“She is prettier than her sister Frances, who married the Earl of Sumner several years ago. “Who do you suppose will be the one to catch her?” asked the second, breaking Imogen from her reverie. If only people could see beyond her face. Imogen did not need her spectacles to know that her sister outshone the rest.īut why could no one concentrate on the sweetness of her spirit? Looks were all well and good, but more importantly, Mariah had an uncommon kindness to her. She held herself with a poise, moved with a lithe grace that was unmatched by any of the other ladies present.
Even with Imogen’s impaired vision, Mariah stood out right away, with her pale, almost white hair piled high on her head and the beacon of her white dress with the faintest hint of pink at the hem and bodice. She scanned the crowd that twirled about on the floor, trying to make out her sister. Was that all that people in this blasted city cared about, whether a woman was beautiful? It was not the first time she had overheard remarks of this nature, and it would certainly not be the last. Irritation reared its head, wiping out Imogen’s initial benign feelings for the women. “If I had a figure like that I’m certain the young bucks would be at my heels as well.” “With those looks, do you blame them?” chimed in the first, her voice dripping boredom. The men are drawn to her like flies to honey,” said the third lady. “She certainly is the best of this year’s batch of hopefuls. The women, having fallen silent for a moment, struck up their conversation again, drawing Imogen’s attention back to them. But she had learned to pick her battles long ago, and this was one she could not hope to win. She would much rather have them perched on her nose. Of course, that was not the most convenient place for them as far as Imogen was concerned. But no, they were safe on her dressing table back at home where her mother decreed they should stay when she forayed into public.
She clenched her gloved hands, helplessness coursing through her. She could see their blurry outlines, but all details were completely lost.
Squinting, she tried to make out their features before giving an irritated huff. She peered around the column she’d been practically propping up the past hour and spied a group of older women conversing on the other side, their jewel-colored turbaned heads bent together.
But at the sound of her sister Mariah’s name, she started. Miss Imogen Duncan just barely heard the words over the din of the orchestra and the hundred or so voices that rose up like the squawking of so many peahens in the glittering ballroom. She is quite the popular young lady this Season.” “My dear, who is that lovely blonde thing being partnered by Mr.
0 kommentar(er)
