Page 7 of A Match for Princess Pompous
Adelaide had been in her line of work far too long not to immediately piece together the puzzle. Odette had not been alone.
Princess Pompous had a would-be prince.
A great many people wandered in and out, making identifying Odette’s assignation impossible. But Adelaide had not been felled by the impossible yet. She would solve this mystery, and she would enjoy it.
Chapter Three
Odette was not a naturally sour person. A Season of pretending to be so was beginning to take its toll. She disliked that people thought so poorly of her, though she was grateful for her success in convincing them. It was the only chance she and Jack had of a happy outcome. Yet, she was lonely. Being an object of fascinated disapproval was not at all the same as being a friend, a confidante, a companion.
They had debated Jack undertaking the same approach but had, in the end, reached the inarguable conclusion that doing so would not help. The Summerfields knew him too well already, having lived in the neighborhood for a year and having interacted with him at any number of assemblies and dinner parties. The ruse would be seen through easily and readily. It was also entirely possible they wouldn’t care. Such was the balance of things in Society that a gentleman’s disposition played far less of a role in determining the desirability of a match than a lady’s did.
Thus, Odette sat in Mrs. Hewitt’s drawing room the morning after the Farrs’ ball making at-home calls with her mother and Mrs. Northrop, with no one even the least eager to talk with her. Even Mrs. Hewitt, whom she’d known all her life, didn’t pay her much mind beyond the occasional curious glance. Odette had not been out before this Season, so she’d really known her neighbors only through the lens of childhood interactions. They believed so readily that she was the horror she pretended to be. Her own parents believed it. That was rather disheartening.
Still, if it meant living her life with the person she loved most, she could endure it.
“Why, Mrs. Summerfield. Miss Summerfield.” Mrs. Hewitt greeted the newest arrivals.
Odette maintained her impassive air even as pain seized her heart. Miss Summerfield received the warm welcome Odette never had. Even at home when they had crossed paths in the nearby town or after services on Sundays, Mrs. Hewitt had taken only cursory note of Odette, the kind of offhand acknowledgment adults often offered to children.
The enemy and her mother were offered places of honor directly beside their hostess. None of the other guests could possibly misinterpret the preference Mrs. Hewitt felt for these two. Thank the heavens Jack had gone to such lengths to make certain no one in Society who was paying the least attention would think he felt a similar inclination.
Six weeks. We need survive only another six weeks.
To the Summerfield ladies, Mrs. Hewitt said, “You, of course, remember Lady Barrington and Miss Armistead. They live in our neighborhood.”
The wording was not truly dismissive, but something in the way she referenced Odette and her mother and their role among the families in their corner of the kingdom felt the tiniest bit disparaging just the same.
Mother, as always, did not particularly notice. She watched with her usual air of eager hopefulness. Father was in possession of a title, a minor one when compared with the rest of the peerage, but a title just the same. The Hewitts were in possession of great wealth and vast swaths of land. Theirs was also a family of long-standing importance. Mother and Father had always viewed themselves as comparatively inferior; the Hewitts had always agreed.
“Of course we remember.” Mrs. Summerfield faced Mother and offered a polite dip of her head. “A very real pleasure to see you again. I am sorry we did not have the opportunity to speak at the ball last night. Was that not the greatest crush you’ve seen in some time?”
That, of course, set the conversation on the previous night’s gathering. Mother was far more comfortable with this topic than with the unspoken discussion of the neighborhood pecking order. She eagerly joined Mrs. Summerfield and Mrs. Hewitt in their delineation of every detail.
Being aloof and “above her company” was part of Odette’s disguise, so she kept her peace and focused, instead, on returning home, on meeting Jack on her walk back from town and having those precious moments with him. She thought of the joy it would be to spend the autumn and winter finally being herself again and working with Jack to convince his parents of the wisdom of a match between them.
“You danced with Mr. Lexington last night.” Miss Summerfield’s observation was so quiet Odette did not at first hear it. She certainly didn’t immediately realize the words were spoken to her.
“I did,” she said, still a bit shocked that the excruciatingly quiet Miss Summerfield had initiated a conversation. Terrance Lexington was a friend of Jack’s. He was a flirt and a bit ridiculous at times, but he was harmless and entertaining.
“Mr. Lexington stood up with me later in the evening,” Miss Summerfield said. “He makes me nervous.”
Odette’s heart went out to her. “Mr. Lexington is a gentleman through and through. You need not be ill at ease in his company.”
“Oh, I am not nervous on that account. He is simply so witty.” Color touched Miss Summerfield’s cheeks. “I very much fear he finds me unbearably boring.”
Odette shook her head. “He does not seem to me to be someone who requires endless repartee. He appears perfectly content to be the one doing the entertaining.”
Miss Summerfield smiled a little. Her hands, clasped on her lap, untensed a bit. “He is very entertaining.”
“As he well knows,” Odette added drily, but with enough of a smile to take any true criticism from the words.
“Mr. Hewitt stood up with me during the quadrille,” Miss Summerfield said. “I was so very grateful. I am not very confident in the quadrille, but I knew he would not scold me for it.”
“He is all that is good and kind.” Odette felt she could safely acknowledge that much.
Before Miss Summerfield could offer any kind of response, her mother drew her attention, pulling her into the conversation with Mrs. Hewitt, though Miss Summerfield said nothing. Odette let her gaze wander. The guests were all either talking with one another or listening raptly to the conversation being undertaken by their hostess. Mrs. Northrop, however, was watching Odette far too closely for comfort.
Wrapping her facade around her once more, Odette raised an eyebrow. “Is something amiss?”
