The identity of the young lady Viscount Nicholas was seen dancing with at Lady Morribel's ball is no other than Miss Helena Beaumont. For those new in town, Miss Helena is the elder sister to Miss Hiliary and has left town five years ago before her debut. Miss Beaumont arrived in town after the death of her father, Lord Beaumont. This Author wonder why.....
This season is definitely up to something fresh as This Author clearly remember that Miss Beaumont (The older one) is someone not to be played with. She is of sharp wit perhaps that is why the Viscount was seen laughing with her.
Which makes This Author wonder whether a love match between Miss Beaumont and our precious Viscount is on the way.....
Lady Ravenscroft's Society Papers, 22 April 1812
"Oh my word," Hiliary Beaumont said to everyone in the room, "she has written about you."
"And what exactly did she say?" Helena asked focusing on the embroidery at hand or rather more focused on not injuring herself in the process.
"She talked about how you made the Viscount laugh," Hilliary responded with a giggle, shaking her legs back and forth. "Which I must say is a rare occurrence."
"The Viscount is a good man" Lady Beaumont input as she glance at her daughter.
"Yes, he is" Hiliary responded.
"What did you think of him?" Her mother asked with a smile on her face.
"I don't know." Helena said refocusing her attention back on the embroidery.
"Surely you can do better than that," her mother said as she take the seat beside her. "You danced with him."
"And the only thing we talked about was my clumsiness when it comes to dance," she said as she looked at her. "Surely, I cannot know a man based off one dance."
"You might" Hiliary commented.
"Which is why Lady Morribel invited us to dinner." Her mother responded.
"Which you should have rejected."
"And come off as rude," she said with a frown. "We talked about this Helena, when a man who is nothing like your father comes by, you will try and give him a chance."
"And how do will you know he is not someone like father." She said.
"Well, for one try talking to the man and get to know him." She said. "He seems like someone genuine."
"And you know that how?"
"From Lady Ravenscroft" she commented and Helena raised her brows.
"She is never wrong about someone" Hiliary said as she eat a couple of biscuits.
"What do you suggest then?" Helena said focusing her attention on her mother.
She loved her mother but would much rather stay a spinster than get married to someone who doesn't understand the concept of Love or worse a man who uses a woman as a punching bag. She had seen it happen to her mother and will surely never allow it to happen to her.
"Get to know the man when we arrive at Lady Morribel's place," she said collecting the embroidery from her. "And perhaps you can make your judgement on who you think he really is when you get to know him more." She said.
"That seem like a bad idea" she said.
"Oh, for the love of everything that you love, Helena the man would surely not bite your head off." Lady Beaumont said in frustration. "He actually laughed while dancing with you which might I add is a rare occurrence."
"What did you say to make him laugh?" Hiliary asked in confusion.
"Admitting that I am a terrible dancer." Helena responded.
"A mistake on my part for allowing your aunt to give you dance lessons" Her mother said with a groan.
"One which I love." Helena commented.
"Do not forget about dinner at Lady Morribel's. Wear your blue or perhaps purple gown." Lady Beaumont recommended.
"I could feign a cold" Helena provided with a smile to which her mother glared at her.
She was going to Lady Morribel's dinner and it was final.
At that vey moment, the subject of discussion at Nicholas study with Benedict who was enjoying a late afternoon drink was on Lady Ravenscroft issue and the event of the previous night.
Nicholas glance through the paperwork in front of him and could only sigh. His thoughts were all over the place.
"She wonder if the two of you would be a love match" Benedict said referring to Lady Ravenscroft before dropping the gossip sheet on his table.
"I wonder as well..."
"How did your conversation with Miss Beaumont go?" He asked grabbing another drink. "You never mentioned what brought about the laughter?"
"She admitted to being a terrible dancer."
Benedict choked on his drink.
Nicholas quickly got up to pat his back.
"She did what?!!!"
"She admitted to being a terrible dancer." Nicholas said again.
"I heard you the first time," he said as he set down his glass of wine. "I just find it hard to believe she will admit that."
"Same here." Nicholas said with a smile as the events of last night came rushing back to him.
"You are smiling," Benedict commented. "That is weird."
"She is different."
"Am I to expect this?." Benedict asked with a brow raised.
"What?".
"A love sick puppy who can't seem to say enough about his lady."
"I just want to get to know her more." Nicholas replied.
Benedict stared at his brother not knowing whether to be happy for him. "Well, it seems Lady Morribel has decided to use you as a source of enjoyment this season which would explain the invitation."
"That woman scares me."
"She scares me as well." Benedict said as he rock his chair on the back in a drunken state. "At least she won't have time for me this season."
"You are lucky."
"Do you think she might be the one?" He asked as he got up and head towards the door.
Nicholas glance at the gossip sheet before looking at his brother. "Maybe....or maybe not?."
"I wish you luck." Benedict said as he take his leave.
Luck...
He is in need of a bit of it.
Lady Morribel home is a large and well known place in all of Mayfair, The estate of Lady Morribel was a marvel of Mayfair, a bastion of green in a city of stone. While other houses squeezed their pleasures into narrow courtyards, hers sprawled behind high brick walls, hidden from the prying eyes of the street but known to every high-ranking member of the ton.
