The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(37)
The duchess lifted one finely arched brow, and another smile graced her lips. March couldn’t quite identify what the duchess’s expression meant, but it reminded her of a similar one that Maximus would bestow on his lowly humans when he’d finished the last drop of cream in the cup and was quite satisfied with himself.
“I see.” The duchess chuckled. “How wonderful.”
*
A breathtaking display of energy infused the family dining room at Langham Hall. The likes of which March had never seen. Tomorrow night, the Duchess of Langham was hosting a ball to introduce Faith and Julia into London society, and guests from the highest echelons of the ton and government would attend. Of course, the duchess included March’s name on the invitations, but they both knew the ball was the hallmark for her sisters’ introduction to society.
The duke sat at the head of the table and the duchess at the other end. March sat next to her. With a dip of her spoon, March sipped the excellent white veal soup. Flavored with port, the veal stock and cream were the perfect antidote to the cold winter night outdoors. A gloriously handsome footman refilled her wine glass without her requesting it. She’d never seen so many servants, all in perfectly fitted livery. With Pitts supervising the tableau, it seemed every person had their own personal footman attending them.
Light snow, a sign nature wasn’t quite ready to release her hold on winter, blanketed the windows. If they were lucky, the frost would continue tomorrow. Any thaw would make the guests entrance into Langham Hall a muddy mess.
The conversation continued to grow in volume and merriment. The entire Langham family attended tonight. Emma and her husband, Nick, sat to the right of the duke. Claire and her husband, Alex, sat to the duke’s left. Lady Daphne Hallworth, Alex’s sister, sat next to her brother.
March’s siblings sat at the middle of the table. Tonight, Bennett attended and joined the family in celebration since tomorrow promised to be an extraordinary day for the entire family.
“Your Grace,” Bennett announced as he looked at the duchess. “Thank you for instructing Milton to show me how to use the bell pulls in my suites and the nursery.” His eyes widened in amazement. “The footman shared that anything is at my fingertips. It makes the task of acquiring food, particularly sweets, so convenient.”
“You’re welcome, Bennett.” The mirth in the duchess’s voice was unmistakable, but she flawlessly kept a straight face. “Perhaps that will curtail the duke’s habit of escorting you to the kitchen in the middle of the night. It disrupts the entire household.”
“No.” The duke’s growl softened into a rough purr. “Just you, my little spoilsport.” His eyes twinkled as he gazed at the duchess. “In our defense, Ginny, the boy and I have a sweet tooth.”
After the laughter died down, Emma surveyed the table. “Will London be ready for the Lawson family when you take the town by storm?”
Julia gently laid her spoon aside and beamed. “Indeed, Lady Somerton. Your family has made all our dreams come true. I only hope that my sisters and I make you all proud.”
“I hope we all survive the night.” Faith played with her serviette in a poor attempt to hide her nervousness. It was no secret to anyone at the table that March’s sister was terrified at the thought of dancing. She could dance, but feared no one would ask her because of her limp.
Claire reached over and patted Faith’s hand in a show of solidarity. “Just wait, Faith. You’ll be the belle of the ball. No one will be able to resist your beauty, but more importantly, your generous spirit.” She glanced at her husband, and a slight smirk adorned her lips. “If I was allowed, I’d ensure you had a dance partner for every set.”
Her husband scooped up her hand and pressed a kiss. “Don’t push me, Claire. I acquiesced to your demand we attend for an hour. Remember what Dr. Camden said. You have to start getting more rest. Liam is up at all hours of the night.”
“I know,” Claire offered. “Still two hours wouldn’t hurt—”
“I agree with Pembrooke,” Lord Somerton announced. “We won’t stay much longer than an hour ourselves.”
Emma shot a smile at her husband.
“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow evening.” To appease you, I won’t mingle with the guests, and I’ll observe the proceedings from the mezzanine.
With startling turquoise eyes and blond hair, the earl had to be the most handsome man in London. When he favored his pregnant wife with a blinding smile, it took every female’s breath away. With a collective sigh around the table, everyone seemed to acknowledge the love between the couple. The earl and Emma’s friendship had transformed into a love story even the bard from Avon would find inspiring.
March leaned back in her chair to enjoy the moment. Memories from long ago rushed forward. Her parents had shared similar evenings like this with her and her siblings. A contentment that had escaped her for years slowly took command of her mood. She was truly happy the Langham family had welcomed hers with open arms, but tonight was a simple remembrance of all they’d lost, too—the security and love her parents would have showered on their own children.
“Lady Somerton, I too am looking forward to tomorrow night’s ball,” Bennett announced.
Emma laughed, the rich sound brightening the room. “I do hope you’ll save me the first dance, Lord Lawson.”