance floor and the perfume of flowers, mixed with traces of cologne, sweat, pomade and lit beeswax candles. During her three years' absence from all social events, she had forgotten this smell, but it brought back a hundred pleasant memories of herself and George.

“It all seems unreal,” Elizabeth whispered, after another gentleman had introduced himself and requested a place on her dance card. “The ball is so beautiful…and everyone is being so nice to me. I can't believe how many destitute young men want to put their hands on a share of Zach's fortune.”

“Do you think that's the reason they all want to dance and flirt with you?” Holly asked with a fond smile. “Because of your brother's money?”

“Of course.”

“Some of the gentlemen that have approached you are hardly destitute,” Holly informed her. “Lord Wolriche, for example, or that nice Mr. Barkham. They both come from families of considerable means.”

“Then why have they asked me to dance?” Elizabeth muttered, clearly perplexed.

“Perhaps because you're pretty and intelligent and spirited,” Holly suggested, and laughed as the girl rolled her eyes in disbelief.

Another man approached, this time someone familiar. It was Holly's cousin, Mr. Jason Somers, the architect that visited Zachary weekly to consult about plans and materials for the planned country estate. During these visits, Elizabeth often attended the meetings to give her unsolicited opinions regarding Somers's work, and he always responded with appropriate sarcasm. Holly had been privately amused by the encounters, suspecting that the pair's bickering concealed an underlying attraction. She wondered if Bronson had arrived at the same conclusion, but she had not yet mentioned the subject to him.

Although Bronson appeared to have respect and appreciation for Somers's architectural talents, he had not yet expressed any opinions on the young man's character. Was Jason Somers the kind of man Bronson would welcome as a brother-in-law? Holly couldn't see why not. Jason was handsome, talented and from a good family. However, he was a professional man and not possessed of a great fortune…yet. It would take time and many sizable commissions before he gained the wealth that a man of his gifts deserved.

Jason greeted Holly, Paula and Elizabeth with a courtly bow, but his gaze lingered on Elizabeth's suddenly flushed face. He was strikingly handsome in his black dress coat, his lanky from elegant in the crisp evening clothes, his chestnut hair gleaming with brown and gold lights beneath the bright chandeliers. Although his alert green eyes gave nothing away, Holly noted the faint tide of color that touched the crests of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he stared at Elizabeth. He was fascinated by the girl, Holly thought, and she glanced at Paula to see if she, too, had noticed. Paula returned the glance with a faint smile.