The garden was a symphony of improvement, a hallmark of Regency taste. Winding gravel paths, meticulously raked each dawn, snaked through a wilderness of silver firs and chestnut trees—deliberately planted to shut out the view of the neighboring stables.
In the center, a sunken parterre garden formed a geometric masterpiece of lavender and clipped boxwood hedges. Ornate terracotta urns spilled over with cascading wisteria and pale climbing roses, their scent so heavy it often drifted into the open French windows of the ballroom.
Tucked away in the shaded corners were hidden nooks—private turf seats and iron benches where many a debutante had shared a forbidden whisper or a stolen glance. It was a place of "spectacle and gossip," where the natural beauty was merely a backdrop for the complex social maneuvers of the Season
The dining room was large and well equipped with food to everyone's taste. Nicholas, Benedict alongside Lady Harrington were in attendance along with Lady Beaumont and her daughters--Helena and Hiliary. Lady Morribel was in no doubt in attendance with a big smile on her face.
"Thank you for inviting us to your place, Lady Morribel." Lady Beaumont said as everyone take their seat with Helena beside Nicholas, an arrangement intended by Lady Morribel.
Lady Morribel gave the woman a smile as she grab a plate of food to herself. "The pleasure is all mine, I do hope the food is to everyone taste."
"Indeed it is" Benedict said with a moan as he grab a bite earning a glare from Lady Harrington.
Nicholas leaned toward Helena, his voice a low murmur that barely carried over the rhythmic clink of silverware. "You are awfully quiet this evening, Miss Beaumont. Has the wisteria finally cast a spell of silence upon you, or are you simply plotting the downfall of the next suitor to cross your path in need of a dance?"
Helena didn't miss a beat, tilting her head as she offered a sharp, devious smile. "Neither, My Lord. I find that in a room so crowded with opinions, silence is the only luxury I can truly afford. Besides, one must keep some mystery, least you find me as predictable as the seasonal rains."
Lady Morribel's smile widened, her eyes darting between the two with practiced precision. She set her fork down, the silver ringing softly against the china. "Such spirit! It is exactly why I believe you two shall find much to discuss. Nicholas, dear, I've been meaning to ask a favor. Since the passing of poor Lord Beaumont, the management of their estate has become quite the undertaking for the ladies. Is it not Lady Beaumont?."
Lady Beaumont nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on her daughters. "Indeed. It was my late husband's final wish—a peculiar one, perhaps—that the Beaumont seat be passed to whichever of his daughters first provides a male heir. Until such a time, the legalities are... tangled, to say the least."
"Quite," Lady Morribel interjected, her tone turning briskly encouraging. "Nicholas, as you have such a keen eye for business and law, I thought it only fitting that you assist Helena with her household matters. A young woman in her position requires a steady hand to navigate such complex legacies, don't you agree?"
Nicholas glared at Lady Morribel with Benedict suppressing a chuckle on his own, "Yes, indeed."
"Perfect," Lady Morribel said with a big smile setting down her drink. "Nicholas shall assist Helena starting tomorrow."
"I can assure you Lady Morribel," Helena begin as she stare at the woman horrified. "I can handle it myself."
Lady Morribel simply waved her off. "You have been in the countryside for quite a while, there is no way you will understand matters regarding paperwork. Nicholas is much more experienced in that area." She said to which Benedict snorted.
Nicholas and Helena glared at him.
Lady Harrington, Lady Beaumont, Hiliary and Lady Morribel simply smiled while looking at one another.
Helena was one step away from losing her cool.
She wanted nothing to do with the Viscount despite her mother's plea.....she wanted to be far away from him not working alongside with him.
Nicholas's jaw tightened, the muscle pulsing as he weighed the sheer impossibility of declining a request so publicly and pointedly made by Lady Morribel. To refuse would be to insult the Beaumonts' precarious situation; to accept was to invite a slow, elegant torture.
"It would, of course, be my honor to offer what little expertise I possess to such an... arduous cause," Nicholas said, his voice dropping as he took a look at Helena that was part challenge.
Helena felt the heat rise to her cheeks, a mixture of indignation and the sudden, suffocating realization that her privacy was being invaded. She opened her mouth to protest once more, but Lady Beaumont's hand settled firmly, meaningfully, over hers on the table. The silent command was clear: for the sake of knowing the Viscount more and the inheritance, submit.
"How very kind of you, My Lord," Helena forced out, the words tasting like vinegar. She managed a stiff, paper-thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I shall endeavor not to bore you too deeply with the mundane details of rural estate management. Though, I suspect your steady hand may find our ledgers far more rebellious than a London ballroom."
Benedict and Hiliary chuckled at the exchange.
"I have always found a bit of rebellion makes for a much more interesting pursuit," Nicholas countered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp interest as he raised his glass in a mock toast.
Benedict was on the verge of crying from laughter--Hiliary as well with Lady Harrington glaring at him.
Lady Morribel beamed, obviously entertained—to the sparks flying across the centerpiece. "Then it is settled. Tomorrow morning, Nicholas. Do try to be on time; the Beaumonts have a legacy to secure, and time, as they say, waits for no man—not even a Viscount."