A Heart Revealed (10 page)

“Fashion and prospects do not balance out your circumstance,” Lady Marchent said, beginning to sound frustrated with Amber’s stubbornness. But Lady Marchent had not said that a decision had been made, only that it had been discussed. That left hope for Amber to convince her otherwise.

“I feel certain I can secure a marriage even without my hair.”

“Only if you expect to fool a potential husband,” Lady Marchent said, looking at her and raising her eyebrows.

“Not forever,” Amber said. “But I can delay his discovery of the fact until after we are wed. There is no reason to believe this change will be permanent.”

Lady Marchent looked into her teacup while Darra joined the conversation. “You would fool a man into posting the banns despite your condition?”

“Yes,” Amber said without apology, looking at her sister. “I would secure my future any way that I am able, and as the eldest daughter I owe it to my family to make an admirable connection.” She turned to her mother. “You said not long ago that you wanted to see me cared for. Let me continue toward that goal for your sake as well as mine—and Darra’s too.”

“No one will look twice at you,” Darra said. “They will know something is amiss.”

“I was not soliciting an opinion from
you
,” Amber snapped, sending a sharp look at her sister. She looked back to her mother and softened her tone. “My maid has worked with women who needed wigs and hairpieces to remedy thinning hair as they aged. I feel sure she could help me find a solution that will allow me to reenter society without causing embarrassment to anyone. No one need know of my situation, and once I am married, my husband shall adapt. I shall make sure to meet every other expectation he might have of me. I want to make you proud, Mama. I want to remove your worry for my future, and I feel sure this is the best option.” Not long ago she would have demanded her mother allow her to reenter society. Now she was begging.

Lady Marchent held Amber’s eyes for a moment. She took another sip of her tea while Amber sat rigid in her chair.

Amber pleaded in her mind for her mother to see the wisdom of her idea. If she refused, Amber would have no reason to remain in London. The idea of returning to her childhood home without securing a marriage was too overwhelming to be considered. No, there was only one solution—one course of action she could commit herself too. “Please, Mama. Please do not deny me this chance to find a match.” She thought back to the day in her mother’s bedchamber when Lady Marchent had said she was proud of Amber’s shrewdness. Certainly she could see the wisdom of this suggestion as well.

“I shall have to see what your maid can do before I give my consent to this,” her mother said, not relieved of her concern but sounding hopeful at least.

“Mama!” Darra said in shock. Clearly Darra had enjoyed the additional attention she received when Amber was secluded, which only angered Amber all the more.
She
was the Rage of the Season;
she
was the one more admired.

Lady Marchent looked across the table to Darra and Amber was certain she saw regret in
that
expression. “I shall not consent lightly,” she explained. “But we have put a great deal into preparing for the season, and if there is a possibility for Amber to make a connection I cannot deny her that, just as I would not deny you.”

Lady Marchent pushed away from the table and stood, looking down on Amber with a calculating expression. “I shall have to see what your maid can do,” she said again. “When you are ready for me to approve your presentation, I shall decide upon our course of action.” She turned her attention to Darra. “We shall be leaving for church shortly. Do not dawdle over your breakfast.”

Amber watched her mother leave the room. Left alone with Darra, Amber turned to her sister and smiled triumphantly. “I am still the eldest daughter,” she said with confidence. “
And
the Rage of the Season. If I am sent away, you can expect I shall insist you be returned with me.”

For a moment, Darra’s expression was unreadable and then her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “Did you not notice that the only reason Mama agreed to your plan was because marrying you off to some fool would free her of you?” She stood and glared at her older sister as she threw her napkin on the plate. “Because I certainly did.”

Chapter 10

It was five days before Amber had an adequate remedy for her missing hair. Suzanne had searched every wigmaker in London and finally found a quality hairpiece that was near Amber’s true color. It was not exact, which was worrisome, but when compared with the alternative of not appearing in society again, Amber was willing to concede. The idea to sew her own hair into a bonnet was abandoned so as not to have two competing hair colors.

In addition to the wig, Amber fashioned a headpiece—essentially a scarf fastened with beads and flowers—that she hoped would be complementary to the new color even as it drew attention away from it. The wig included curls to frame her face and hide the portion where the edge of the hairpiece met against her skin. The wig ended in a length of ringlets that could be tied to the side so as to hang over her shoulder, as Amber had often worn her own hair. Amber was optimistic and yet anxious about the result as Suzanne helped her dress for an afternoon tea. If her mother did not accept her attempts to appear the part, she would likely not be able to attend the ball tomorrow night.

When she was convinced of her mother’s favor, Amber sent for Lady Marchent and then assumed a pose of confidence when her mother entered the room.

“The color is not exact,” Lady Marchent said immediately.

“I have come up with an explanation for it,” Amber said, eager to share her cleverness and ignoring the increasing itch beneath the wrapping on her head necessary for the wig to be attached. She would withstand any matter of discomfort if it meant she could return to society and secure a match. “I have heard talk of colored rinses meant to enhance one’s hair color. I shall explain that while recovering from my ailment, I was morose about my pale complexion and made the erroneous decision to attempt one of these rinses.” She lifted her eyebrows and chin to emphasize the rest of her story. “It went awry and rather than adding to my countenance it detracted from it. In the process, however, I was reminded again of the ills of vanity. I shall share the experience with abject humility and take it as a chance to laugh at myself, which will then soften people’s impression. I think I can use it to my benefit quite well.”

Lady Marchent did not seem convinced, but Amber remained hopeful as her mother walked around her, taking in Amber’s appearance from every direction. When she faced Amber again, she nodded. “It is my confidence in your ability to manage yourself that earns my agreement rather than the condition of the . . .” She waved her hand toward the wig as though searching for the correct word. “Affectation,” she finally said. “It shall be a small group at the Middleton’s tea this afternoon where we can judge the strength of your story based on the reception it receives.”

“And if it goes well, may I attend the ball at Carlton House tomorrow?” She did not want to appear too eager but being shut up for so long had her trembling with the excitement of returning to society and recapturing her position. “Many of my suitors will be there, Mama. I’m most anxious to return to their favor.”

Lady Marchent nodded but still looked reluctant. “If the tea goes well, I shall consider it.”

“Not consider it,” Amber insisted, a bit restored to her usual strength of character. “You promise I can attend Carlton House if the Middleton tea is a success. I’ll let you approve my presentation as I have today, of course.”

“Very well,” her mother said. She looked over Amber again, and when she met her eye, Amber saw sympathy there. Lady Marchent took one of her hands in both of hers. “I hope I have not given the impression that I have not considered your position within these circumstances. I am not so unfeeling as to realize how difficult this has been for you.”

Amber blinked rapidly, taken off guard by the emotion spurred by her mother’s compassion.

Lady Marchent continued, “My consideration in keeping you out of society was as much for your good as anyone else’s. I should hate for things to not go well and your prospects for another season be diminished if the extent of your circumstance were to be known. The
ton
will not tolerate such imperfection, Amber, and no parent would credit a match of their son to someone with such a blemish. I am uncomfortable to think of this duplicity even as I realize that it is the best option for
my
child.”

Amber lowered her eyes, emotional for a different reason than she was before.
Imperfection. Blemish.
The feel of her mother’s hand on her face as she lifted Amber’s chin left her unsure whether to view her mother as a compatriot in this or someone expecting Amber to fail. “I want the best for all of my children, Amber. Do you believe that?”

“Of course I believe that, Mama,” Amber said, eager to forgive her mother’s neglect if only they could return the level of comfort they had enjoyed before this horrid turn of fate. More than ever she wanted her mother’s good opinion.

Her mother dropped her hand and nodded. “We shall be walking to the Middletons and are to be received at three o’clock. I shall lend you my parasol so you need not trouble yourself with a bonnet that could upset your arrangement upon its removal.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Amber said with a smile. “I will make you proud, I promise.”

“It went so well,” Amber said once they were on the street following the Middleton’s tea, which had gone famously. Amber’s story of the rinse was well received and even sympathetic, making for a most comfortable and companionable afternoon. She now walked side by side with her mother while Darra trailed behind them. Of everyone in attendance, Darra had by far been the least responsive to Amber’s charms.

“It did go very well,” Lady Marchent said with a nod and a relieved smile. “I was quite pleased with your behavior and how the tale regarding the rinse was received. You were very engaging to the other women and handled yourself very well indeed.”

Amber smiled at the compliment and felt the comfortable reassurance that this wig would return her to her place in society. Never mind that her head itched atrociously. “So I may attend the ball at Carlton House tomorrow night, then?”

Lady Marchent hesitated, and Amber felt her grip on her mother’s arm tighten the smallest degree.

“You said that I could, Mama,” Amber reminded her. “You said if the tea went well I could go to Carlton House.”

“It is so soon,” Lady Marchent explained. “Perhaps it would be better to wait for a less formal event to make your reentry.” She glanced over her shoulder at Darra and Amber followed the look.

“Darra does not want me to attend, does she?” Amber said.

“It is not that,” Lady Marchent said. “Only she has enjoyed a different kind of attention since your absence. If she had more time for her to accept that things have changed once again she will be more supportive.”

Amber bit back a sharp retort about her mother considering her feelings as much as Darra’s. “All my suitors will be there,” Amber said instead. “And I am of a mind to make a decision as quickly as possible. It would do no good to refuse such an enviable invitation from the Prince Regent himself and miss an opportunity to secure my prospects.”

Lady Marchent remained thoughtful as they passed a gentleman who nodded and bowed to them. They greeted him and then resumed their conversation. “You haven’t had time to plan your dress,” Lady Marchent said.

“I have the emerald dress I did not wear to the Covington’s. My maid can have everything in readiness.” She tightened the grip on her mother’s arm. “Please, Mama. Let me go. Don’t let Darra’s discomfort in sharing the attention prevent me from making progress toward my own potential.”

Lady Marchent let out a heavy breath. “Let me convince your sister of the wisdom of it,” she said, slowing her step and letting go of Amber’s arm. “Go on ahead. We’ll only be a short distance behind.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Amber said, smiling so as not to show her disappointment in her mother’s reluctance. She leaned in and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before quickening her pace, allowing Lady Marchent to fall even with Darra.

Amber reached the house before her mother and sister, but rather than go directly to her bedchamber, she stepped into the drawing room and closed the door enough to be hidden but still able to overhear the conversation as her mother and sister entered the house. They were only a short distance behind her so she did not have to wait long.

“It is not fair,” Darra whined. “I am always pulled about according to Amber’s will, and I can hardly stand it.”

“I am sorry,” Lady Marchent said sincerely, rippling that pool of jealousy not yet dried up within Amber’s chest. “But she is quite ardent in her desire to make a quick match and to let an opportunity pass for her to pursue such a thing would work against that. Surely you can see the wisdom of this course. It is in your best interest as well as hers.”